Open Moments

To write for the ground or to write more openly, in the mystical air? I’m not so worried anymore. I have my plan—my loose-knit plan, knit along the tapestry, one hand mine, the other hand a million others—to wait for one particular job. Why are we waiting? I guess it’s the unraveling of time right now to see what happens when there are no work responsibilities.

I listen and I hear, but inside, we each have our own inner pool of feeling that deepens the experience of life and reveals to us from the most personal place where all our energy can be gathered back and restored. What is the learning here? Why is the universe granting me this time to slow down? In a way, the universe didn’t grant me anything—rather, I opened up to the opportunity to feel my feelings more fully. Even more fearlessly than usual. Beneath the play of open water—the tides of movement and music that I’m so a part of and used to—there is more to be felt here. Creative souls, creative beings, we can’t help but be big and inspired—big in the way we live our lives and express our spirit fully—but in the stillness and silence, I am called to learn more. It’s in the quiet, the humble, the soft moments where I feel something deeper. A nucleus pull—a gravitational centering that draws me to discover more of myself here. It is from this place that I practice a different way of life, where moment-to-moment I don’t try to change that nucleus feeling, but rather I open up to it and swim in the home-pool of my own waters.

What if I feel things I don’t necessarily want to feel here? Like sadness or doubt or missing or something? It’s all okay. In the inner home existential realm, it’s obvious it’s going to be a long and beautiful journey. I haven’t seen it all, but I have seen a lot at this point—both from my own perspective and from the lives and viewpoints of others. I keep Pat Neer’s pink and purple heart-stitched shawl because of this, and I organize my new, free-of-old-memories pillows quite purposefully around so as to pull in the sky blue from the tapestry on the far wall while holding center the things that matter most to me.

Feelings so deep inside, we wonder how much is actually ours. I live life differently as I recenter again—and again and again—in the pool of inner wisdom where my path renews continuously as something more personal. The weight of the world will always be somewhat on my shoulders—that is something I chose in a way and certainly a weight I prove capable of bearing—but nucleus pool, nucleus pool, pulled from a small inner space, both younger and older, I look around and realize I have, in the moment, nothing to fear. Nothing to fight, nothing to hate nor resist. My purest sense of freedom is a moonflower, bloomed in the night, felt forever within.

What does THAT mean? Are you stuck in Rhode Island or Idaho or something? No. Nope. I’m here. So very much here, feeling my freedom too wherever I go. Looking up, beneath the height of a long-neck dinosaur, my beliefs are older than anything human. I take it all home with me—everything that made me sky and water, bigger than who I am. I guess that’s why when Adrienne Elise speaks about letting Isis’s wings hold me during this time, I feel the love resonating there. This is a magical time. My inner nucleus pool is both quite mundane and colorfully sparkling. It doesn’t have to be one or the other. The joy I’m discovering is in the moment to moment, open time opportunities. I can swim freely in play, write if I want, let silence inspire, read, go for a walk with Scrat 🐈‍⬛, meditate, or lay down and enjoy the way my cat’s fur sparkles iridescent in the sunlight. I can dance, relearn songs on the guitar, old and new, sing well or sing how I’m feeling. I can listen to the wings of a passing bird outside. I can water my plants and feel joy as I count the empty pots, ready to flourish my back deck for summer again. I can do nothing—absolutely nothing and see whatever it is that calls for my attention here. I can be home, and when the urge to venture off and be a part of that heavenly flowing current emerges again, I can choose to feel instead to the nucleus waters and let my healing journey collect more fully here at this point, heaven and all its feelings. Could that gravitational pull, deep within the rib cage, each day to be home be a pointer to Heaven’s flood gates too?