Have you ever had an intense seeking inside of you that you can’t put into words?  A restlessness that makes your mind grasp for answers? Even your body holds anticipation?  Sometimes we know exactly what we are seeking in life . . . a new this or a change in that. However,  I’m talking about a deeper query, one without a clear and focused path.  It feels like more of a wave that you just have to ride.

Last month I found myself "surfing the Mavericks".  It’s been an intense journey of seeking that came unexpectedly and was hard to navigate.  It’s over now.  I am catching my breath and seeing my ride with clarity that wasn’t there for me when just my nose was above the water.

I wonder if you might be riding the same wave.  Are you seeking answers that aren’t ready to take shape?

I asked for help to calm the swell within my mind, body and spirit, calling on my beautiful circle of wisdom.  You know the combination:  doctors, healers, coaches, friends, family, teachers, mentors.  Ultimately the greatest clarity came from the Universe delivering two blessings.

The first blessing came to me while driving to the airport.  I love the belief of animal totems. They bring us messages of what we need and help us connect with our innate beings.   I have always felt a connection to hawks and have many stories of hawks visiting me.  While I was driving, a hawk flew up out of the field carrying a large two-foot snake in its talons. I knew this was a powerful message I needed to receive but I didn’t understand its meaning until I returned from my trip.

I had received an invitation to take the last seat on a plane and fly down to San Diego to hear and meet Ekhart Tolle, Deepak Chopra and Wayne Dyer.  It felt like a high end pilgrimage to hear three modern day Western disciples.  

Ekhart’s words pierced through my seeking, “The need to understand your life is a mental construct. If you are looking for enlightenment like something that will arrive, you will never receive it, because it cannot be grasped. Let go and find a sense of not knowing.  This is your awakening . . .”

I realized my deep seeking has actually been a shedding.  Instead of grasping for something in front of me  I was actually letting go of a part of myself that no longer served a purpose.   And what has emerged is still taking shape. It feels wonderful.

Shedding may feel like a combination of yearning, heaviness, agitation, overwhelm, inspiration, or confusion.  It may be an unexplained push towards change. It may have an undertow of a lack of trust or intuition.  Shedding can penetrate your thoughts, emotions, spirit and physical condition.

Shedding is the work of change. It’s hard work work but holds a different energy. It’s an energy of letting go of a part of yourself versus trying to effort through “self develop”.  If I would have recognized my seeking as shedding from the start,   it would have lightened my journey.

My daughter just came home from school this week with a gift for me she made in ceramics.  “I don’t really like it Mom but you can have it if you want it.”  How did she know?

Are you seeking clarity using your old lens?  Maybe it’s time to shed some of your beliefs or thought patterns.  Maybe it’s time to shed the need for clarity. The skin I shed may not be yours.  The next time you feel uncomfortable in your own skin, try letting it go.

When we feel lack of momentum, it can be unsettling.  It’s easy to start judging ourselves in times of uphill.  But there is also an invitation to understand our need for a constant sense of pushing forward.

Momentum is defined as “The force or speed of movement.”  Our achievement oriented, fast paced society is hooked on it.  Yet we can see that speed of movement doesn’t always bring momentum towards the changes we are seeking individually or collectively.

My family recently went skiing in Tahoe.  My youngest daughter was stretching herself to move past the bunny slope and stay with the group, when we came upon a man made ski jumping course with one launching ramp after another.  She watched her sister and others fly down it.  Determined yet scared, she decided to approach the first ramp.  

Slowly she started down the shoot and up the ramp only to stall out half way up and slide back down to a stop.  She then had to traverse around the jump to the other side and try again.  I watched her try over and over again, never making it, always sliding backwards to a stop. Her combined effort to stay in control and make it over the top brought tears of frustration and anger at the height of the ramp and her own fear that was getting in the way.

I’m a huge fan of baby steps. They are a comfortable and often strategic way to move forward in challenging times. After watching Aria I was reminded that baby steps can’t always get you up and over.  

I also saw that Aria was building momentum, even though to her it felt like dismal failure.   I was taken by her determination, as she approached a ramp for the eighth time.  Her trial and error, mixed with the growing energy of her emotions gave her the momentum to successfully tackle the last ramp with all her might.

Momentum requires letting go and pushing forward all at the same time.  The emotions that we typically feel when we are stuck: frustration, anger, agitation, regret; can be used to fuel momentum if we are aware of their energies and focused on channeling them.  

Staying on life’s bunny slopes might make us feel greater “speed of movement”, but preparing for leaps, including the pauses in between, is a force in itself.  You can fall down and get up over and over again.  You can even slide backwards in life and still be moving forward.  

How can you redefine momentum in your life right now? I'd love to know.

Blessings,
Amy      

ps. Having no photo of my daughter in action, I went to YouTube and found tons of footage of ski jumps gone bad. The one I included above is visceral inspiration for times when baby steps are not an option.

It was my job.  I would drop off our car at the mechanic’s mechanic.  An unspoken place south of the city where mechanics send the cars they can’t fix.  They pay in cash . . . have to speak Spanish . . . and know the job will get done.  

However beforehand, I am embarking on a weekend Enneagram retreat with my sister to gain insights into myself, expand my sense of possibility and grapple with the meaning of existence on this earth.

It really did deliver.  As much as one can shed new light on oneself in two days, I felt enlightened.

An aside, I love these two definitions offered for enlightened, adj.,: 1) Having or showing a rational, modern, and well-informed outlook. 2) Spiritually aware.

My sister, Jill, and I left the retreat feeling rational, modern, well-informed, and spiritually aware. We were now clear that life was full of abundance ready to show us the way if we were open and insightful enough to receive.

But first we had to cross the highway and then the tracks into what felt like a desolate Mexican town.  It was a sketchy alley.  An empty almost haunted dump yard, with music playing from an unknown source.  Mangled, amped-up, neglected cars packed a concrete back lot.  I was supposed to leave my keys.

I left Jill to fend off the heat and the ghosts of drag racing past and began my cautious search. Eventually I uncovered a back office and called out until an old man surfaced.  With my husband on the phone as a translator we started spelling out the arrangement when I heard in the air . . . bells.  They reminded me of the ice cream man you heard growing up or on the beach, except they were coming from, yes, wait, . . . an ice cream man.

Out of nowhere, a leathered, round face appeared, wearing a hat that wasn’t doing its job; pushing a cart and fast approaching me.  I waved him off in disbelief, guarded and anxious to leave.

When I turned around I saw my sister waving frantically.  I watched her dive head first into the ice cream cart.  I couldn’t believe it.  She was actually buying a popsicle!

I slowly came to her side, studying his pocked face in detail behind the mirrored shades. “Do you have coconut?” I asked.

He pulled out strawberry, lime and chocolate.

“Do you have coconut? I repeated.

He pulled out rice pudding, watermelon, and cherry.

“But what about coconut?” I rephrased.

He pulled out cinnamon, pineapple, and mixed berry.

I settled for pineapple.  Jill paid.  We said thank you.  He grinned and started to push his cart along the concrete quiet into the alley.

Jill quickly backed out of our narrow spot as I held the dollar in change.  We knew we wanted him to have it, so we peered down both directions of the back street, but it was empty.

He had disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

Licking our melting wake up calls on a stick we laughed and got chills.  What part of our weekend learnings needed to be driven home?  The learned quick “no thank you” response when life tries to give us unexpected treats?  The frantic waving for life to see us so we can partake in dessert?  The abundant flavors of life that can be passed up in search of the single answer?  

Stay open.  Receive.  Know you are supported.  Try a taste, even when it's not what you ordered. And be generous with your blessings.

It happened.  My 12 year old daughter and I were standing at the bathroom mirror together getting ready for the day and I saw it for the first time.

“Eva, I think you are taller than I am!”  I knew it was coming, but it still took me by surprise.

As well did her response, “Yes Mama.  I’ve known for about a month, but didn’t want to tell you.”

A sweet moment of wrestling with growing up, shifting relationships and vantage points. The momentum of life.

I had to wonder what about me invited this milestone to be tucked away. Maybe my wet eyes every time we watch home videos or my promise to be able to always pick her up.  Surely I have many subtle actions trying to keep her little.  

Then I started thinking about my relationship with myself. I’ve done my own growing this past year and haven’t claimed it.  I’ve said yes, when I naturally would have said no.  I’ve taken some risks. I’ve asked for help.

When we follow the traditional exercise of forward goal setting, we miss an opportunity to look in the mirror and see the growth before our eyes.

I just came back from an amazing weekend with the poet David Whyte.  He so wisely shared, “Solid ground is the meeting between what you think is you and isn’t you . . . A narrow definition of self gives us a narrow place to stand.”  

How can you expand the ground of Self you stand on?  Take a look at how you’ve grown.  Give yourself more than a minute. Maybe light a candle, pull up a calendar to review the months of your journey, and honor your own momentum. What would you like to claim?  Send me an email !  I would love to stand next to you on your solid ground, gaze at your beautiful reflection and smile, “Yes, you ARE taller.”

My daughter just ran for her school’s student council.  It was right on the tails of our country’s election day and she was keenly in tune with the intense emotions that came with winning and losing.

At Jefferson Elementary School, Aria was one of a handful of ten-year-olds who found the courage to try.  They wrote their speeches and practiced during lunch recess for weeks. They put up their handmade posters with their campaign managers.  They spoke in front of the entire school, articulating why they were the best one for the job and promising more ice cream days. 

And then the ballots were cast.  Winning and losing became a real and raw life lesson. 

Watching each child approach the stage was a tender example of the bravery of trying. The importance of stepping up to life’s podium when we have something to share with the world.  The gift we receive ~ regardless of the outcome ~ knowing the strength in ourselves.

I wrote this prayer for my daughter while waiting for the results.  I think I’ll keep it handy.

When We Try

Thank you for guiding me to my most bright and fullest self.

Thank you for sending me the whispers that I am strong enough to try.

Thank you for all that I have learned about myself from trying: 
that I am brave, that I am smart and creative, that I know myself best.

Help others, who want to be brave enough to try, to find this part of themselves too.

Thank you for all the support I felt from others.

Thank you for helping me find the part inside that I can count on
when I feel scared, nervous, shy or disappointed.

Help me to remember that loss and disappointment are a part of life,
and that I don’t need to fear it.  I can walk through it, talk through it,
feel through it, be in it.  

Please continue to guide me towards the ways I can bring my gifts into the world
and to trust myself every step of the way.

Thank you for growing my roots deeper into the earth and my limbs higher towards the sky. 
As I am now a stronger, more beautiful blossoming person from it.

She is 97.  With a beautiful heart, failing legs, and a mind that some would say is failing too.

I see it a little differently.  I see a mind that has loosened its grip in a way we all desire.  Letting go of anxiety, to do lists, the need for comparison, planning for the future, regret.

She’s my grandmother and she has dementia.  It’s a condition caused by the gradual death of brain cells.

The space that has emerged is filled with humor, freedom, candidness, peace, pointed wisdom at times and an innate ability to be in the present.

There is also confusion, the sense of something not being quite right, and a loss of memories.  For those who love her, there's a sadness when they aren't recognized. Yet we always have an intimate visit with my grandmother’s inner soul.

And in her moments of clarity, her most authentic self steps forward loving and appreciating this world.   She now relaxes into daily gratitude. She trusts.  She feels.  She sleeps soundly.  She accepts.

At this point, dementia has removed layers of the mind in my grandmother that bury the soul in all of us.  Layers of thought, personality, memories that become our story, fear of the future.

It’s too early to say it’s a gift, but for sure it’s a lesson in what is pure . . . how beautiful an untethered heart and soul can be.  And, no matter the age, when a soul bares itself, we must hold and love it with the same compassion we hold a child.

Today, maybe we try loosening the grip of our own mind. Let’s relax into the present, allow our emotions to surface freely, let go of self judgement, and rest in a space of trust.

Let my life become ~

The unfolding of me.

A winding path to my inner content.

A daily blessing that I recognize.

An inner wisdom from my own life lessons.

A redefinition of achievement.

A full experience of love.

An unexpected garden of inspiration.

A freedom in knowing myself.

A refined focus on balance.

A constant wave of kindness that carries others.

A contributing part of the greater journey for all.

A beautiful becoming.

Blessings,
Amy

ps. This unexpected vertical garden is on the side of Drew High School in San Francisco.