What to do when it feels like you have nothing to say.
What do you offer when things feel empty, vacant, and lacking inspiration?
Listen, receive, remember.
What is the truth of the moment?
The truth of the now is that this newsletter entry feels like a bit of a burden, something I must do to reach out and touch the community. How can I inspire, what can I say. Perhaps just sharing that sometimes I feel uninspired to share anything at all will more relatable than sharing some foriegn sacred text and offering meaning for you. Perhaps just sharing that sometimes I feel uninspired to share anything at all will be more relatable than sharing some foreign sacred text and offer my translation of meaning to you. Perhaps sharing vulnerably that sometimes I do not know, sometimes I worry, or sometimes I doubt, may be better served. Perhaps showing my imperfections will feel be more relatable than sharing how the heroism of standing strong in practice has helped give me visibility, purpose, and leadership. Feeling quite lackluster and empty for words is where I stand with this humble intro for October. Be it the cold dry winds, the dark mornings, or feeling into the depth of despair and the weight of the world.
I’ll say this. Today, I again chose to rise with the light of the sun. I laced up my shoes and went to the seaside to witness the sun dance on the horizon. Awe struck I was wrapped in the grand offering of Mother Nature, I was humbled and grateful to be able to witness the raw beauty of life, to feel unwavering resilience, to see impermanence in motion, and be utterly captivated by raw magnificence and art.
I could not ask for a better time to welcome in the process of gathering in a collective to hold space for reflection, quietude, and sacred movements throughout my day. Welcoming both the parts of me that feel uninspired, full of questioning, uncertain, paired with the parts of me that are touched by the raw beauty of this dance of life we are a part of. The seasonal cleanse that Liz and I are offering to the community is intended to create a space where we support each other in the process of letting go, moving inward, and sitting with all that we are, the light and the dark. Whether you join us for this cleanse, or join us in practice on your mat, my hope is that all of us can carve out space to lean in, to trust, and to patiently welcome all that is true in you. As you listen, start to better know the things that you need to fill your cup and remember your own resilience to move through life with gratitude, wide receptive eyes and an open heart… the glimmer of the stars, the sound of a friend’s voice, the embrace of a child, the taste of a hearty homemade soup, the smell of baked apples, the sound of crackling fire. As Mary Oliver says, “Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination.”
The unwavering light in me
humbly bows to the radiant light in all of you;
“Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.