Universe dancing

Sept 5(2)

Waves and rocks dancing

Almost every day I cock my head and listen.  Does the Universe want to say anything through Kathy in the blogging world?  Does it have anything to say?

It’s odd when one begins operating through a sense of listening to Universal direction, rather than relying on thoughts and desires to compass one in the next unfolding moment. It’s a different orientation, a different motivation.

You never know what’s going to happen next.

Sometimes you find yourself habitually listening to commanding thoughts again, but it seems to actually hurt.  So you stop in this fresh new moment and simply notice.  Ah ha, THIS is what I am.

I can remember getting annoyed with friends who behaved in ways that irritated me.  There was a definite belief that there was a separate “me” and separate “other”.  That the person was separately independently making decisions that seemed wrong or unjust.  Now it often usually appears as a dance with no unique separate self at the helm deciding definitely to do this next.  Instead it’s a seamless interconnected Universe simply dancing.

Shimmer, shimmer, wave, rock.

You never know what’s going to happen next, and that seems to transition from fear to fullness as the ego relaxes its fierce grip.  What relief!  We don’t have to know.  And so we listen for the symphony’s next movement…and the dance continues…

 

Listening for what feels right

These days I listen.  A lot.  It’s as if an ear often cocks towards paying attention.  Listening what feels right inside and outside.  It’s as if an inner GPS directs the next movement.  Does Life want to turn to the left or right?  The ear listens for direction, the heart determines what feels right, the body waits.

Sometimes the mind shanghaies the ship and insists upon its own way.  It demands its ransom, a half chocolate bar, a glass of wine, way too many hours absorbed in a miniseries.  Nothing wrong with any of those activities.  But when the inner compass refuses to resonate–it hurts.  It hurts not to follow where Life wants to lead next.  It hurts to flow upriver when the water rushes toward the sea. This body contracts in the struggle.  Not fun to follow the mind anymore.  (If it ever was.)

Such peace exists in this active listening.  Where next?  How now Brown Cow?  One literally suspends knowing.  Thoughts may arise insisting they know the next direction, but do they really?  Sometimes I sit for an hour in this not-knowing, waiting, listening to bird song.  Then the body rises and drives to work, washes windows, hikes down the road, sells a goose on eBay.  Things happen on their own time.  Why does the mind assume it needs to control and fuss and plan so much?  Not that there’s anything wrong with planning.  It’s just that there’s another knowing which operates so much more efficiently when the mind quiets.  I’m still amazed at this.

For many years I remember always wanting to live “from God’s will”.  From the Great Spirit’s direction.  It always seemed impossible.  The greatest desire to do this existed, but when an emotional contraction arose–forget it.  I would follow the inner rebel where it wanted, forget God’s will.

It’s possible for awareness to travel into our emotional and body and mental contractions, to illuminate the tightness coiled there.  So much of this spiritual journey–the real meat of it–has been the movement into craving, contractions, insistence within the psyche.  Into what distracts from the present moment, what sends one into identification with thoughts and feelings, rather than the ever-flowing Now.

I recall how very hard it seemed to dive into a contraction, a raw fear.  How it took all the courage I could muster to meet the energy of myself without fleeing into distraction.  How challenging it still feels at time.  How easy the path of compulsion looks–oh, c’mon honey, let’s just check email now, nothing wrong with that.  No, nothing wrong with checking email unless it’s covering up an unconscious fear of emptiness, loneliness, name your greatest unspoken fear.  We can spend a lifetime running wildly, escaping from the Nazi fears which murder the psyche by closing it down, snuffing out the beauty and pain.

So again today I listen.  Does Life wish to turn left or right?  Will it sit for another fifteen minutes, or write a blog?  Will the feet walk to the mailbox?

Once a friend said she would crawl on her knees to brush her teeth if her inner knowing insisted.

I’m beginning to understand the freedom in this level of acquiescence to the Universe.

Learning to love the lost children

Empty chairs

Empty chairs

So many parts of ourselves exist!

The controlling part, the angry part, the loving part, the spiritual part, the part that loves munching popcorn, the part that wants to recycle and save the planet, the part that feels inferior, the part that thinks someone else has it “all together”, the part that makes snap judgments against you, you, you.

We’re composed of parts, aren’t we?  Those parts all join together into a conglomerate we sometimes call a “personality”.

We’ve squelched some of those parts, sent them underground, perhaps because their effect proved too painful.  We banished them to underground caves in the psyche where they languish and hopefully die.

Yet they don’t, oh they don’t.

Those lost children of ourselves–the ones filled with anger and hate and despair and vulnerability–shoot arrows into our everyday living.  They quiver forth, ruining the best laid plans.  They detest the “parent” who refused to love them, who locked them in the basement and threw away the key.

Thank goodness they refused their death sentence.  Thank goodness they wreak havoc in our lives.  Thank goodness they did not heed the controller in the mind who insisted life be this way, the perfect way.

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