Other Places, Other Ways

OtherPlaces*

There are times when our lives take on a life of their own and we feel we can barely keep up. We feel rushed, constrained and self-censored all at once.

We program ourselves to say and do only the right thing at the right time and sacrifice spontaneity for strategy and our spirit for persona.

It’s one thing to get caught up in everyday demands but we all need to go back and reclaim what we’ve neglected or left behind along the way. We have to stay connected to our whole selves if we want to have meaningful relationships with others.

One really simple way I do this that always helps is to fill a small shallow bowl with water and place a leaf or some petals on top. Then I take it in both hands and walk slowly.

The idea is not only just not to spill it, but to be aware of the water that’s hidden under the leaf/ petals and to reflect on what experiences during my day I kept to myself.

It’s not easy- it’s a kind of reckoning and reconciliation. More about the “why” than the “what”, but despite that, I keep doing it. Maybe one day I won’t feel the need to. No one will.

Other Places

 I don’t know this garden anymore.

There are wild places here I barely remember.

I used to know them all,

They were parts of me.

No strangeness

No need for caution or restraint.

I didn’t step so slow or leave so fast.

I rested in the truth of all my longings

And lived them.

I need to return to these wild places -

To the near forgotten ways of being

That upset what I think I know about who I am and have to offer

Just because they simply are.

 I need the disorder of contradiction to fill me

Until I understand again

How to let the wild in me just be.

 

Mine?

Mine

Strange thing about dreams and danger- sometimes they’re so close we can’t tell them apart. It’s only when we stand back after we’ve surrendered the dream that we realize how dangerous holding onto it was.

It’s then we come to know how early on we knew it wasn’t ours, but kept bearing the demands it made until its weight made holding it impossible. We just had to put it down, walk away, and admit to ourselves that this particular dream wasn’t ours in the first place.

I used to think doing that was a kind of failure, but it isn’t. It’s a success of spirit rooted in all that’s wise and generous…a turning towards the truth of who we are.

(excerpt: pg. 83 “real”)

 

Letting go of our entanglements

willowmarie:

This is one of my favourite poems by Rilke. I can’t count the number of times I’ve pushed out beyond what I belong to or listened to another woman’s story of having done the same thing. Maybe that’s how we learn what we’re NOT made of, and who we’re really meant to be.

Originally posted on Mindfulbalance :

I came across a baby Jackdaw last evening in the grounds of the monastery at Moone. It was still somewhat unsteady in flight and was taking a rest on the ground, seeming a little bit intimidated by the next step it has to take in life, having to let go and learn to fly.

How surely gravity’s law,
strong as an ocean current,
takes hold of even the strongest thing
and pulls it toward the heart of the world.

Each thing-
each stone, blossom, child -
is held in place.
Only we, in our arrogance,
push out beyond what we belong to
for some empty freedom.

If we surrendered
to earth’s intelligence
we could rise up rooted, like trees.

Instead we entangle ourselves
in knots of our own making
and struggle, lonely and confused.

So, like children, we begin again
to learn from the things,
because they are in God’s…

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