Songs of Silence

It's raining this morning in California, pre dawn and I can hear the chirp of only one particular bird singing in the rain. Braving the elements of mother nature and in the dark. I don't know why but this moment sparked a thought about songs and silence...this is what silence means to me.

The golden silence of an early morning rise, when it seems that no one but myself is up and greeting the world. A comforting moment in darkness and in stillness. Everything painted with a hush allowing for my mind, body and soul to connect, to plug-in gently before dawn breaks into song. Blank sheets of music yet to be written.

The purposeful silence in meditation lasting for minutes, an hour or a week. The path of following only the direction of the breath. That is the goal. But then there is the mind. Our trickster heard louder in silence. In the absence of our conscious distractors, the volume of the monkey mind is turned up. When the monkey sleeps, silence sings a light through our heart lighting the way for the path of the soul. Truth rising to crescendo.

The destructive silence, where two people come together and no longer have anything to say. The withholding of relational lyrics in pained retaliation. The thought of a cold shoulder that still brings shivers to the spine. The absence of song for this dance brings stillness into a different frame of reference. This form of silence, sounds much louder than the rest. The passage that brings us to the end of a movement in relationship.

The songs of silence are many and these are just a few for me.

What does silence bring up for you?

Serenity

Serenity
A word in perfection

describing the time of day

when darkness of night has not quite yet

 yielded to the break of a new dawn

Serenity

When the wind's whisper is gentle

 soft as sweet nothings in a lover's ear

Serenity

The color of the world muted

its vibrancy hushed and blurred

 like the waking mind

Serenity

Eyes fluttered closed in silence 

the sleeping with minds open 

drifting their dreams towards 

the catchers in the winking sky

Serenity

The symphony of sentient beings on pause 

my heart swells in the enormity of quiet

I have the whole world to myself

Guardian Crow

You made yourself known

With impeccable timing

Deliberate cadence in your voice

Raised above your brother

"Caw, I am here"

Caw, caw, I am near"

"Caw, I am forever watching"

Messages left behind

In feathered trails

Roosted above my sanctuary

Beside me on desolate paths

"Caw, I am here"

Caw, caw, I am near"

"Caw, I am forever watching"

You take the branches I shed

Building your territorial home

On a street you've known before

I'm under your watchful eyes

"Caw, I am here"

Caw, caw, I am near"

"Caw, I am forever watching"

I hear you resting near my heart

Uncanny encounters 

Transcending space and time

I'm grateful, as I answer you back

"Caw, caw, you will never be forgotten"

In memory of Jeffrey Weinberger, my son by choice. He is our Guardian Crow.

Alive in the World

"Alive in the World" is the title to one of my favorite Jackson Browne songs. It comes from his "Looking East" album released in 1996. The album represents Jackson's return to more socially-oriented themed music through lyrics, which must be why I love this song so much.

It was during a peaceful drive home from Palm Desert heading west to San Diego, when Jackson's song began piping through the car speakers. I was alone in my car, the sky ahead was blue and clear of clouds, with fresh white snow blanketed the sides of the road. Just as I crested over the pass through the San Bernardino National Forest, the song came on. The lyrics as clear as the sky made their way into my mind and out my eyes in the form of tears streaming down my face. 

It's not the first time lyrics have spoken to me in this way. But in this moment, the combination of them colliding with the view surrounding me, was just too much to take in while driving. I could barely see the road behind my blurred vision, so I pulled over to absorb the magnificence of the moment. 

It was what I call a divine intervention moment. One that cannot be described or explained—like the "you had to be there" kind, and even if you were there, you would have needed to be inside of me to experience it. 

The lyrics from "Alive in the World" became my mantra that year, and beyond as mantra for my life. When something speaks so loudly, I have come to pay it the deserved attention—without question. And this was one of those times.

The lyrics from Jackson Browne's song speak to the coming of a new world, where fear and cynicism is trumping our humanity, where technology is redefining community and the human experience, and the idea of self preservation prevails over all others. By all accounts, his words speak to him opting out of these (my words) dangerous ways of being in this world, and I am with him. 

Below is an excerpt from the lyrics "Alive in the World" and I encourage you to read them and take them in fully. Find the song on line and have a listen. 

I want to live in the world, not inside my head

I want to live in the world, I want to stand and be counted...

I want to live in the world, not behind some wall

I want to live in the world, where I will hear if another voice should call...

To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world

To open my eyes and fully arrive in the world...

And the infinite power of change

Alive in the world

How many times have you seen or been a part of not extending a hand to another who has fallen? The action of non-action out of fear for self, or thought as you walked on by "Someone else will get that." I'm not saying that I am perfect in my everyday human interaction, however, I am aware of the dangers before us and strive to show-up awake and alive in the world. 

Will you come with me?

Heart Rush

During the 23rd consecutive day of yoga, I experienced something there that I have felt at other times and places, and perhaps because it didn't come during a time of stillness, it came and went in less than a momentary notice. It didn't hang with brilliance and longevity like the twinkling star waiting to be named, dangling above in the dark sky of night.

The front of my heart in a posture hovering above the grounded earth, the back side open, soft and vulnerable, greeting the sky. In stillness for a period of time, long enough to bring about change, to open barricaded channels built over time and experience.

What I speak of, the thing I have named, is an inexplicable feeling, like a wave of warmth and goodness blanketing the soul. A brief encounter with what I believe to be our true nature, and it came to me in a "heart rush." Those were the two words that came to me, unsolicited, magically popping into my head. The wakeless feelings of pure joy and connection happened twice during my practice. The gratuitous naming both a blessing and a curse. The blessing, honoring it with a name in recognition and appreciation. The curse, giving it a name and wondering if it will visit me again.

Every day on the yoga mat brings with it a new experience, just like the rhythms of our lives. Some days nothing but bliss and ease, other days the chaos of the mind can only simmer down to a whisper. The body bending into postures promoting delicious releases of histories in pain and dis-ease, and gloriously, like this day, in an unexpected and welcome moment, a "heart rush."

Dedicated to my teacher Cindy Angelina Shaw, who provides the safe and loving environment for release, transformation and love.

Namaste.

Platform of Reflection

Unfurling the mind like the sailcloth on a jib, 

set free to catch a fresh breath of wind.

The body stretched out straight and strong,

a plank reaching out beyond the bow of spirit.

Breathing in and out the ocean sounds,

mimicking the ebb and flow of the sea.

Looking deeply into the depths of blue, 

reaching down to bottom of the soul.

Reflections of self,

through the eye of the dolphin

mirrored under ripples of waves.

The invitation to expand and open,

from the platform of reflection.

Paving my Way

After a long two year period of being very tethered to home, wondering where did my enthusiastic, motivated and I-can-do-anything, self go. I remember. Oh yeah...she was grieving. Two losses in less than two months of each other, both equally soul shattering.

The second one stripped me to my core. The unexpected passing of my eldest son's bestie, of sixteen years, who was in all ways but one, a son to me. Receiving the news that he, at the young age of 37 had left us, is underscored here as shocking. It couldn't be, this must be a sick joke. The date ironically, was April 1st.

There is a long list of pain around this loss—feeling the emotions empathically from my son, those that belonged to me and the incomprehensible loss from his parents. Thinking about what they must be feeling, well, it took my breaths away.

From the moment the call of disbelief came through from my son, through the moment I made the call to his parents, delivering a parent's worst nightmare of news, our block-long house of cards came tumbling down. All of us—forever changed.

The road back from grief has not been as smooth as a newly paved one. With those neatly painted straight lines in bright white and bold yellow, stretching out the distance of boundaries and direction. It has been a bumpy ride, full of potholes, lots of noise under the tired treads and faded of a clear destination.

The corner turned into a new year. The view ahead started to feel much clearer, as acceptance—the final step in the process began to settle in. Not without times of hitting a little rough patch along the way. Kicking up some loose gravel of emotion, only but a temporary loss of traction. "That is life" as they say.

The signs ahead indicate I am paving my way back. Exciting new terrain to explore, with windows washed, radio up and a full tank of gas.

On the bright side of my road.

Stillness is an Option

Delivered through the lips of the yoga instructor, "stillness is an option."

A single and short phrase of something so profoundly simple, easily overlooked as an option in the life filled with a calendar of distractions, hurried decisions, wasted with worry and fear.

The slavery to continue doing or saying, without pause, compounding exponentially. 

The natural flow of deep breathing constricted as the heart beats rhythm out of control.

There exists divine permission to do or say nothing—until you can again. From an open space, a more loving and compassionate place.

The world will wait. Stillness is an option.

Have you ever had moments when the more you say the worse things seem? Like painting a mistake on a piece of canvas, adding more and more layers of paint of correction only to create a muddy mess. Have you considered taking the path of stillness as an option?

With New Wings

Where am I on this journey?

I have just made my way out of a long period of cocooning. I experienced the process of disintegration, and have fully emerged with a new pair of wings. A new dawn, a new perspective—the next leg of the journey.

The garden of life's delights looking delicious as I'm flitting about.

The winds and the rain sometimes chasing me into safe harbor. I find within me, the nearest nest of respite.

My wings are beautiful, strong, complete and complex. In their polarity they are delicate and vulnerable.

When the rain clouds lift and the winds die down to a lofty breeze, I return to my freedom of flight.

I am the butterfly—with new wings.

In the Hush of a Sunrise

What I love more than the colors themselves, is the quiet and assuming way they present themselves. Without chatter or clamor, not an echo is spoken to draw the slightest bit of attention. You either are awake for the experience or you are not.

The presence and gifts are available everyday—without condition.

I thought of Vincent Van Gogh this morning. I didn't know him, yet I have a sense that when he painted, his brushstrokes were also an outward quiet expression of creation. His paintings not presented with the condition that someone must love them. They were created with the same universal beauty of a colorful sunrise. They had to come out. Channeled as a hushed expression of all that is right and true.

I have the same experience many times with my writing. The words spilling out, doing their best through me, to paint in phrases of sunrise. Quietly resting on a page to be read and taken in fully—or not.

Once in a while I will go back and read something I have written. More times than not I think, "Who wrote that?"

Just like in the hush of a sunrise, God did.

Quiet Mind

As my mind

 becomes a quieter,

gentler place, 

the noise

 from the outside world,

 seems to be getting 

louder.

Sometimes too loud.