Letting Go: A Few Journal Entries Dancing Around the Idea

Monday:  Yesterday began as a lovely, deep, rich experience of life. But then I slowly corroded into a silly, petty “small ‘s’” self…I began to worry about losing what I have in this life or not getting what I want. I was clinging. Then I remembered that I know how to understand - and then to shed - the baggage I carry, and so I began to strew these things like garbage – littering the path behind me. Little by little. My bags are getting lighter as I move one day to the next. But sometimes it takes all day to offload one small bit.

Tuesday:  I am interested…in bringing my gifts and the beauty of this one small frail life into harmony with nature, offering myself fully to the world. I am living in these questions today:  How can I live my life in Beauty each day? What are some ways in which I can open my heart rather than clenching (in fear, anger, dismay, self-deprecation, judgment)? (The idea of living in the questions requires that we craft for ourselves uniquely applicable questions, open-ended questions, inclusive of the others in our lives...) In this moment, what is being called forth out of me, and how can I find the courage and strength to offer it to the world? How can I consciously and deliberately walk away from us/them polarities, even as I hold my rigid values about how the world could be more compassionate?...I thrive when I show up fully – being whole myself and offering that wholeness to others, to my work, to this sumptuous land on which we walk. I imagine now I am a tree and my feet have grown roots that branch off, begin to burrow deep into the soil, even to the fiery molten core of this earth, source of volcanoes, and my hands reach up – fingers outstretched and my arms embracing the air, caressing Beauty and Pain, this Life. I stand firm on the ground, body as solid as the thick bark of the Douglas firs and I am intertwined with all that is…feeling from and offering to the soil. 

Wednesday:  Letting go is an easy step into peace, calm. It causes my hands-in-fists to uncurl, the clench to unwind fiber by muscle-y fiber. Letting go requires that I trust in Goodness, something bigger than, and yet residing within, me. A spark turns to flame. To release my worries and fears also releases me from the bondage of not-now. Because I know that my freedom, ours, is in staying whole, intact, rooted in this instant. When the sun shines this morning on the new yellow leaves of the willow; or I bury my face in the musky, warm belly of my dog before getting out of bed to start my day; or I hear the cacophonous-almost-overpowering frog songs in the crescent-moon night…I am caught in the moment, held engrossed caressed, and the brilliance of these sparkling gems causes my eyes to water. I am one with this earth…so I know I’ll continue to unfold into whatever it is that is meant for me.

Thursday:  I did not intend yesterday to imply that the act of letting go is easy. It is what follows letting go that is easy: I am released back into the larger world of Spirit when I let go. And what is “letting go” for me? It is recognizing that my thoughts are not reality, or problems to be solved. It is re-membering my faith, my trust that my life is opening, blossoming with purpose. It is the actual placement of words on a scrap of paper, if necessary, and shoving it into the narrow neck of a corked bottle, my “spirit jar;” the act reminds me that I’ve dropped my concern into the well of Well-Being and I can be free of it, no longer able to “take charge” of it since the tiny folded intention is – literally – on the bottom of a glass container. It is releasing to All that knows me, and recognizing and acknowledging that my ideas, strengths, worries are all part of – not equal to, separate from, or (especially) greater than – the Unseen, quietly persistent Presence that guides all beings. 

 * * *

To let go I must re-member what I have come to understand, get grounded again on this earth, allow myself to be captivated by the beauty of the moment, and make any tangible symbolic gestures that remind me I can move with ease into what is. 

All blog photographs taken by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted.

Spring is Blooming, Within and Without

It has been striking these past few weeks:  the way in which my inner landscape and the one outside are unfolding in like manner. Blooming; bursting forth in song; opening and unfurling and stretching in the glorious light of brand new springtime; flaunting with shamelessness the beauty within; shining forth; living out of that deepest place of compassion; finding rest in the possibilities of promise and hope…The unseen key that unlocks the mystery within has touched every tree and plant bud, and my own tender heart.

Driving home yesterday – smack in the center of a most glorious Pacific Northwest early spring day replete with sunshine, crisp air, sakura (cherry) blossoms in delicate pinks and whites, and that unbelievable color of supple spring green dotting the early leafing trees everywhere along the road – I was daydreaming. (This is not a practice I recommend while driving.) But instantly I was brought back to the present moment, my nose filling with a scent pungent, sweet, and earthy (what is the word for the smell of ripe, moist soil?). The natural perfume permeated my being with intense and immediate pleasure. An abiding sense of well-being arose and gave birth to my experience of that moment.

I could not figure out the other day (a mental activity applied to an emotional quality of living – not so useful, actually) whether or not it was the natural world’s springtime season activating my own inner buds to peel themselves back revealing the blessed and brilliant beauty of a flower within that I had not even known existed. (I had not remembered the planting of those seeds in my being; nor had I felt the growing bud, from which I now begin to bloom.) Nor could I discern whether it was the inner blossoms reminding me to look outward to the daffodils in the yard. I decided that instead of figuring out, or answering, I would rather live into the questions. I certainly know that Nature mirrors my own internal life; this week I am really feeling it. And it is the raw, unfettered expression of this truth that calls to and compels me.

I have been given gifts unimaginable this week, all in the fertile soil of showing up with full presence to whatever and whomever is before me:

*Living into the experience of the extreme frailty of a dear family member caused the non-judgmental seed of honest compassion to crack open its husk and expose a tender green shoot. This was poignant and powerful, and I cried. But I was not afraid to show up to the moment of truth and I easily shed the old, useless, frayed garments of expectations, frustration, blame and self-pity that I had long worn as protection. My heart realized that I could live unthreatened in the naked truth and that compassion would be the savior.

*A few days ago I was temporarily stricken with some old behaviors that used to serve, perhaps, long ago. But they are not companions I want to keep near me now; the container of my experience is filled these days with a gentleness and rawness of spirit that is genuine and secure enough to exist without armor. But I do have my moments of return to those ways, a momentary reversion to that impulse for protection (even in the face of safety)…And what I saw the other day was a woman who forgot gratitude and appreciation in the sight of fear. I hurt somebody because I operated out of that old, shadowy, dank, scared place within rather than remembering that I have learned how to lead with trust and grace:  the place of Light within. Because hurting others is not at all how I want to walk in this world, I am practicing with new fervor a first-response to others’ gracious offerings - that of sincere gratitude.

*There is also an incredible balance out of which I have found my inner life thriving this week. I am reminded that March marks month number seven of my twelve-month incorporation (embodiment) of that which I claimed on my last vision fast: to thrive in my work, my relationships, and in the fullness of my life. I see this manifesting in kaleidoscopic ways today, this week, this month:  rather than going to the extremes of emotion, or clinging fiercely to self-constructed notions based on fallible judgment, I am able to more gently hold my life and those around me with fullness, wholeness and joy.

Spring is here! Nature is reflecting back to each of us who we truly are. May what is ripe and ready within you bloom in full grace and with great beauty!

All blog photographs taken by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted.

Just Shells: I Want the Nonfiction Life

From my journal on Monday, 12^th March:
I keep having challenging thoughts about my future, my recent past, and my current work/projects and deadlines. Then I remember, Oh yeah…they’re just thoughts. When I remember that a thought is not actual reality – maybe a pointer, even a damn good indicator, but not actually real - then the thought suddenly turns hollow; this has just started happening in the past few days. There is this hollowness, like an empty shell. A carapace. A shadow. An apparition. Sometimes they are layered thoughts; I have made up some idea and then I think about it as if it has been manifest in the world. So there is also a kind of peeling back of layers in looking at my thoughts. I remember that meditation is a good tool for calming the mind. And as I begin to meditate, watching the thoughts, they take on that insubstantial emptiness: shells. (Bullet shells? Peanut shells? Worm casings?) So I am giving myself over again to the practice of seeing thoughts as not-actual.

From my journal on Thursday, 15^th March:

I’ve been thinking about thoughts (haha). “Thoughts as shells” continues to be a useful and comforting image with regard to made-up fears and exaggerated ideas about situations. I am so drawn to philosophy and theory; yet I also understand that while they might have a good and useful application in life, they are merely viewpoints or lenses through which to see something. But still, I cling to and make much of them. I want to re-member those other parts of me, all four acting in concert: body, psyche, mind and spirit. For me it is about balance…keeping all four alive, active, intact (not valuing thoughts, for example, over inspiration, but holding both equally). 

From my journal on Friday, 16^th March:

Yet I look outside and see the incredible beauty of the light on the trees and how the sky is nearly lavender – a periwinkle blue of an unbelievable intensity with the rich dark green of blowing Doug fir boughs, cones hanging thick on their high branches; and the catkins on the alders, hanging in dark red-orange worms from the twigs. And as soon as I write it down, the moment is gone. Nature is this blessing that unfolds itself over and over, in seasons, repetitions of cycles, in beauty and death and rebirth. As the bushes burst out in leaf buds, bright yellow greens (the tall trees a bit more patient in their unfurling), I am reminded that the fearful insubstantial thoughts that I allow to bloom into stories that my brain has woven into far-fetched fiction tales is not the life I want. I desire, instead, to let them come, the armies of thoughts, and to watch them pass by, not giving them the attention they seem to feed upon, craving to take me over, into their clutches. All I can do is remember, over and over and over, how precious this one little life is and that if my thoughts spin out too much – too often or too deeply – then I will miss the riches, the truly extraordinary nonfiction world around me. 

All blog photographs taken by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted.

A Practice of Inspired Action (or, I’m Not in Charge of the Outcome, Part I)

I am not in charge. Of IRS regulations. Of brutality, one human against another. Of how a friend reacts to what I say. Of where the junco nests this year. Of somebody who refuses the help which will keep her safe. Of the tense movie that taunts me to stay but offers no resolution to the drama. Of war, environmental degradation, over-consumption, waste, the political system, grave economic disparity, corporate control, a one-size-fits-all public school education, or the ladies at the bank who eye me warily when I politely decline their offer of yet one more credit card “with all the benefits.”  

Nope. I am not in charge of the outcome.

I had a few days this week in which my wheels spun out of control. The trite stuff of daily life mounted up into a rotting, stinky pile that resembled the larger, systemic issues over which I feel little sense of agency. This is what happens when I feel how outside of the mainstream American life I really do live. This is what occurs when I feel the world’s pain transformed into my own, the place where anima mundi converges with my small conception of self as separate.

Sometimes I forget (my interconnected soul) and, instead, think that I can - alone - do The Big Thing that will change all the pain, injustices, contradictions of Life into a smooth-running world of harmony, compassion and peace.

No. Certainly not one act. Not alone. (I think that's called arrogance.)

All I can strive toward is a daily practice of action, of doing “my part.” And I must do my part. It is the only thing I can do, and it is the best thing I can do. To surrender to life and the systems I feel powerless to change and to step into each moment with the fullness, awareness of my task – that is my part. I must allow the feelings to come and to accept them. I don’t have to wallow in or change them. (I think that’s called self-indulgence.)

I take responsibility. And I rest in that.

I can live in the balanced place which is, for me, that quietude with the feelings – watching them come and go. In still silence waiting, observing what’s happening within. And doing this until the right action comes like a glorious dawn.

Inspiration…a deep inhalation, an insight that calls me to action at the top of the breath, the slow exhale into the action.

Then I focus each act, each attitude, each breath during the day, on deliberate, specific movement that flows toward that which I’ve been called to do.   

Letting outcome go. Changing the system (whichever one it is with which I find fault, or on which I want to place the blame), begins with me. It starts with a relinquishing of control, the desire to manipulate. It is about hearing the call of the heart’s wisdom and allowing each task in which I engage to be one of deep, abiding attention so that I am moved, the earth is moved, closer to a pattern of living that is open-ended.

Goals point toward…

Quiet gives me space to listen…

The moment requires focused action…

There must be continual release, over and over again, of an outcome I cannot control, predict…

And there I find the relief of remembering that I am not in charge. We all have a piece that is rightfully ours. How can we each do that piece that is ours to undertake in any moment and do so fueled by compassion, directed by insight, relieved of being in charge of the outcome?

I am not the (only) one who can change a system. I am the only one who can do my piece in contribution toward a shift... toward a vital, compassionate practice of living on this earth in harmony with all beings, with all that is.

All blog photographs taken by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted.

Jaunting Around the Moment

Come with me. Just for a minute…into my office, over to the bookshelf. It’ll be fun. I am going to look up a word that I use throughout my writing:  moment.

Earlier this week I realized I wanted to do a very tiny exploration on this word. Of course, this meant I had to start with the dictionary (The New Oxford American) on my shelf. Do you see what it says?:

* a very brief period of time

* an exact point in time

* an appropriate time for doing something, an opportunity

* a particular stage in something’s development or in a course of events

* importance

The dictionary goes on for quite a while in this vein, even bringing in physics and statistics. (Ha! I’ll spare us both on these.)

Then the American Oxford offers phrases: 

“in a moment”

“moment of truth”

“not a moment too soon”

“of the moment”

“not for one moment”

And my favorite:  “live for the moment!”

Neighbors in the dictionary include “momentarily”, “momentary” and “momentus!” 

What I take away from this quick hike through the pages leading the reader from “mole to Monet” is that a moment is *short, *specific, *rightful, and *very significant.

*Each moment is finite, in the schema of hours, weeks, years, or a lifetime.

*Every moment we truly live within is one which we can also identify (right there! see?) in the painting of our life.

*The moment, this one or that one, has a place in the landscape of our life; it is not random or inappropriate but rather shapes the quality of one’s life (and perhaps of all Life). Every moment is a part of…Without each moment, something is missing, the fabric of the whole is holey. (I want holy moments, myself.)

            *A moment (particularly this one) is crucial.

I found a magnet a few years ago and affixed it to my refrigerator; it reads: “Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away!” And yet, I do not measure moments. I wouldn’t know when “this moment” expires. Understanding a “moment” requires for me hindsight, reflection. I can feel a moment, though. And this seems of absolute import in the scope of my short tenure as a human on this earth. That’s what the magnet is really saying to me:  Succomb to each one, every tiny thing as it is when it arrives in the collage of my day; allow my chest to heave and my lips to utter “oh!” and “ah!” Of course, this also asks that I slow down long enough to notice…a challenge for a doer like me. Yes, what “The Moment” (the specific one, each and every last one of ‘em) asks from each one of us is attention, presence, respect…to be noticed, perhaps even without judgment.

This is my lifetime practice. I love to write the words, to play with these ideas here in an unedited piece that I throw onto my blog like a loaded paintbrush which will randomly fling colored, wet drops onto the page when I wildly swirl its handle…The outcome I can never predict. But perfection is not in a final product or outcome; the Beauty is in engaging the practice of the moment:  playing with words; ideas as gooey as colors on a canvas; the moon in the instant it shines light from behind the thick, moving, obscuring clouds; robins bouncing and plucking through thick, wet grass. The moments that take my breath away are not measurable by a clock, or a calendar; they are weighed by my heart and inner wisdom which feels the valuable gift of each one that I happen to remember to notice.

Thank you for taking this moment out of your day, to enter my study and flip the dictionary pages with me. To which moment will you next pay deep and abiding attention?

All blog photographs taken by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted.