Silence and Speaking Up

Photo credit: Rick Kain

To see the Moon that cannot be seen

Turn your eyes inward

and look at yourself,
in silence.

In this world and the next,
Don’t talk about this and that;

Let him show you everything,

shining as one . . . in silence.

~~ Rumi

In yoga there is inherently an awareness of  a union of opposites; right and left, heaven and earth, in breath and out breath, silence and sound...We practice noticing the dualities or seeming opposites so that eventually we can transcend them. This we practice in different ways, asana, breath work, chanting, etc. With practice we can find a balance that can help us move gracefully even off our mats.

As we are using our voices to speak words that help proclaim that black lives matter, as a white woman (in this incarnation anyway!) I am acutely aware that silence can be dangerous to my black and brown brothers and sisters and my words are needed. However I am also aware that there needs to be deliberate, conscious silence between the words to assure that what I am saying is intentionally kind, and helpful and just. To speak simply for the sake of speaking runs the risk of our intended meaning being lost in translation.

Recently my husband shared a childhood memory of visiting a family in Germany, the experience clearly a formative one for him. The family lived on a dairy farm and, for some reason that my husband could not explain, his military parents who were stationed there dropped him off to spend an entire weekend. He recalled that his hosts, while very hospitable did not speak a word of english. He talked about feeling uncomfortable at first but eventually he relaxed and played games with the children where language was not a barrier. He recalls sleeping in a feather bed with a mattress on top of him instead of a blanket. They ate German food and drank fresh milk from the farm. In the morning when the mom asked my husband how he had slept, in German of course, it took a while to figure out what she had been trying to ask.  Eventually he understood, gave them a thumbs up sign and they all had a good laugh. 

Somehow, despite the language barrier, they showed him a good time and he learned about farm life in a small German town and about hospitality and caring for our fellow humans.

Similarly, several years ago I attended a ten day silent Vipassana meditation course. I signed up in advance and was put on a waiting list as these ten day courses are extremely popular. When I was notified that a spot had opened up during the upcoming month, I quickly rearranged my schedule so that I could attend.

I was a little nervous. Ten days was a lot of time to spend mostly in silent meditation. It actually went pretty well. I produced a podcast about the experience. You can check it out here.

What I want to talk about here though is the revelation I had at the end of the retreat when we were finally able to talk to our fellow participants. Although all of us were women, the group of us, about 20 total, were from all walks of life, different nationalities, socioeconomic groups and age ranges. We slept together in small rooms of three. My twin bed was in the middle of two others. My bunkmates were an Indian woman and another of Chinese descent. We didn’t speak as we made our beds and set out our things in our small quarters. We communicated non-verbally about logistics like storage space and bathroom sharing. It was interesting and challenging at first but as time went on, we got into a comfortable groove.

The language of friendship is not words but meanings.

~~Henry David Thoreau

By the end of the retreat, we had adopted a very sweet, very compatible co-existence. When one of us left the room while the others were sleeping or meditating, we made sure to close the door lightly. We respected each other’s space and privacy when needed. We ate meals together in quiet mindful appreciation of the food and one another’s company. Somehow, without even speaking a word, strangers became friends. 

True friendship comes when the silence between two people is comfortable. 

— David Tyson Gentry

On the morning of the last day when we broke our silence and we were finally officially able to talk with one another, we were excited to share our experience, get to know one another and compare our early impressions to what we were now learning about one another. It was fascinating. I learned that my Indian roommate had two young boys and that she was the last member of her family to attend the Vipassana training. My other roommate had no children and worked as a scientist at a lab not far from my home. Most of us admitted to having certain ideas about the others in the group that changed as we neared the end of the ten days.

What I learned at that silent meditation retreat will stay with me for the rest of my life. Among many things, I learned that I make assumptions about people pretty quickly with little to go on but visual and verbal cues. I learned that although communication is essential to positive social interaction, words can sometimes get in the way. I learned that we can develop quality relationships with others who may seem different, by simply being present with them. I learned that caring for one another and mutual respect go a long way toward creating a peaceful, harmonious environment. No words were necessary for small acts of kindness.

In the absence of words however I was made acutely aware of the power of the word. The words we choose can heal or they can hurt. We must, in these times use our words to speak up against racism. Enough is truly enough. 

Ecclesiastes 3:7

a time to tear, and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak

In the silence between our words, may we choose well. 
May we correct ourselves quickly when we choose poorly.
May our hearts be open to listen, especially when words fail us.
May our words contribute to a better, more loving world.
May these words that I write contribute in some way to the healing
of our black and brown brothers and sisters that they may know peace, serenity, safety, abundance and happiness.
May all beings everywhere be united as one family.

History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people. 
~~Martin Luther King, Jr.

Connie Bowman is an actress, podcast host, yoga teacher, and author of several books, including There's an Elephant in My Bathtub, Super Socks and Back to Happy. Follow her on Instagram @conniebowmanactressauthoryogior visit www.conniebowman.comJoin her for yoga Tuesday evenings here.

How Can We Keep From Singing?

Back when my daughter Meghan was two and first diagnosed with congenital heart disease, our kind pediatrician suggested he introduce our family to another family who had, not one, but two children with a similar prognosis. At the time, I was not ready to look at the truth of what was in front of us. I could barely handle the news of our daughter's diagnosis. How could I possibly hear about another family with what was surely twice the anxiety and grief? It was overwhelming and scary and so, instead of reaching out, I resisted, avoiding what could have been an invaluable relationship. Knowing these other kids might have offered comfort and friendship for my daughter. I might have been inspired by this other family. I might have grown. I never did meet that family but I often think about them, even so many years after Meghan's death. 

I am a different person now. I think I would choose differently, or I hope I would. In this time when we are socially distanced and socially challenged to evolve, I wonder what would happen if we were collectively able to really see the difficult truths that are before us. If so, maybe we would be inspired. Maybe we would grow.

Pandemic and pandemonium are similar words. Ever thought of that? I know. Never really had to before. I'm no expert, but a quick search shows that in there somewhere is the root word "da" which means to divide. 

In these perilous times so many things are rising up to conscious level as we are spending more time on our screens. Just for fun, let's say our screens represent our consciousness, individual and collective. If so, we are seeing some disturbing images coming up to the surface. 

To be healthy and whole, collectively and individually, we must acknowledge the deeper, darker aspects of our nature, and I would even gently, and ever so sweetly suggest that we might invite them in for a nice cup of tea. Anger  and fear are natural human responses to threat. But eventually we need to see the truth if we want to grow as individuals and as a species.

Enough words?

But that shadow has been serving you!
What hurts you, blesses you.
Darkness is your candle.
Your boundaries are your quest.
You must have shadow and light source both.
Listen, and lay your head under the tree of awe.

 ~~Rumi

I would like to propose that as we begin to open up while the virus is still making contact with human bodies that vary in their immune response, personally and collectively we are being pushed to the edge of our comfort zones. This stress is manifesting in ways that are exposing truths, both personally and collectively.

As a culture, we see injustice. As individuals we witness bad behavior.

As a culture we see expressions of anger. As individuals we experience mounting rage.

As a culture we see death. As individuals we know grief.

As a culture we see fear. As individuals we feel profoundly uncertain, anxious and frustrated.

Yesterday, my daughter called me crying, grief-stricken, because she could not imagine her best friend, a lovely black man, living with racism such that we are seeing on our screens.

This morning my son expressed to me his frustration at having to make hard decisions and keep customers and employees safe at his place of business.

My parents are safe in their home, but so very fearful, as they watch large numbers of people dismissing social distancing guidelines. 

I am seeing the collective pain body as reflected on my screen. I am also seeing the individual pain body in my everyday world.

No doubt, you are as well. 

I am white (in this incarnation anyway) and so my journey has been easier than it has for some of my black friends. I need to see that. I need to examine why this is so. I need to face the evil that has been buried for generations. It's time the truth surfaced. Not easy during a pandemic, but why not? Google some black history. I implore you.

It’s hard to witness our lower nature. It’s painful. We can see how powerless we can be when up against it. 

Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my thoughts. See if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.               

 ~~Psalm 139

What have we learned from the brilliant 12 steppers in our midst? We are powerless, mostly, against this lower nature. We must repent and ask forgveness. Also, we need each another. We need a higher power. There are a few more, but this gets us started.

We also need a collective breath, taken by each of us, preferably in unison.

We need collective prayer. 

As a culture, together, we are a force. 

We are strongest together. 

Let’s breathe together. Let’s pray together.

Three deep inhales and complete exhales can go a long way.

What I know from my own personal devastating grief is that praying together and for one another does more good than we can begin to fathom. When we finally are bought to our knees, that’s when transformation and rebirth are right on the horizon. Prayer doesn’t have to be perfect, just honest, real, sincere.

Perhaps something like this…

Loving, infinite presence, we are witnessing so much death, injustice, chaos, and confusion. This has happened before in our history but, for some reason, it feels more difficult than ever. It feels like we are reaching our breaking point. Show us the truth. Allow us to see what is really behind the anger. Show us how to soften towards one another and, more importantly to your will; that which is ultimately in our collective best interest. We are desperate. We are good people trying our best to make our world a place of happiness, goodness, peace, fairness, beauty and love. Help us now. Help each of us now. Help all of us. And help us to notice when you show up in even the smallest of ways. Inspire us to be better, to do better, to love better. Oh, and thank you. Amen.

We don't have to be Carl Jung to see what is happening. Deep down we really do know. 

We know collectively. We know individually. We’re just too stressed and confused to access that awareness.

We need to look honestly and compassionately at what is on our screen. We need to breathe. We need to pray. 

We need to be united.

A Blessing for these Times

As a culture we are wearing masks, as individuals may we gaze deeply into the eyes in front of us in search of the infinite soul residing there. 

As a culture we have seen the earth get cleaner, may we be better stewards of our planet as we move forward.

As a culture, we have found that we can work from home, eliminating the need to spend precious hours commuting, may we be more protective of the time we have.

As a culture we have learned to reach out in creative ways and stay in touch when physical presence is not possible. May we continue to create new ways to connect in love and in the best interest of our grieving global family. 

As culture we are seeing science and technology working to develop solutions. May each of us use our unique gifts to contribute in our own way to the cause of a more equitable, loving and whole humanity. 

As a culture, we have witnessed heroic people in service to others; from healthcare workers to grocery store employees to trash collectors and many others. May we show ample gratitude and continue to express gratitude to one another as this pandemic fades from memory.

We must do better work and not stop until racism is eliminated. That's a non-negotiable.
There is still so much good in our world. Like a blip on a radar screen, Cover-19 will one day be but a distant memory. Racism is a virus that also must be wiped out completely. In the past, great discoveries and human advancements have come out of such challenges. We were made for this, we crazy, imperfect, stubborn, resilient human beings.  

Imagine the whole of humanity on one giant Zoom screen; colorful, different, smiling, concerned, loving faces. There we are, right there united, all on the same screen. Can you see it? Can you hear it?

How can we keep from singing? We cannot. And you can't stop forward momentum...

Love and Peace to you!

Connie Bowman is an actress, podcast host, yoga teacher, and author of several books, including There's an Elephant in My Bathtub, Super Socks and Back to Happy. Follow her on Instagram @conniebowmanactressauthoryogi

or visit www.conniebowman.com
Join her for yoga Tuesday evenings here.

Goldie Hawn and the Three Bears

Once upon a time, during the days of quarantine, there was a yogi named Goldie - Goldie Hawn. For Goldie, quarantine had been not so bad, for she was a yogi. Her practice had made her strong. She knew how to breathe deeply when things got tough and how to stay flexible when life was challenging and seemed to be changing faster than usual.

Like many other Californians, she was also a vegan and an animal rights activist. She was an actress and she and her husband had made quite a nice life for themselves. Then the virus hit. They huddled together in their Hollywood mansion for the first few weeks. One day, after her husband Kurt Russell insisted that she watch The Computer Who Wore Tennis Shoes for the fourth time, Goldie decided it was time to get out of the house and take a walk.

Getting out of her pajamas for the first time in days, she dressed in her favorite Fabletics yoga ensemble, packed her understated faux leather Chanel bag, and headed out the door, blowing a quick kiss to Kurt who was deeply engrossed in the 70’s Disney blockbuster film in which he had the starring role.

She needed a break from Kurt. She needed to breathe some newly fresh Los Angeles air. Since the quarantine, the air had never been cleaner. She just needed to walk. Goldie needed to clear her mind. She also needed her roots done, but that's another story.

Heading east, she lost track of time. Soon she lost track of her location. Checking the GPS app on her iPhone she realized she had crossed the border into Arizona. Feeling good, she reached into her purse for a Kind bar and munched as she walked, thinking about the state of the world and wondering how this would all end. As she passed people wearing their masks she would wave and smile. With her own mask on, she was unrecognizable and she began to be grateful for her anonymity. For the first time in a long while, she felt connected like she was one with the rest of the world.

Before long Goldie realized she was already in Colorado and, while crossing the Rockies, her purse started to get really heavy. She thought she had packed lightly; some energy bars, an eco-friendly refillable water bottle, her phone charger, some essential makeup and hair products, a pair of chopsticks in case she found a decent Thai restaurant for carry out, and a few gummy bears she had bought at a dispensary back home. You can take the girl out of California…

Like Elise in First Wives Club, she discovered she needed to let go of her excess baggage if she were to be able to keep walking.

Like the resourceful soldier Judy in Private Benjamin would have done, she grabbed her cell phone and left her purse with the rest of her belongings on a log by a beautiful mountain lake and kept on moving eastward. Letting go of some things that had been weighing her down was not so hard for a yogi like Goldie. She didn’t even look back. 

She didn't know where she would end up and that had to be okay. 

One foot after the other, Goldie Hawn just kept walking.

After she had crossed into Kansas she was starting to feel like she needed a rest. Looking around she realized she was deep in a forest. Spotting a cabin off in the distance, Goldie headed in that direction. When she got to the door of the house, she knocked. No answer. She peeked in the window and didn’t see anyone. So she tried the front doorknob and it opened! Goldie noticed that the table was set and on it were three steaming bowls of mac and cheese. 

Her mouth started watering. She was famished. It had been way longer than the 90-minute eating intervals she had gotten used to since the quarantine had started. Ugh, I’m a vegan, she thought for a second or two. With a big sigh and a wary glance, she dug into the biggest bowl. It was cheesy, creamy, and delicious but it was too hot! She sampled the medium-sized bowl; much too cold. Then she tried the smallest bowl and it was so, well, so just right, so she scarfed it all down savoring every last bite!

After dinner, she was really, really tired. So she made her way into the living room where she found three comfy-looking chairs sitting in front of a blazing fireplace. She sat in the biggest chair but it was too hard. The middle-sized chair was too soft. But the baby-sized chair was, you know, just right, so she sat on down. Maybe her butt had gotten a little bigger during the quarantine because when she tried to get up out of the chair, she couldn’t. Taking the chair with her, she waddled to the bedroom where she found three beds. She didn’t even bother to try the two larger ones. She hopped right into the baby-sized bed, chair all stuck to her butt and fell fast asleep. 

Deep in her pasta coma, Goldie was snoring loudly when the bears came back from their walk. After seeing the missing mac and cheese, they followed the clues until they found her sleeping soundly, so comfy in baby bear’s bed.

Mama bear hushed the others and shooed them out the bedroom door as she gently pulled the chair from Goldie’s butt and covered her with a soft blanket. Papa bear noticed Goldie’s cell phone was dead so he plugged it into their charger. 

Baby bear lumbered back to the kitchen to find some more mac and cheese. 

Goldie ended up staying with the bear family for the next fourteen days. She apologized for breaking and entering and helping herself to their dinner. 

They had so much fun together. They relaxed, practiced yoga, played lots of board games, and watched old reruns of Laugh-In. Baby bear learned to say “Sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me!”

And after the pandemic was over, they remained great friends, Goldie pledged to work harder to help save their polar bear cousins. And, of course, they all lived happily, healthily ever after.

What do you call a bear with no teeth? A Gummy Bear!

What kind of shoes do bears wear? No shoes silly, they are barefoot!

If you would like to hear the bedtime story and practice yoga: Nightcap Yoga Practice
Here's a Mary Oliver Poem that I read at the end of the practice:

Spring

Somewhere
a black bear
has just risen from sleep
and is staring

down the mountain.
All night
in the brisk and shallow restlessness
of early spring

I think of her,
her four black fists
flicking the gravel,
her tongue

like a red fire
touching the grass,
the cold water.
There is only one question:

how to love this world.
I think of her
rising
like a black and leafy ledge

to sharpen her claws against
the silence
of the trees.
Whatever else

my life is
with its poems
and its music
and its glass cities,

it is also this dazzling darkness
coming
down the mountain,
breathing and tasting;

all day I think of her -—
her white teeth,
her wordlessness,
her perfect love.

From: 

 New and Selected Poems 

Copyright ©: 

 Mary Oliver

Peace and Namaste,

Connie

Connie Bowman is an actress, podcast host, yoga teacher, and author of several books, including There's an Elephant in My Bathtub, Super Socks and Back to Happy. Follow her on Instagram @conniebowmanactressauthoryogi

The Osprey Nest

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me.  In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?”

        
--John 14: 1-2

The old osprey nest I had been watching for the past few weeks on my morning walks with Sophie finally had some activity.

Mama (I am assuming) sat high atop the tallest branch of the craggy, barren tree guarding her home while papa swooped low to fetch pine needles, sticks and leaves, depositing them neatly into the nest with agile back claws.

I was happy to see the new tenants taking residence and making the home their own. It’s good to see some normalcy, signs of life as usual, these days. It's also important to create home that feels sacred, nurtures the soul, and invites you to settle in and get comfy. My husband and I had been nesting ourselves of late, having closed on a new home by the shore in January. Our decorating was coming along nicely when Covid-19 rudely interrupted us all. Our sweet new retirement dream home was where we would now shelter in place.

Walking on our now familiar trail, Sophie stopped just ahead of me to survey the area. She has her favorite spots to crouch and pee, some ways off the trail like a proper lady. I like to pause so as not to rush her and, wanting to give her privacy, I glanced away. In the distance I spotted our osprey friend soaring high overhead, this time with a long ribbon-like something or other trailing behind him like a kite tail fluttering in the breeze. It was a strange sight to see and I watched trying to discern what he had picked up and whether it would be a welcome addition to the nest when offered to his beloved.

He swooped close to the nest and then circled back toward me. Just then he surprised me by dropping his precarious cargo right onto the bush next to me. It landed like perfectly placed garland on a Christmas tree. 

I wondered if mother, still perched regally atop her branch, had vetoed her mate’s decorating suggestion or if he had made this last minute decision of his own accord. Either way, my osprey friend had bestowed upon me a sacred gift and I am not one to be ungrateful. 

I retrieved the rejected material and determined it to be construction debris from a nearby house now under construction (no, it wasn't toilet paper!). I had been open to receive just about anything gifted to me from “on high” these last few weeks, when we have seemed so bereft of good news. I was desperate for a sign of any kind. This would do just fine.

A divine order patterns all of creation,

from the timeless ocean to the fleeting dew.

Keep your attention on wisdom,

and do not allow yourself to be distracted.

Watch the patterns of creation.

This will enliven your soul and bring you grace and tranquility. 

-- Excerpts from Proverbs: The Wisdom of Solomon, Chapter 3, translated by Rabbi Rami Shapiro

My thoughts had been darker these past few days as we head into the possible peak of this devastating virus that is spreading exponentially leaving thousands dead and so many others fearing we are next. But this adorable osprey couple, this sweet once threatened species, reminded me that we are resilient, that seasons change and new life does arrive, despite and even sometimes, because of hardship. They showed me that working together we can rebuild, and that there’s plenty to go around, so why not share. 

They also reminded me to be grateful for my practical, hardworking husband who, much like the osprey dad, has a deeply ingrained, inspiring work ethic. His decorating sense, however; how shall we say this delicately, osprey mama? With all due respect, all decorating decisions should plainly be left up to me.

Walking home with Sophie I stopped by the dumpster and with a deep sigh of gratitude, reluctantly deposited the lovely gift. No sense holding onto things so tightly anymore.  

Peace.

Fenwick Island, DE

4/2/20

Connie Bowman is an actress, yoga teacher, host of the podcast Happy Healthy You! and author of Back to Happy and children's picture books about overcoming fear, kindness and acceptance. For more about her visit www.conniebowman.com.

Enjoy Reclaiming Joy on Insight Timer: Reclaiming Joy

A couple of video updates on our couple:

Osprey Update 5/2/20:

We had 50-60 mph winds in the storm the other night and the Osprey nest blew from the tree. Mother still sits on the branch next to where her eggs had been incubating. Dad is in another tree not far from her. I watched for a while and they both left to circle the area and landed back home.
This prayer showed up today:

Prayer for People Facing Great Uncertainty
Adapted from the New Zealand Prayer Book

God of the present moment, God who in Jesus stills the storm and soothes the frantic heart; bring hope and courage to all who wait or work in uncertainty.
Bring hope that you will make us all able to deal with whatever lies ahead.
Bring us courage to endure what cannot be avoided, for your will is health and wholeness; you are our God,
and we need you
now and always. Amen.

Osprey Update 5/5/20: 

What I think may be the final one but one never knows…

I had been feeling sad over the loss of our osprey couple’s nest in the recent wind storm.

After watching them for a few weeks, they seemed to be a solid couple, determined to make a home in the once abandoned nest high up in the twisted old tree by the bay. I observed with great curiosity as they added debris; plastic and paper, twigs and practically anything they could find to put their stamp on their nest. 

My husband and I did the research. Ospreys, once a threatened species due to pesticides and other man-made threats, were now thriving in the Chesapeake Bay after years of measures taken to eliminate unhealthy practices. Both male and female build the nest together. They take residence and lay their eggs, typically two to three, in the Spring in whatever nest is available. The mother is usually larger than the father, perhaps noticeably when she is carrying her soon- to-be offspring. According to our research, they can lay eggs anytime from mid April to late May.

I assumed they had laid their eggs and were happily awaiting the birth of their babies.

It appears I was wrong!

After their nest blew down I watched for a few days as mom and dad seemed to grieve their great loss atop their barren perch. Once I spotted the male circling the tree with twigs in his back talons looking for a place in the tree to drop his building materials. They seemed to want to rebuild in place, only higher up.

After a few days I noticed that the couple had not been around. This morning on a walk by their still empty tree, the tide receded, I crossed the land where I normally would not be able and headed toward the tree. There on the ground beneath it I found what had once been our sweet couple’s mansion in the sky. I knew it was huge but laying in a shambles on the ground I could see it had been enormous. They had collected a myriad of items from colored strips of paper, a piece of a plastic carton and wrappers of all sorts and likely many pounds of twigs once intricately woven together to form their impressive but tenuous structure.

It took me a while to sift through the remains, but I am happy to report that there were no traces of eggs or feathers or anything that would lead me to believe that her babies had been born and were either abducted or killed in the fall. Such good news!

Our couple has moved on. Yesterday I thought I heard their now familiar cry, but I am not sure. I miss them but I certainly wish them well in their new home and pray their family thrives and their babies grow healthy and strong and eventually fly away to fulfill their own destinies. 

And then our couple can retire by the beach and happily enjoy their golden years in the sunshine. #ospreyupdate

The Real Work 

It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.

~~Wendall Berry

That Still Small Voice

For this week’s yoga classes we are working to remove obstacles to hearing our inner voices more clearly. Our deepest knowing is always for our highest good.  Some people might call that still small inner voice the higher self. Some call it intuition. I call it God. In this video with my dear friend and priest Dina Van Klaveran she says that God is always talking to us. It’s our job to clear away those things that get in the way of hearing that voice. For me, yoga helps. Meditation and contemplation helps. Yoga’s not a problem for me. I teach so I have to practice. And I do love the practice and the way it makes my body feel; flexible, relaxed and free to move about the world. Sitting still and meditating is a whole different thing.

We know the benefits of meditation and quieting the mind. It reduces stress and can be healing on all levels; spiritual, emotional, mental and physical. Blood pressure can lower which affects the health of so many of our organs. Our brain function is enhanced with meditation, helping with addictions, progressive diseases of the brain and body like Parkinsons, Alzheimers and dementia. There is much research to back this up and this video with Dr. Sara Lazar was especially enlightening to me back when I was just learning to be a yoga teacher.

I have become quite proficient at meditation procrastination. It’s a thing. Here are just some of the many distractions I will create to avoid meditating. I will…

cook

eat

drink wine

clean out my closet

talk on the phone

text

watch HGTV

online shop

listen to audiobooks, podcasts

run/walk while I listen to audiobooks, podcasts

think about meditating

ruminate about not meditating

almost everything else

Any of these familiar to you? Can you add to the list? Go for it!

Hearing that still small voice has become even more important for me, especially as I age and feel the need to tune in more deeply to stay present to my body to prevent injury, to know what my body needs for nourishment and, most importantly for me,  to stay connected to the Creator, the source of my spiritual guidance. 

Several years ago I planned to go to New York City to visit my daughter Caroline who had only been there for a couple of weeks to pursue her acting career. Dropping her off in that huge city was difficult for me and her father, as you can imagine. She was young and full of innocence and ambition. I prayed she was listening to that still small voice to keep her safe as she walked the streets off Manhattan, especially at night. 

As I got ready to get in my car to head for the BWI train station, I heard a small voice telling me to go back in the house and grab the flip camera ( I loved my Flip. It was HD 1080P, excellent sound and video, and had a handy USB port for easy transfer to the computer. How I miss my Flip!) on the kitchen counter. It was very specific instruction so I paid attention. I put the camera in my purse and headed out to board the  9 AM train to NYC. Little did I know that later on that day on the corner of 45th and 9th (or 10th) Ave. my daughter would get her first offer to be in a Broadway show. Had I not been paying attention to that still small voice I wouldn’t have had my Flip with me (my phone was a flip phone too at that time. No video on that ancient device!) and I wouldn’t have been able to whip it out and take this precious video which let us share her contagious, very genuine joy with family and friends. I remember someone asking me if she was acting in this video. I had to laugh. It was the realest real deal. It was a moment to savor and, because I listened I was able to capture it on video. I did edit it a bit and add a recording she had previously made of her singing the role she would soon be playing in Wicked on Broadway.

I have had many other experiences like this, but this one stands out for me as particularly special. Sometimes our still small voice doesn’t get our attention and it might start speaking louder until it manifests as a problem. And sometimes, as Oprah used to like to say on her show, it hits you like a brick right upside the head! That’s never fun.

It’s much easier to listen to and respond promptly to the quiet, loving nudge in the direction of our best life.

Mary Oliver says it so well in her famous poem The Journey:

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice--

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do--

determined to save

the only life you could save.

So we practice. I am sorry to say we have to keep up the practice. I wish it were easier. So I am recommitting to my meditation practice, starting this week. If you have a Lenten practice, this might coincide nicely for you. 

Here’s to that still small voice. May we be open to the sweet whisper from the One who loves us so dearly and only wants what’s best for us. May we be still enough, often enough, to discern that voice from the louder, harsher voices that intrude on our peace from a very broken world. And may we all know that peace, the true peace that passes all understanding and pass it around as needed.

Peace and Namaste.