"To see those eyes looking back at you,
as eyes should see you at last,
seeing you, as you always wanted to be seen,
seeing you, as you yourself
had always wanted to see the world."
- David Whyte
As I grow wiser and refine my life and work in more alignment with life force, the invitation is to commune with the World in its fullness. The world wants to be seen and witnessed. Following this invitation, I am offering my gift of seeing - whether it is through photography, visual storytelling, hosting Council, envisioning an event or one-on-one Presence Sessions - what is, what could be, what wants to happen.
I am here to live courageously, aroused by the longing of the heart.
What if I can deeply listen to the silence of things,
look in the eye of the yet unseen,
what if I hold the kind of faith sustained by the Source and Great Mystery,
who would I be? what could I create?
So when the enchanting mysteries are not there so visibly, palpably in the streets and neighborhoods I was raised, bereft of any sense of deep time or cosmology, how do I not wander into the mysteries of the world but rather stay put patiently to be revealed some kind of old magic of the place I come from? This is a question I am sitting with now. Here I am, in Iceland, learning about deep ancestry in a small village in Westfjords from a Canadian elder. Last night I was listening to singing of Hindu and Buddhist mantras in a health food store in Reykjavik - I thought to myself surely it doesn't get more absurd than that - and I was contemplating what kind of a crazy world we live in.
When parents, grandparents or other people of older age and higher status are not able to offer the kind of guidance, unconditional space holding and compassion towards the young – and they are not able to because they have not received it themselves for whatever reason – there’s a deeper wounding and depression that descend on the whole community. The traditions and wisdoms, especially the ones that are transmitted orally and in circular, spiral ways of storytelling, rite of passages, rituals, dances, songs, poems do become orphans, like us, when they have no one to pass them on, when they have no place to land…
All stories can and will change. Sometimes it’s good to remember that WE DON'T KNOW.
Ultimately everything is part of the Great Mystery that we breathe in constantly. It is real surrender – even momentarily – to drop all stories, including and especially the stories that make up the core of our identity – and bow to the Great Mystery of not knowing. Sometimes it is necessary to say, “I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore” to clear the debris of everything known and learned.
Sometimes tasting and witnessing my own suffering is overwhelming; the inner demons vehemently avoided in light and inspired moments clamp down on me like nobody's business. But even in that bewildered state of utter confusion and despair, some other aspect of me which manages to escape from fully identifying with the suffering asks quietly: "Who am I? Who am I? Who am I?" This voice is a gentle helping hand directing my attention to what wants to be revealed as whole and sacred beyond the confinements of my ego-driven human drama.
I am suddenly aware
of the field of love,
like the impeccable breath
that animates my being,
perpetual, suffusive, benevolent,
lifting me up and carrying me over
the steep mountains, self-inflicted suffering
and unforeseen heartbreaks.
All the trophies of the past that I bore proudly become a certain kind of weight and limitation that define who I was but not anymore who I am and could be. It’s like flying to the moon and as I get higher I need to drop ‘masses’ that fueled me but now they are empty structures holding me back. The question is ‘what is essential and carries life essence?’.
I don’t want to drag dead bodies around. It helps a tree to prune its old branches to bear new shoots…
one is at where one is. no more, no less in any given moment.
by imposing an expectation of a certain quality or state on another, one only perpetuates the inner-friction further.
what's needed is a moment of witnessing of the other and Self simultaneously. Often the good advise rises from the inner state of friction and intolerance of the witness or from taking things personally.
what if we each could own where we are at and be honest with that, rather than telling each other how to be or what to do.
setting ourselves and each other free by reclaiming our sweet truth.
change happens, change wants to happen and will happen.
and we either allow it, flow with it, support it or resist it, fight it, escape it - making everything so much more difficult for ourselves and each other. the great mystery opens up when one surrenders to this river, and deeply listens and feels into this movement. It wants to take us somewhere, not without a reason, and this place, this destination is only a new version of ourselves in time and space.
In every heart, there is a secret window that opens to the sweet mystery of Life.
Come, beloved, knock on my window so I can swing it wide open to feel your presence.
Your breath so fresh, so reviving, so seducing is your fragrance that all my flowers
want to open and surrender fully. Kiss me on my forehead, let your music fill my body and soul,
so that I know what this life is about, so I remember the ecstasy of being a human.
Come embrace me in your unknown, unpredictable ways,
press your heart hard onto mine, so I know I am alive in your love.
If I love the World, this life, wholeheartedly, fully, boldly,
with unequivocal commitment, with no hesitation, no holding back,
if I remain - unconditionally - in love, awestruck, innocent and faithful,
the Creation surely will find a way to love me back,
and it already does, with fragrant flowers, lush waters,
birdsong and pomegranates, the face and voice of the Beloved,
everyday mysteries and sunrise and coffee,
as much as I receive, as much as I can, as much as I allow,
the Beloved loves me in thousand ways.