My Blog

This Morning

Where was I this morning when I remembered?  I was moving about my kitchen getting the kids fed and ready for their day.  I stopped and breathed when, mid-sentence, I landed on what day it was - September 11th.  I caught myself, stopped pouring the smoothie, and took a deep breath.  "Oh, today is an anniversary, a hard one," I said out loud.  Naturally, my two step children were curious.  Both of them asked what was this anniversary.  I gave them the gentlest explanation I could through the sadness in my chest.  The understood and were tender in their listening.  My nine year old son said he remembered hearing about the planes at school.  "I feel shivers," he said, stroking his arm.  And my 11 year old daughter repeated the words, "oh, I'm sorry."  The three of us shared some easy moments of remembrance, sending blessings and love to all who were lost and all who lost their loved ones.  
I thought of my nephew, a New York city police officer who was on the scene for endless hours and days. I thought of my cousin who's best friend, a NY fireman who died going in to save others.  I thought of the island, my home, my roots, my family there in New York.  And I think of the beauty and ferocity of all souls who were devastated by the tumbling towers, and how they, we, live in celebration of the sacredness of life.  

Here we are, doing the best we can with what we have - all in.  That's what I'm up to.  I look at this day with haunting images and sensations crossing my mind and body.  But I am also right here, all in - living full out in what is my life in this moment.  We can do that - feel utter grief and bewilderment, and still help your kid get her shoes on, and laugh at the dog, and get them off to school on time and kiss our love goodbye for the day.  (Or I pray, it's just the day.)

This morning I remembered that morning eight years ago.  I know exactly where I was and what I was doing, who I was mourning with on the phone while we watched.  This morning - I remembered with love and compassion so that I could be right there with the kids.

I've decided to launch my blog on this particular day, a sort of birthday.  I see it as a way of honoring so many who did not get to say goodbye.  I'd like to share my thoughts and teachings, musings and queries about the topic of completion or closure.  We find completion in every beginning.  In every beginning, something ends. 

 So I start here - I am completing any notion that what I have to say needn't be expressed here, that my voice wouldn't find the readers who long to be recognized in what I have to offer.  I am getting complete with my fears and perceptions that this medium of expression is not for me, too techie for me.  And I'm beginning to get my voice further out, to take another risk, to stretch myself.  It's good for me. 

Endings and beginnings - recognizing them helps us be all the way IN our lives.  

May the Gods and Goddesses bless and keep those lost on 9/11, as well as all those who came in on that sacred day.  May we finds sanctuary in that fact that we are all connected, no matter what.

Well, now off to feed the children again, and have family movie night.  I plan to give and receive even extra snuggles. 

Peace,   BJB

Inside - Outside

Hmm, the heat's turned on for the first time this season.  It's not even officially autumn yet.  The sky is gray with a chill in the air.  Did you ever have the sense that you could smell the snow on its way?  I thought I might today.  No, not quite yet.  

Today I longed to linger under the covers with a good book and my cat beside me.  But work drew me out.

I wanted to remain inward, inside, all in.  This is a time when the seasons transition, the weather shifts, and the energetics of the external elements invite us to go in, slow down.  Seems we have to give ourselves active permission to do and be what would tend to come naturally to us.  

So now, I am restful, enjoying the warmth of my home and appreciating the whirring sound of my heat turned on.  My invitation:  Does the inside and the outside match?  Are you creating and experiencing what is going on "out there" in a way that is accurately revealing your internal state?  For example, inside me I feel quite, warm, slow, grounded.  I am following this moment, listening in and noticing that  my body wants a gentle pace.  If I were going out without a jacket, bustling around and clamoring to the next meeting or errand - then the inside and the outside would not match.  

How do we allow the inside and the outside to match when we clearly have the responsibilities of home, families, work, etc?      Take pause.     Let the transitions of your day have moments of pause to breathe and acknowledge what is true within.  Pace rather than rush.  Every moment is precious and there will be plenty of time for what is most important when we are true to our nature.

Tossing this out to you is one way that I am choosing to pause, take notice, slow down.

Blessings, 

BJ

Writing +

So if I write about only this moment, then I can say that I feel in a sweet state of calm, breathing deeply, Porter- the golden doodle sleeping beside me.  I hear the call of a king fisher out back.  The morning has been gray only until a minute ago, when light broke through and lit up the foliage out back.

This is today's meditation, and one of my favorite ways to drop in, to BE IN most of my days.  I refrain from the report of the mundane happs of my busy family life.  Yes, the mundane is also sacred to me.  But writing like this is like the first bite of a ripe Colorado peach.  Writing as though I am meditating on this moment, and now, and now feels enlivening to me.  Everything jumps out for my attention: now the robin, how the light changes, the chill on my toes, the first sign of gold on our aspen, the softness of my body rounding 'round my breath.  

Writing grounds me.  Using my senses to direct what gets expressed is honest, unarguable, and simple presence.  We all have that gift, the vastness of our own bodies as the palette for creative expression.  Then any day, any time, any where,  I can write about anything.   I like that.

Hey out there, if you think you cannot write, or you are not creative, please nullify that thought.  It isn't real.  It is only real if you keep repeating the thought, thus turning it into what you believe about yourself.

Try on something like this:  I drop into this moment and say, "YES- I'll BE IN this moment now and simply splash some color on the page, or write what I see in my garden, or I'll prepare a lovely meal, or I'll dance in my living room."  These are all forms of creativity. 

Have a sublime day.

Peace,  BJB

Auspicious

It's a rainy, chilly day in Boulder, with a sure whiff of Autumn in the air.  My love and I have just returned from the sacred sanctuary of the natural world near Allenspark.  We joined in circle there with a community of students, friends, loves, and strangers to a man named David LaChapelle.  He was a beloved spiritual teacher of so many for decades.  We celebrated him through this memorial on land he knew and on which he'd done vision quests.

Rain came down.  We chanted, and laughed and cried.  We told stories and sent blessing and appreciation up to him.  Auspicious day -  I notice how it rains at times like this, sacred days.  His wife sang a song she'd written only this week.  Her voice rang out with such sweetness - a gentle surprise.  I thought the rain must surely be for her, as her lyrics spoke of flow, rain and birth, and cleansing.  The moment the ceremony came to a close, before anyone even left the circle, the thunder began to roll.  

We memorialized a brilliant soul.  A circle of goodbyeing that was our container that held an abundance of love for him.  He shone and taught a great, bright reflection of love to each of us in some way or another.  

Endings and beginnings - I am so taken with them and their sameness.  I am dearly enchanted by our connection, a constant thread between all of us, whether we see it or not and whether we choose to believe it or not.  Beginnings and endings - initiations and completions; I find these to be my soul companions.

We came home frozen to the bone and wet and smelling of woodsmoke.  Yum!  Ah - and the hot bath welcoming us, enfolding our bodies and readying us into the evening of cuddles and chinese food with the children are all just as sacred to me as our Shiva chant.

Thank you David, for being connected and fanning this fire that is my family.

Peace, BJB