Reflections From My True Self

Remembering Who I Really Am

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I am grateful that I am here, whole, present, alive… and taking this time. I am grateful that this day that threatened chaos has moved me to center myself, to remember what is important. I am grateful to remember that my only job is to align myself with my Deepest Wisdom.

I am grateful to realize that what is before me is what I must attend to, and that whatever is important and not before me, is also already unfolding. Therefore, I am grateful for the promised scent of toast and coffee.

I am grateful to trust enough to relax, even though I could cringe in fear for one hundred thousand reasons. I am grateful for Reiki, for the warmth it spreads through me, and for the love I can extend through it to others.

I am grateful that I serve. And grateful, too, that I don’t need to understand how I do. I am grateful for the connections I experience each day with the people whose paths I cross.

I am grateful for the awakening that my loved ones open in my chest: my children, Brujo, the friends of my soul. I am grateful for their help in expanding my experiences, my awarenesses.

I am grateful for beauty: in the white sky brushed by naked branches, in the music of laughter, and the stark silhouette of a high rise by the lake. I am grateful for red: in my Oma’s shawl, and the cardinal in the window.

I am grateful that this day holds so many treasures that I cannot sit here and enumerate them, that I must go now and waken my children with soft kisses to warm cheeks, and feed them, and begin again the dance of the day, that wearies me, and enlivens me, all at once!


Photo Credit: John Boyer

Photo Credit: John Boyer


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Let the Beauty We Love Be What We Do

Today, like Rumi says, I wake up empty and frightened. I don’t even know why, perhaps because the children’s coughing interrupted my sleep, or because I have not been mindful, these past days, of stepping outside in silence, of reaching deeply inside. And once I enter the day feeling quaky and constrained, small self would have me believe there is nothing to change that, any memory I have of expansiveness and peace is just that, something faint and musty that doesn’t belong in the present.

But then I open the shades and the soft brushing of snow shines up at me in sunlight and a beam of light falls warm upon my arm. And even though I am still indoors, even though I have not yet stepped out into the brisk morning and the cardinal’s calls, already I can feel  a shifting inside me, a readiness to notice beauty around me, in the scent of the tea I will soon drink and the gentle click of a dog’s steps on the kitchen floor.

Rumi says:

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don’t open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down the dulcimer.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

And, as I turn to make breakfasts and lunches and hurry through my day, I stop to take a deep inhalation of tea-scented air, and hug Golondrina’s warm body.