Open Hands—Opens Heart

Imagine closing your eyes, your arms outstretched with the palms of your hands open and facing the sky. In the practice of yoga this is considered receiving mode. Then imagine a gift being gently placed in the cradle of your hands. It doesn't matter the nature of this gift, its size, shape or monetary value, what matters is the way it is being received. Does it feel heavy, like a burden? In the moment of receiving are there companion thoughts? What does this mean? What does he/she want from me? How will I reciprocate?

Or...are you able, as I am learning, with open hands to allow in the gift from another—of another? For nothing more and everything of—the offering itself? To be thought-less in the moment of the thought-full exchange? Can you/I allow the gift to dive below the surface of the physical, swim the channel of extended arms toward an open heart—an opening heart?

Last month I spent 30 days gifting—paying it forward. My reflection toward the end of this practice concluded with just how easy it was to gift for the pure pleasure of giving—much in anonymity and letting go of any sort of self patting on the back. Heading into this month, there was this little voice speaking from the archives of "things I once heard," that receiving was also a gift back to the giver. With that in mind, I set out in April (also happened to be my birthday month) to experience 30 Days of Receiving.

Day 24: I can't begin to tell you how liberating this has been. To be free of thought and be in pure acceptance of bountiful gifts. From gestures of smiles, kisses, well-wishes, and compliments to the traditionally wrapped varieties. Gifts freed from the sea and the garden to notes filled with gratitude for me just being me, and one PBJ sandwich lovingly wrapped, bagged and scribed with my name—LORI, a heart shape dotting the i. Accepting the mirror of glory and greatness in being human. Miracles delivered from God. The month is not over and my heart runneth over.

A visual now formulating in my minds-eye as I write today, two people in profile facing one another with arms stretched forward and in the exchange of "the gift," the symbol for infinity appeared. The figure eight flowing from heart to hands, hands to heart, heart to hands, hands to heart. A symbiotic event, the definition between giver and receiver dissolving. The path of infinite possibility illuminated—from open hands to open hearts.

Letting go-ward

I've been debating (with myself) how to write about my experiences during the month of March, where I lived into the intention of philanthropy. I chose "pay it forward" as my 30 Day Project, a month long daily practice of conscious giving.

To write about it seemed a contradiction to the practice, and somewhere in the archives from my rather non traditional Catholic upbringing was a teaching about that very thing. I'm not much of a bible quoter, and I found it here in Matthew 6:2; "But when you give to the poor, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing."

After some careful consideration and this morning's ah-ha moment/title I am prepared to move forward typing with both my left and right hands open to what spills out next on the page. No celebration, only a share.

There were lessons learned, times of giggly grace, faces left in confusion—sometimes my own and at the end, which really is only the beginning is my own experience of me, my actions and thoughts. In these moments, like a dropped rock in waters still and deep—the concentric ripples of deed spreading infinitely wide with invisible reach, their effects unknown. And like the rock breaking through the water's surface—with varying height in splashes, having no attachment to the ripples in destination on the surface above. The only concern of the rock—if any, is in the depth of its own being. 

Some of the hidden and revealed gems from this project, shined a light on where I still need to grow, and was also reflected back from my co-habitants of humanity. Here is a little story of one pay it forward, the one that kicked off this project. It will be the only one I share, as it is the shining example that allowed the rest of the month to unfold easily and unpredictably. 

It started at the 7/11 down the street from my house. I was in line purchasing my morning ritual coffee and at check-out I asked for a lottery ticket. The clerk while in mid-stream of handing me the potentially million-dollar-life-changing piece of paper, I asked her to please give it to the next person who came up to the counter. Insert her scrunched up face here. She didn't quite understand my request, so I said it again. I left quickly as I didn't want to be a voyeur into what happened next or who received it. As I was making the short walk back to my car my thoughts on two wheels were speeding laps around my mind. "Oh my God, I think I may have just given away a million dollars." My ego mind leaking out its history of missed opportunities, positions of lack and the holding things so close—the clear fear of dying. Death to the ego. I couldn't believe my thoughts and at the same time the clerk with the scrunched up face was reflecting back to me in a look of bewilderment that perhaps was saying—"Is she crazy? She may have just given away a million dollars!" 

I took my thoughts, thanked them and wadded them up like a cashed-in winning lottery ticket and tossed them in the trash with a smile. I think it may have been with my left hand, and I don't remember what my right hand was doing. That moment became the catalyst for the rest of the month and my life.

This morning as I contemplated writing this essay, I knew there was more here than the mere act of paying things forward—money, lottery tickets, a cup of coffee or a smile. For me it became clear that this was yet another evolution in my spiritual development, the practice of leading with a loving heart for no other reason than I believe that to be our innate and best feature of being human. 

One more layer in the practice of non-attachment, letting go...letting go-ward. 

The Eve of Unforeseen Grief

Todays marks the 2nd anniversary of the day before life shattering news would arrive at the doors to many of our lives. I can feel the sobs of anticipation that hover over the clouds of tomorrow. Portions of my own heart remain broken open. It's hard to be human sometimes. And this is one of those times. The presence of grief is acknowledged, "enough" time has not sufficiently passed.

My current day philosophical mentor— Mark Nepo writes in The Book of Awakening that, "It is brave and simple to say you are hurt when you are hurt, to say you are sad when you are sad, to say you are scared when you are scared." As I move further along the path of my own existence, the public face of holding strong is shedding. I am sad. Deeply sad and if you ask me "How are you?" on this day or any other, I have finally learned to tell my truth.

Today, grief is present, I am missing the light and being of my son of choice—Jeffrey Weinberger and at the same time grateful that he was a presence in our lives—my life.

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?

Seasons in My Life

By Twenty

Life's lessons came hard and fast

Encounters, unkind and non-consensual 

Lessons I was not prepared for

How could I have been?

By Thirty

A phase of contentment

Settled in by a place called home

Surrounded by my created family

I longed for nothing more

By Forty

Chords of dissonance

Crawling before I walked

Clearing the unwept mess of the past

Realigning with self

By Fifty

Freedom responding to life's open invitation

Procreation giving way to creativity
Higher wisdom in thought and action
Connection with love as priority

By Sixty?
It's peeking around my corner
I will wait in 'wonder'
And...
Listen to my heart for what beats next

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.