Recently my older son was baptized at St. John’s Episcopal Church in Oakland. He requested the full dunk, not the sprinkle, and the church went for it, moving mountains to make this happen. It makes me emotional thinking about the community coming together to problem solve how to get this 5’8” young man fully immersed in water inside the small church. But they did it. And Jimmy realized his desire, taking in this blessing with grace and joy. I’m still processing everything that happened. It was incredibly touching, bringing both rectors and many of the congregants to tears.

Last week a retreat participant emailed me a beautiful blessing by John O’Donohue from To Bless the Space Between Us. I was touched by it and wanted to share it with you.

May you recognize in your life the presence, power, and light of your soul.

May you realize that you are never alone, that your soul in its brightness and belonging connects you intimately with the rhythm of the universe.

May you have respect for your individuality and difference.

I’ve been challenged in the past few months to look at some old patterning in myself and make some deep shifts. It’s hard. We don’t grow by staying in our comfort zone, I know this. We tolerate (or resist or embrace) the uncomfortable experiences of change in order to expand. It’s easy for me to see this and celebrate it in others. When a loved one or a client is experiencing the discomfort of change, I can honor the growth and expansion that is inherent in it. But it’s much harder when I’m in the midst of a period like this to hold the bigger picture for myself.

This weekend my fourteen year old son asked if we could play the lost game. I didn’t know what that was but apparently it’s driving around directionless. He said he wanted to spend time with me and well, say no more. We drove through Canyon and talked about life, love and spirituality. He shared a lot of insights with me that touched me deeply. I mostly listened. I wanted to share some of his thoughts with you.

This past week I’ve been particularly aware of my mind and its relentless activity. I’ve found it running old tapes of worry or regret or problem solving that seem to go nowhere. When these tapes are running, I am not in my body, not in the present moment. The mind’s activity is distracting me, protecting me from a feeling that I don’t want to feel. To see through the mind’s strategy of protection is wild. What happens if I don’t believe my mind? What is this activity trying to protect me from? What’s happening right now in my actual experience? These simple questions put me back in contact with myself.

I had an intense experience this week where I had a speck of dirt stuck under my eyelid and it was scratching my cornea every time my eye or lid moved. It was brutal. Ten out of ten on the pain scale. I didn’t understand what was happening and wasn’t able to get care for about 10 hours. During this time, I was so grateful to have my meditation practice (and the support of my husband). I had no choice but to surrender to the pain. It wasn’t easy. At times I would move into panic, but was mostly able to drop into a place of trust and silence underneath the panic where I could be with what was happening. I’m so grateful that I know this quiet place within. It held me.

I connect to the great mystery this morning and feel so grateful for this day. It is still dark. The sun has yet to make an appearance and I anticipate it with excitement knowing it is a gift.

There is an explosion of love in my heart that is still present from this weekend’s retreat. I am in awe of the field of courage, humility, vulnerability, wisdom, loving connection and joy that we created together. It was a deeply sacred and transformational one for me (they all are) but I am clearer than ever about what I want to create on retreat. These brave and beautiful souls showed me and I am forever changed.

Today, I am simply inviting you to slow down and connect with yourself. Take a moment to relax into the body and make contact with whatever is here in this moment. Stay with whatever is arising, breathing in and out, bringing your awareness to what is happening without judgement or story. What appears as you stay in awareness? What is wanting your attention? Be here as long as you need to. Relax into this beautiful re-connection of you with you.

Lately I have found myself coming home to the ground of being throughout the day. Even if the day is busy, the reminder is there: the invitation to let go of efforting. It isn’t a thought as much as a feeling in the body of letting go. It feels like a sweet surrender into stillness. The me that has been worrying or pushing can rest here.

The other day I was driving to pick up my son from jazz band when a realization came into my consciousness. It was a clear and deep appreciation of the part of me that has been working so hard all of these years to simply keep going. I actually felt in awe of myself that I’ve been willing to open to the challenges of life, that I have navigated being human for half a century in a world that doesn’t necessarily want me to thrive. It hasn’t been easy but I have managed to keep moving forward. This is big.

Last week my fourteen year old son had an experience he described as God entering his body. He said he was in spirituality class at school and he was filled with a profound love for everyone, even people who had hurt him. He felt he received a message that we are all here to love everyone unconditionally.

It’s becoming clearer and clearer that our culture is not supporting our mental, physical and emotional health. We are bombarded with capitalist ideals of worthiness that leave us isolated, exhausted and often hopeless. Even if we are successful in meeting the culture’s expectation of us (maybe even because of it) we are not guaranteed happiness, freedom, inner peace. More than ever we are questioning the ways we have been conditioned to move through the world.

A beautiful side effect of meditation is the discovery of self forgiveness. When I have the courage to sit with my disavowed parts, I eventually see through the illusion of judgment. True freedom is the realization that I never needed judgment to begin with…that I am whole…that I am deeply loved by life.

What a wonderful adventure retreat is. I can close my eyes and re-experience the excitement, the connection, and the depth of the November retreat. It’s amazing what can happen when we come together in a shared devotion and commitment to the truth.

The practice of staying in vulnerability, in the raw truth of this moment…not trying to escape, control, understand, strategize…is not easy. Reality has no interest in any of the attempts of the ego to wrangle it into something that feels good. It wants to be seen, naked and true, and it wants to give you itself in its fullness.

Today, my heart is heavy. Over the last few days, I have been in touch with some old pain in my being and this has opened me up even more than usual to the suffering in the world. It is a lot to hold. It almost feels like as I stay with this heaviness, not reacting or turning away or needing it to change, I feel an intense upgrading of love in the heart. How else do we do this human-ing?

In meditation this morning I felt my attention immediately drop into the heart and I allowed my awareness to rest there. What a gift to rest in the awake awareness of the heart. I followed the breath as it moved in my chest, expanding and opening the energy there. After some time, I followed this awareness as it moved into the belly and experienced what I would describe as an eternal state of being.

In spirituality, we are often invited into the light. To see through the eyes of unconditional love and to know the infinite okayness of our being. We love the light. It feels good there. We can dream there and know that everything is possible. And it’s true, everything is possible.

On Wednesday mornings I attend a sangha at St. John’s Episcopal Church in Oakland where we read the teachings of Thich Nhat Hanh, meditate and have inspiring discussions. This morning we were talking about how “self love” is a concept that can be difficult to understand. I know it has been for me.

I spent the weekend at a beautiful retreat center, a sacred place that calls to me. A friend said, “The veil is thin here.” I was walking alone through the grounds as the fog was lifting and the mountains were beginning to be visible and I thought, “I feel vulnerable.” It was a quiet voice but it got my attention. Yes, I thought, I feel vulnerable.