Some Day, if you are lucky,
you’ll return from a thunderous journey
trailing snake scales, wing fragments
and the musk of Earth and moon.
 
Eyes will examine you for signs
of damage, or change
and you, too, will wonder
if your skin shows traces
 
of fur, or leaves,
if thrushes have built a nest
of your hair, if Andromeda
burns from your eyes.
 
Do not be surprised by prickly questions
from those who barely inhabit
their own fleeting lives, who barely taste
their own possibility, who barely dream.
 
If your hands are empty, treasureless,
if your toes have not grown claws,
if your obedient voice has not
become a wild cry, a howl,
 
you will reassure them. We warned you,
they might declare, there is nothing else,
no point, no meaning, no mystery at all,
just this frantic waiting to die.
 
And yet, they tremble, mute,
afraid you’ve returned without sweet
elixir for unspeakable thirst, without
a fluent dance or holy language
 
to teach them, without a compass
bearing to a forgotten border where
no one crosses without weeping
for the terrible beauty of galaxies
 
and granite and bone. They tremble,
hoping your lips hold a secret,
that the song your body now sings
will redeem them, yet they fear
 
your secret is dangerous, shattering,
and once it flies from your astonished
mouth, they-like you-must disintegrate
before unfolding tremulous wings.
 
— Geneen Marie Haugen, The Return
 
Writer's Prompt: 

• “That song your body now sings,” write about that. What is the song your body now sings?

Active Contemplation:   

• What is your secret? Why do others fear it is dangerous and shattering? What might it shatter?

Contemplative Action:

•  We hold these gifts as seeds till they must take root and then push through the soil of our daily lives and into the light to nourish (and entertain) and inspire others. The action I invite you to take is to share with at least one friend what your secret gift is. Or gifts.  Take them (your friend and secret) out for a walk or meal. Tell your friend what you will bring forth for all of us to see and consume. Tell them of your secret song.  Share your secret song. 
  
  The song of your body can indeed redeem them. Redeem us all. 

There is much to feel anxious about and much to keep us busy–overly busy these days. So many options arise of where to give our attention and energy.  When we lose the ability to pause, hang out in a gap,  or take a conscious breath, we will find ourselves exhausted, discouraged, overwhelmed, or (and) overcommitting .  

A bird can't always be in flight.  Write about that. 

Without such pauses, we cannot listen to ourselves; we will not know how to listen, like the robin, for that sweet nourishment beneath our feet. Even what we most want will elude us because, as research reveals, chronic busyness doesn’t increase our satisfaction but decreases it. 
 
When we pause, we can consider what truly nourishes us and others. 

When we pause, we take a look inside and out—we bring a curious awareness to the moment or the task before us and listen but do nothing. We can choose to pause before we speak, before and during our meals, and while engaged in a creative activity. Rushing oneself or others is an act of aggression. A life without routine pauses is harmful to our well-being. 

In my writing, I take purposeful pauses. I don't go away from the writing to eat something or get distracted in another way. Instead, I stop and pause. Breathe. Be curious about where the writing is taking me and where it might take the reader. 

Natural gaps in our lives provide some pause, like waiting in line, taking a break between tasks, finishing up a meal, or some other activity—those moments when nothing has been planned, randomly occurring times of an opportunity to pause purposefully. 
 
"When was the last time you were bored—truly bored—and didn’t instantly spring to fill your psychic emptiness by checking Facebook or Twitter or Instagram? The last time you stood in line at the store or the boarding gate or the theatre and didn’t reach for your Smartphone seeking deliverance from the dreary prospect of forced idleness?" —Maria Popova, “How We Learn to Be Alone,” brainpickings.org

We may discover discomfort in pauses, often telling us something is wrong. Or the pause may give us space to make a more conscious choice. In my yoga practice, these pauses let me be in the moment of a pose without rushing into the next one. That way, I receive even more benefits. 

Take a pause now.

When I walked down the road
taking only You,
until the noise became less—and the light more
true, then
the river began to flow again
under my skin.  
                                       by Rebecca Cecchini, Her poems can be found throughout my book, THE CLUE of the Red Thread: Discovering Fearlessness and Compassion in Uncertain Times as places to take pause and notice. 

In my book, The Clue of the Red Thread, I offer the practice of Hosting the Edge. This practice is borrowed from David Hawkin's work on healing through awareness and various Buddhist practices of witnessing and mindfulness. Hosting the Edge is being present without adding a storyline so that one can release and heal from painful emotional states. (See the 3-minute practice video below.) 

Exploring the Edge is a practice of active contemplation. We explore these edges as writers and spiritual practitioners to increase our consciousness, insight and creativity. To stay intentional and present at these edges. At yoga class the other day, my teacher invited us to "explore the edge" of staying longer with a particular pose. We tend to be habitual in our poses and stop or give up; we assume our limits are less than they are. Explore the edge to get past the point of giving up. Explore this place of discomfort and transformation. Use your breath and curiosity to explore these edges.
 
This is the discipline of the yogi. 

This practice of exploring the edge has helped me not give up but instead progress through resistance, laziness, or discomfort. Just before giving up or backing off from a commitment I made, I breathe, explore the resistance at this edge, and stay with it. I can say that I have discovered and accomplished more with this attitude. 

We can also explore our edges through our writing after the edginess has past.  Explore those times where you found yourself at these edges of habit or absence, these places of discomfort and potential. Write about a recent edge. What was there for you to discover? What was the discomfort? And the potential?

And, of course, we have these edges in our writing! Can you stay put and keep writing after the enthusiasm has quieted or the original idea has been written? Can you move past having said yes and live the yes? Can you explore this edge of "I feel I’m done, but I'm not done" and discover what else is there to write about? 
 
This is the discipline of the writer. 

Last week the invitation  was to have creative and spiritual practices to return to--how the good life is made of these essentials to return to, no matter how far we may have departed from them (meditation, walking, writing, gardening, gathering together with friends, etc., ). 

But the pandemic really messed with us. Isolation, anxiety, feeling stuck, long Covid, and depression are some of the ways the pandemic still impacts our well-being.  

We are still recalibrating ourselves to a state of integrity and balance.  Integrity meaning wholeness, healing that which is divided within us. And balance means being present for ourselves and our creative life while also tending to others. This means any practices of mindfulness, being present with the moment, is a practice of recalibration. The Pandemic, the very real dangers of losing our democratic republic, and our tendency toward overextending ourselves requires that we find ways to recalibrate. 

Recalibrate body and soul. Recalibrate to who we truly are and what we truly want. Recalibrate to what is meaningful. Recalibrate ourselves to the present moment. Recalibrate ourselves to our core principles of engagement.  

What are your core principles of engagement? (12 Steps. Lojong Principles, Courage & Renewal Touchstones? ) Write about that.  How might you recalibrate with your core principles? Contemplate that. I refer to them as principles of engagment because when they are authentic principles they engage us in an active civil, creative and spiritual life. 

Once we recalibrate (something we do often) we have more energy for our creative pursuits. In fact, we get more energy from this recalibration because we are restoring ourself. Restoration through the pause we take to return to the present moment and then recalibrate to what truly nourishes our soul and community. 

For me, (and I believe for the majority of conscious people), we are in particular need of such recalibration from the pandemic as well as from this chronic state of stress we are collectively experiencing. Part of my recalibration practices include attending yoga class, walking every day, meditation, and recently relaunching my book: The Clue of The Red Thread: Discovering Fearlessness & Compassion in Difficult Times.  Because this was finished and released during the pandemic I did not have the focus or means to truly launch it.  The message of the book is particularly timely now. We need to rediscover our fearlessness and compassion. I feel the energy in my body and soul readjust and maneuver toward this intention of sharing the practices and message within this book.   A book that was written in collaboration with Parker J Palmer. 

​When we recalibrate in one way, everything leans towards this recalibration.  Contemplate how that is true. 

   
We want to explore the Unknown with a map--
We want to know what to expect,
or who we will meet up with.
But how our mistakes will leave a trail
that gives way to something new,
or the greening along the path reminds us of something
we might return to
 
Someday.
 
Maybe there’s a place that asks you to share a poem or song
in order to receive a meal,
or a good story might do;
you start in the middle and go from there. 
Everything else will follow, the same way life
follows light. 
 
As you walk on 
everything comes towards you. 
You must offer up your poem, your song, or your story 
to be known. 
Forget your name.
Some will glance up from their lunch, most won’t.
 
But you repeat your favorite phrase, over and over to the stranger,
like the chickadee or wren at dawn and something beyond your glance 
responds.    
 
–Taken from The Zero Point Agreement: How to Be Who You Already Are, poem titled “Ahead,” by Julie Tallard Johnson 

When we are lost and involved in something that doesn't feed the soul or lift our hearts and minds, we may want to remember what does lift our hearts and minds.  Once we remember what lifts us, we know what to return to.  This returning to is a necessary part of the creative and spiritual life. Like in meditation, when our mind wanders, we gently return to the breath, the present moment. Returning to that which nourishes us and feeds the creative inner flame is an essential part of the truly lived life.  A life that moves forward, paradoxically, by returning to.  This invitation to return to and engage in what brings joy, connection, and purpose will empower joy, connection, and purpose.   What matters is that we give ourselves something to return to--and that we do so when we find ourselves wandering too far beyond the boundaries of our creative and spiritual life.  
  
What is “something you might return to?” Does this bring you back home to yourself and the inner creative fire?   Write about that.


What we engage in is empowered.   Contemplate that. 

I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here,
have my seat,” “Go ahead—you first,” “I like your hat.”
​
From Healing the Divide: Poems of Kindness and Connection (Green Writers Press, 2019). Posted by kind permission of the poet.

Once every couple weeks I go in to pick up a sandwich at my favorite local restaurant, the Sunn Cafe in Mount Horeb, Wisconsin. When I went in this week the woman who brought out my sandwich greeted me with a big smile.

"So good to see you in here again,"  she said. 

That small welcome was the perfect "side" to my sandwich. While getting my haircut at The Salon by Charles, several people popped in to say hello or update him on their lives or announce an upcoming event. The energy inside The Salon, along with a reliably interesting conversation with Charles (the owner), and a great haircut, invites me back again and again. Recently I finally gave the local yoga studio a try.  And have since rearranged my schedule to get to my favorite class. There I am greeted by name and meet up with familiar and new neighbors. 

These brief encounters of recognition and kindness can and will lift up everyone present. They feed the soul of our shared humanity and give us the sense of place and belonging we all deserve (and want).  

Write about some recent encounters that lifted your spirit, or gave you a new perspective. 

Write about a time you were or weren't recognized. 

There are many ways to recognize others without even knowing their names. How is this true for you? 

We find ourselves at a time of great change, upheaval, and potential. 

I have noticed now more than ever that people are experiencing anxiety, despair, fear, anger, grief, and disconnection. We are, to different degrees, living with uncertainty. In such times our hidden fears and anxiety become more pronounced and we often lose what brings meaning and purpose to our lives. We may feel derailed or lack focus. We wonder where can we find connection, peace, and even joy in such times.
 
Did you know that the moon is shrinking? You likely know that the Greenland and Antarctic ice sheets are disappearing. I mention these to you because we are connected to these shifts and changes which contribute to our sense of unease and uncertainty.  Most of us feel anxious; many don't know the plethora of personal and shared causes of these uncomfortable and troubling states. Because we can't change the past or stop some of these changes, we must find a way to be that peace in the world. Be that change. Be able to access our inner resources to face diversity with our gifts rather than our fears. 

That is why I have come together with Acahk Miskinahk Iskwew (Corinna) again to put together a special week that will help you discover what brings you peace and meaning again. A week of aligning your inner and outer worlds. This is a free offering. 

Let’s make 2024 a year of possibilty and connection, together.

In this series of 3 free webinars you will learn:

• How nature can help to heal physical, mental, and emotional adversity and illness
• Simple but powerful practices of calm abiding
• To control your triggers and keep yourself grounded & centered
We will help you to align your inner and outer worlds with wisdom that is grounded in a deep understanding of natural cycles, and years of lived experience about mindfulness practices and awareness.
​
Click here for more information and to register: Find Peace, Wholeness & Unity in a Crazy World

(PS.  In regards to the shrinking moon, estimates suggest that the moon has shrunk by roughly 150 feet in circumference  over the last few hundred million years. )

SAVE THE DATES
Live Call Dates and Topics
​​Feb 19, 7:30 - 8:30 PM (CST) - Introduction and Mindful of Breath Meditation
Feb 20, 7:30 - 8:30 PM (CST) Nature as Healer and Being in Love With the World
Feb 22, 7:30 - 8:30 PM (CST) Going Forth With Calm Abiding

We are all witnesses to the extensive damage of revenge.  I have noticed my leanings toward wanting revenge towards those I felt have done me or others wrong. And wondered, where does this desire for revenge come from? And, is there a way to be free of this desire and reactivity for revenge?  I share considerations to these questions in this video. 

Join The Initiated Writer   

This FREE year-long journey of 52 writer's prompts and spiritual contemplations will take you through a transformational journey of a writer and contemplative. The contemplations will invite personal insight and awakenings, such as, discovering where revenge comes from and how to transform it into something useful. ​

Click Here To Join 

To write a book takes a lot of love toward ourselves and the world. Even though there is a limitless amount of love available, we need to do what it takes to tap into this love and accompanying energy.  That's because with any meaningful project comes resistance. 

Resistance arrives along side something that you want to bring to the light, to life.  This new life, this book or other creative project or action must push itself through the dark soil of doubt and fear. Push itself through the damp aloneness and make the choice to trust that there is light there, if I just keep moving my life forward.

Push through the belief of insignificance. 

Resistance is a Trickster.  She arrives with all her baggage, all her hindrances and patterns. But she is only  present when there is something worthwhile wanting to get to the light. The bigger the resistance, the more tricky she is, and, the more meaningful the action. She's actually the soil for our intentions, dreams and projects.  

Resistance can come to as us as patterns like the one of us getting into other’s business rather than attending to our own life. ("Oh I have to focus on this, instead of my book.")

Resistance can come as fear of success, or failure, or fear of mistakes or that someone won’t like what we write or do. ("I don't think I can actually pull this off. And if I do, who cares about what I have to say?")

Resistance comes in the form of laziness, giving into patterns, over eating or drinking, watching one too many reruns. ("I deserve to just let everything go, life is hard." "I will maybe get to this later.") 

When understood as a friend we discover the Trickster Resistance brings with her the need to get to work. She insists that we bring to the world our gifts. The gifts we inherited at birth. Remember, the greater the gift, the stronger the resistance. And, a warning here. Resistance doesn't just go away.  Ever. She is that soil to push through every time you are about to give up to doubt, or give into patterns. 

Consider your dreams and intentions. Consider what is bothering you now about the conditions of the world. Consider the projects you've started. Consider your inherent gifts.  Notice the flavors of resistance that surround them.  Understand them as the soil of your project and ideas.  Love yourself enough to push through the fear, aloneness, darkness and doubt. 

Now get to work. 

Want some help moving through resistance?  Sign up for my personal MENTORSHIP PROGRAM FOR WRITERS:  HERE.

The journey begins Friday October 6th, 2023.  Find out more or register HERE