My office desk has become a place that reveals to me where I am avoiding; the work I am putting off and the dreams that are awaiting. Unopened envelopes, unread books, unused oils, items yet to find their place in my home. In the spaciousness of an unscheduled day at home, I walk by 100 times and ignore what is wanted to be touched, sorted, seen. Yet, today, as I walked by my desk, the crumpled cup that has been sitting on top on the left corner since my return flight from Costa Rica in early March said, “pick me up and write.”
The cup is nothing to write home about, and yet, it had a story to share with me, in me, and to be expressed from me. It is a simple 100% recycled cup, off white with blue writing. I was handed this cup on a return flight home on Copa Air Lines. It came to me filled with water.
On one side of the cup read:
Ser más sostenibles es nuestro mejor destino
And, on the other:
Becoming more sustainable is our best destination
In the moment I instantly was taken by the simple, yet profound message from the universe. Though I understood the message the marketing team was trying to spell out with their efforts to use a “green” or recycled cup to help sustain our beautiful Earth body, I felt a deeper message still (and, I also did smile at the paradox of receiving this recycled cup amidst the emissions of the tin can flying through the sky). Earth body, our bodies, my body. Becoming more sustainable is our best destination. The message landed in my lap during a time where I found myself far from living and breathing in a sustainable state. Stress levels were activated so intensely that it felt like my cells were being burned from the inside out. My mind was swirling with stories, conversations, to-dos that would not let me rest at night to sleep. The dissonance of mind and body aches led to distortions of hunger, fatigue, and irregular breathing patterns. Which in turn led to inability to be fully present to the continuous magic that was unfolding right in front of me. My life force felt like it was being tapped and sucked right out of me, unlike the tapping of a Maple, offering sweet blessings to share, this tapping was an inefficient energy leak that left me empty with not much to share.
I have led a life of learning to listen and be guided by my bodies’ ques. Deep gratitude to my mother and her love for movement and appreciation and understanding for the energy body. I grew up dancing, moving in athletics, and eventually making my way into yoga and other forms of authentic movement. When I got sick as a child, the first place my mother would take me to was the acupuncturist: Heidi was her name. I remember her one room office, near Lake Harriet in the outskirts of Uptown Minneapolis. I remember going to her, telling her my ailment (belly ache, head cold, etc), then finding myself face up on the treatment table, acupuncture needles in my body, and feeling a connection to the swirls and spins of my energy body finding its way back home to equilibrium. I would leave with an oil, herb, or tincture to help me through the coming days. This all made sense to me as my body did come back to center.
The years that followed, I dove deeper into the ancient texts and studies of Yoga and Ayurveda, I gained vocabulary and practices to help me name, relate, and understand more intimately my energy body. I grew to understand how to listen at a deeper level to my bodies’ cues, needs, and messages. I began to feel how movements, sounds, foods, seasons, moon cycles, breath patterns, and vibrations all impacted my own state of being. If I was quiet enough to listen and receive, my body was always there to share information with me. I began attuning, seasonally, to allow for my body to find its path to easeful flow, allowing Spirit to be present and Consciousness to expand in me and around me.
And, I live in a world of conditions and under a spell of cosmic amnesia.
During this human life, I have become conditioned to believe that I am not enough. Conditioned to reach for answers outside of myself. I felt myself begin to believe a story that someone with three letters such as “PHD” or “LSW” may actually know more about me and my body than I know and feel. Or that science and psychology far outweighs an intuitive non-verbal process of healing.
I became conditioned to adapt, shift, and make small when around others, when my body was wanting to express, share, or speak.
I became conditioned to learn that success and abundance are measured by fiscal worth, productivity, and achievements that looked like “saving the world.” In order to succeed, one must work harder, longer, stronger. In order to do so, one must keep striving for educational degrees, credentials, number of likes on Instagram, higher salaries, and on and on.
I was in highschool, sitting shotgun with my dad. We were doing our weekly separated parents commute, from his home to my mom’s home. He had just gotten done mowing his lawn in perfect diagonal lines, I could still smell the cut grass and remnants of the cigar he puffed as he pushed along. We both were chomping down on Trident cinnamon gum talking about the days ahead. He was telling me about something at work. I remember his tone being quite dull and lackluster, which prompted me to ask him, “…are you happy”?
I think my question took him a bit by surprise as there was great pause. He didn’t name his happiness or his discontent, instead he stated he was making choices in his life that would best support his family and its sustainability. I found his response a bit heart wrenching. Grateful for his service as it supported me, but, moreso feeling the grand impact of his lack of contentment and connection with his very own sustainability. Little did I know then that only a few years later he would die of a heart attack. I have wondered since if part of his passing was a heart dying, a heart longing… a leak of his own vitality.
Ser más sostenibles es nuestro mejor destino; Becoming more sustainable is our best destination
I drank the whole cup of water and asked for seconds as the size of the cup didn’t match the intensity of the dry cabin air meeting my body. I kept reading the words over and over. Apologetically, religiously. Like a mantra it burned a new level of awareness and truth in me. My current state of being was not sustainable, a shift needed to be made. I asked for another refill on my water.
I have held onto this crumpled cup as a reminder of higher truths. The sustainability of the planet depends on the sustainability of each of our own bodies. When life is not in flow, not sustainable, it means something is not in alignment. Life works. My body is here to guide me; a channel to receive and give. I am listening. Abundance is our bodies in flow, flowing freely like undammed rivers. I choose to be a clear channel to support health, ease, and flow on this planet. I am grateful for all the ways life and circumstance has helped me to see who I am not, when I am not in flow, so I can remember again and again my way back home to my center.
I landed back home in Maine and within a week walked the talk of listening to my body and stepped away from a false allegiance to abundance and success. The cry of my body to find balance and trust again far outweighed the fear of the unknown future and what was to come. The moment I voiced this truth out loud it was like my body was gifted cosmic repatterning. I slept that night for the first time in months. My vision in the days to follow seemed clearer, brighter. My tender moments as a mother became less wobbly. And, doors began to open for teaching, connecting, and showing up in this world with grace, power, and truth. This is abundance and sustainability.
May we all find ways to remember our higher truths. May we find flow. May we notice when our bodies are signaling misalignment and allow ourselves to crack open to deeper truths. May we be supported with practices that help us find our way back home. May we be receptive enough to see all things in life as lessons, open to hear what is wanting to be heard, see what is wanting to be seen.
May it be so.
So Hum.
Spring blessings for your internal rise.
