December 17th, 2013

Utah Natural Bridges - a starry night sk


Tears fill my eyes this morning, tears of gratitude.  I have been writing "death poems" each morning, which often are "life poems" and, of course, one might view life and death as the same.

I recommend this practice.  I sit here feeling what it would be if these were my last moments, if this breath were my last.  How precious life becomes.  And what would I want to say with my last breaths?

I suggest writing poems or thoughts in this way as a path to something deep within.   If nothing else, it opens one's eyes to the beauty of this moment, the spaciousness and contraction of each breath.

For me, today's poems begin with: 64 years and 54 days.  I realize now I could figure out the days and minutes, but, for now, I find this precise enough.  Oh, the math on days is not that hard, except there are leap years in there.  Let's say approximately 33,414 days if I did the math right.  I didn't count the gift of the leap year days.

That's a lot of days. Imagine if I counted the minutes.  Have I fully appreciated each one of these days?  I hope so.  It certainly is a great many.  You see why my being is filled with tears, with the moisture of gratitude. Today I am a lake, the sea, mountains, sand.

Can we be there for ourselves?

As most of you know, I am in a Sensory Awareness Leader's group.  We meet by conference call.  We met yesterday.  I have so much I could share, but I am going to try to offer a taste.  One man led from Spain.  Today, he offered a follow-up.  I am going to summarize his words.

He said much of what I said in my speech a month ago about how much we love to give, and how we often struggle to receive. He said we are good "love-givers". The question becomes, "Can we give love to ourselves, offer loving-kindness to ourselves?"

He led us through an experiment with our hands. We allowed the left hand to give contact and presence to the right hand.

Try it.  Sit quietly now.  Allow your left hand to touch your right. Explore.  What is there?  How do your hands give and receive?

Perhaps a moment, or two, or three, to pause before beginning, a pause to ask permission of the receiving hand, a pause to ask permission to explore.

How does each hand meet the other?  Can we be there for ourselves as well as another?  Play with this.  It can be fun.  Trust me.  Trust Rumi!  Peace!  Exploration!  Ease!!

"Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek, and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it."   - Rumi

"Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek, and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it." Rumi