This house of ours It is with love that we share the memories, the appliances and the furniture. We invite our hearts arms open wide. I am yours and you are mine. The furniture may change through the years, Along with the appliances and technology. The love is constant like the walls that shield us from the storms. When I am with you, I know true acceptance. There is no place for shame or blame of past circumstance. All are welcome to embody this place. The walls may hold all the memories: the proposal, the wedding, and contain our growing family as our hearts swell in this shared space. It may feel small at times. When we feel there’s an overabundance of toys and gadgets. There just doesn’t seem to be any free space to just be. It is a manifestation of our abundant love and ability to provide our children with cherished memories, A foundation of that security, A love they can carry with them into their own future houses.
Author: Healing Insights with Jen
I share my stories honestly as an attempt to find meaning and connection. My intention is that by sharing our stories we ultimately heal ourselves and the world. I want to be a beacon of light to show that it is possible to find your footing and inner strength even when the world seems to be in chaos.
In darkness
Each morning I awake in darkness. My mind tricks me that it’s still night. But the alarm can’t be wrong, Can it? So I grumble a little Then I sit up and swing my legs to the side of the bed. I take sweet side stretches Awakening my muscles and side body. Only then will I stand up And greet the day. I begin my morning yoga in pure darkness. The only light emanates from my iPad as I start a yoga video. My personal asana practice is quiet. Everyone else is slumbering. They, too, feel that it is still night. Too dark to awaken. So I enjoy the solitude and present moment to connect breath and movement. My yoga practice ends with a brief meditation. Then I click on a lamp so I can write in my mindset journal. Sometimes I write about last night’s dream Like a real, tangible memory deep in my mind. Oftentimes, I like to write my lunar affirmation and intention three times in a row in my notebook. That is my ideal morning trifecta while the sun is still in slumber. My favorite time of the year is when the sun rises while I’m in the shower. I see its rays peek behind the curtains and begin their path up along my bathroom wall. If I time it just right, the whole shower gets illuminated in fresh morning light. For now I will have to wait for the synchronicity of getting to bathe in sunlight. It is all right. I can wait. My morning routine is a constant even when the sunrise is not.
Colorless
The stretch of grass Once lush and green is now stunted and colorless. Another bright summer has past and the Bountiful harvest has been plucked out. The earth’s gifts enjoyed by both young and old. Their mouths hungrily gobbled up the bounty. And now the ground is bare, colorless Still with no life. In spring the new sprout shows there is No death, no end Just a new beginning. An opportunity to embark On a journey of inner knowing, Inner peace, inner stillness. Uttering hints at what may come to be. Inspired by Walt Whitman “A Child Said, What is the Grass?”
Coffee break
My hands cupped around the warm coffee mug. It is full of aroma And I savor the flavor. My fingers hook gently yet firmly on the handle as I bring it in for a sip. The warm liquid gets swallowed down my throat as I promptly go in for another taste. If I get distracted with conversation, with technology, with making future plans or anything that takes me away from the simple pleasure of drinking fresh coffee, the liquid starts to cool and moment by moment, its flavor gets diminished. The joy and pleasure is fleeting. And it is my intention and attention alone that keeps me centered in the here and now and not in autopilot. The warm flavor recedes like the rip current that calls waves back into the sea. I can still feel the faint warmth of my coffee mug cupped gently in my hands. I do not want to squander one bit of this temporary reprieve of the hustle and bustle of what we call modern life.
The Deciduous Tree
The deciduous tree does not appear as it once stood just one month ago. Its outstretched arms are glowing against the backdrop of the deep blue sky. Splotchy green with yellow or browned edges. Yet the mighty maple is just the sum of its many tiny parts. The branch reaches toward the sky on its solid trunk. A resting place for tiny buds that blossomed and burst into a big bold green. Seeds descended and dispersed. And now we get to see the leaves’ true colors. The deciduous tree does not get to choose when it’s time to blossom or seed. It is synched to the rhythm of nature beyond our concept of time. The seasons connect me and ground me in a world that always seems to be spinning faster and faster, Almost off-kilter Off balance. As the cycle of the season begins I’m suddenly reminded of the color, the beauty, the cycles of nature that surround me. Always there. A constant reminder that I, too, am a child of nature and connected to the timeless rhythms that surround me.
Candlelight
The autumn sky grows darker each passing night. The sun takes her time enjoying a late slumber. She knows when it’s time to rest and time to play. Candles warm the senses like a warm mug of herbal tea. Artificial light could never equal its warm amber glow. I marvel at the flame, how it flicks on the wick. A quiet solitary dance atop my candle. And when I blow out the flame, I make a small wish: To live another day. To appreciate the day’s gifts. To remember my intention And breathe in the lessons. There’s a small trail of smoke that lingers above a red yet fading wick. Remnants of what was once there. The wax erodes in tandem with the passing of time. And I am aglow inside and out.
Five ways of looking at the breath
1. Deep, slow rhythmic pace It grounds me. It takes me out of my thinking mind and I embody the present moment and smile. 2. A sense of control I can hold my breath. I can lengthen my exhales more than my inhales. I can whistle. I can sigh. I can sing and even make myself yawn. 3. Tight and constrictive In those moments of anxiety or hurt, my breath is shallow and tight like a sharp pain in my chest. When I try to take a deep breath, I feel my chest constrict and tighten like a sob about to break free. 4. Connection All living beings on this planet breathe be it with lungs or gills. We all enter this world and take our first breath. We laugh and cry together. We can chant OM. We can sing a melodic tune. 5. Conduit to peace When I remember that I can control my breath, I create the optimal route to peace with just one breath. I could argue with my words or ruminate an imagined reply in my mind. Or I can breathe and let it be.
Let the past be the past
The past is the past thankfully and sorrowfully so. We have today's gifts and connections, conversations and hearts to grow. Let go of yesterday's hurts. They cannot touch you here. No matter their lull, their yearning, their harsh or loving memory. Let's make new ones today so that our wells may overflow with a life well-loved and well-lived. Let the past be the past. It cannot touch me here in the now. I know this, yet sometimes need a reminder While ruminating and caught in a memory. To snap back to reality. To be nostalgic is okay. Let's make today a great day.
Despite the rain, the sun still rises
Despite the rain, the sun still rises. It was my birthday 6:30 in the morning and as dark as night. The pattering of rain against my window began during my slumber. I looked up at the sky and knew that despite the rain, the sun will still rise and that warmed my heart. My special day wouldn't be ruined from the dark from the large puddles that collected in my driveway. In the quiet of morning, I saw mourning doves perched on the electric wire. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to shelter. Just one with the rain with the elements and they were all okay despite the rain. The sun still rises Even if I can't be greeted by its warm red and orange rays. As the day progressed, the dark sky did brighten to a white marble gray sky. The sun was still there If I just remembered. Despite the rain I went out to celebrate with my husband. at our favorite place for breakfast and each bite was a true delight. I marveled at where we were in this place and time. How I got here on this special day. The wisdom, the experience, the love, the awe, the pain, the lessons And I, too, was okay Despite the rain.
Layers
When I discover my true self revealed naked without a mask without culturally accepted clothing that clings to my curves extenuates my breasts and exposes my arms or legs, I am free from what binds me. Although society will try to make me feel foolish embarrassed to even look upon my naked body in the mirror. The glass is never a true reflection but a juxtaposition. Whoever sees their true reflection except those reflected back in the eyes of another? My lover’s desire My culture’s shame How do I let it go to accept me as he does naked and true to himself? Why do I have all these layers to shed before my true self has seen the light of day? Do I even recognize her? What’s in my mind’s eye and reflected back to me in the mirror are two very different things. Can I love the ideal me and the real me? Can I drop the story to be a certain image at all times regardless of what stage of life I happen to be in? The man does not let outside influences interrupt his burning desire to meld into one. His lust and eyes tell me I’m something more than I see. Do I exist as he sees me naked and swaying to incite his excitement? Is that the true me? Or is it the one who breathes deep sighs as the clean sheets spread out neatly tucked around my body and mind relaxes and succumbs to the much-needed rest? To recharge and feel comfort in one’s bed without interruption or distraction. To feel my bones and breath no one to interpret or criticize. It is mine and only mine to claim. In beauty, in rest, in wholeness fully alive. I can be here for just a moment. A night under the moon. She and I are one and dancing with the stars not ashamed of who we are but embodying our true nature. When the black birds take flight in that early twilight, their beating wings do not make a mark across the darkened sky. Their beating hearts in unison as they soar across the moon only then illuminated before being swallowed back into the darkness.
Healing Insights 