Wednesday, February 21, 2018

It's okay to be shaky

It’s okay to be shaky, to not know anymore, and to allow your heart to break. To fall to the ground and bear witness to the reality that life was never going to turn out the way you thought it would. It’s just too wild, too creative, and too devastatingly magic for all that.

Rather than spin from the death as if it were a defeat, with your breath as your guide, travel inside. There are jewels hidden there, filled with meaning, with pure feeling, and with relentless outrageousness of love as it erupts into the world of time and space.

You will never find your life’s purpose by way of a frantic, urgent, exhausting search. Your life’s purpose is to live. Fully. To participate, to take a risk, to slow down and see the signs, to commune with the colors, the songs of the birds, and to listen to the intelligence of the stars.

The forms that love take are by nature arising and dissolving in each moment, for this is the way of form. But love itself is that which never comes and goes. You never know what form love will choose to take in the future, for there is no love in the future. Love is only now. You will never be able to resolve or pin down the movement of love as it is infinitely creative and at all times unfolding into greater wholeness.

If you become too fused with a specific form you believe you need love to take, your heart will inevitably break when love obliterates that form for something new, which it always will. This shattering is the great gift of form. This dissolving and reorganization is a special kind of grace that the mind cannot know. But the heart knows. The body knows.

Before you seek to “heal” your heartbreak via spiritual process, turn to your heart and ask if it truly wishes to be mended. For this breaking is sacred, sent here so that new forms may emerge.

Be grateful for the forms of love while they appear, but allow them their own journey of death and rebirth. Seek refuge not in love’s forms, but in the field of love itself, that which never comes and goes. For this is what you are.

Today may not be the day where answers will come, but to let your heart break open to the vastness of the question.

Sunrise nearby at Brainard Lake, photo by Michael Chilcoat

The next two events are a five-day retreat, The Place the Light Enters, with Jeff Foster, April 4-9 at Sunrise Ranch in Loveland, CO

The Path is Everywhere: A Weekend Intensive, June 15-18 at Sunrise Ranch in Loveland, CO

Monday, February 19, 2018

How well did I love?

It is so easy to take for granted that tomorrow will come, that another opportunity will be given to bear witness to a sunset, take a walk in the forest, listen in awe to the birds, or share a moment of connection with the one in front of us. But another part knows how fragile it truly is here, how tenuous, and the reality that this opening into life will not be here for much longer.

Before we realize it, we can so easily fall into the trance of postponement. The spell of tomorrow looms large in the personal and collective psyche.

At the end of this life – which is sure to come much sooner than we think – it is unlikely we'll be caught up in whether we accomplished all the tasks on our to-do lists, played it safe, healed all the wounds from our past, wrapped up our self-improvement project, or completed some mythical spiritual journey.

Inside these hearts there may be only one burning question: how well did I love?

There are soul-pieces and lost parts orbiting in and around us, the ghosts of our unlived lives; those aspects of ourselves that have not been allowed safe passage. To attend to that which remains unlived – to listen to its poetry and provide sanctuary for its emergence – is a radical act of compassion.

One day we will no longer be able to look at, touch, or share a simple moment with those we love. When we turn to them, they will be gone. One moment will be our last to encounter the immensity of one more breath, experience awe at a color or a fragrance or the blooming of a violet, or to enter into union with the vastness of the sea.

It will be our last chance to see a universe in a drop of rain, to have a moment of communion with a friend, or to weep as the light yields to the night sky.

One last moment to have a thought, feel an emotion, fall in love, or listen to a piece of music. To know heartbreak, joy, sorrow, and peace – to behold the outrageous mystery of what it truly means to be a sensitive, alive, connected human being.

What if today is that last day? Or tomorrow? Or later this week?

Knowing that death will come, how will we respond to the sacred and brief appearance of life?

Perhaps our “life's purpose” has nothing to do with what job we will find, what new thing we will manifest or attract for ourselves, or what mythical awakening journey we will complete. Perhaps the purpose of our life is to fully live, finally, to touch each here and now moment with our presence and with the gift of our one, wild heart.

And to do whatever we can to help others, to hold them when they are hurting, to listen carefully to their stories and the ways they are attempting to make sense of a world that has gone a bit mad. To speak kind words and not forget the erupting miracle of the other as it appears in front of us. Perhaps this is the most radical gift that we can all give.

The next two events are a five-day retreat, The Place the Light Enters, with Jeff Foster, April 4-9 at Sunrise Ranch in Loveland, CO

The Path is Everywhere: A Weekend Intensive, June 15-18 at Sunrise Ranch in Loveland, CO

Saturday, February 17, 2018

No greater temple

At times we are asked to enter into the dusty regions of the psyche, where the ground underneath us is taken away. What was once so clear has lost its meaning. Even our deepest realizations have fallen out of reach. We are worn down by the path and left raw and in a state of primordial exhaustion.

We have entered into a liminal place where it is a bit chaotic. The emotions are alive, at times disturbing, and unresolvable. It is a realm of contradictory thoughts and feelings, the abode of Hermes, initiations, transitions, and thresholds. It is uncertain here but also filled with creativity and intelligence.

There are seeds here, emerging out of the stars and into our hearts, calling us into a future that has not yet arrived. As responses to our longing, they are seeds of new vision, but require tending to the darkness in order to find the right soil from which to grow.

The invitation arises from love, but it is not a love that is peaceful and sweet. It is one that is wrathful and fierce, and full-spectrum in its glory: Place your heart on the altar in front of you and enter into communion.

The not-knowing. This broken heart. This ripening body. There is no greater temple.

“Collecting Light” – photo by Guillaume Roche

The next two events are a five-day retreat, The Place the Light Enters, with Jeff Foster, April 4-9 at Sunrise Ranch in Loveland, CO

The Path is Everywhere: A Weekend Intensive, June 15-18 at Sunrise Ranch in Loveland, CO