The Workday

What is it about the workday that appears to dull my sense of awareness—awareness of Self, spirit, others, life…? What is it about this lifestyle that produces fatigue, unconsciousness, a restrictiveness rather than space…?

 

For 16 years I was a homemaker. In this space, I lived in my own rhythms—doing what needed to be done for home and family—and what I wanted to do. And then I moved in to the work place. Mostly I liked my work, but soon I discovered what I didn’t like— the lifestyle the workday created. That routine of getting up earlier than I would following my own rhythms. The requirement to be in a fixed location for a certain number of hours. Then, home to homemake—cook dinner, pick up around the house… By the end of the day all I wanted (and still want) to do is stare at a screen showing a good movie while eating something sugary.

I work at a school and this week we are on spring break. Upon the first day I feel how lovely it is to experience myself (again) without the workday routine. I feel myself filled with a bit more space—becoming more present to my natural rhythms. Not being in a fixed location, adhering to a time frame I move about in accordance to that rhythm.

I notice variety, similar to the weather we had—tornadoes in the southwest and where I live watching a sunset in the west and dark skies in the east producing lightening and rainbows. Then, followed by snow showers at night. My day was filled with moments of self-expression, creativity, errands, homemaking, connection with my kids and husband and downtime to just stare at that sky and write in my journal. None of this variety breaks through the dullness and fatigue I feel during the workday week.

When Monday, April 7 comes and the 5:45 alarm wakes me from a sound sleep and I enter the workday rhythm I have some options.

Option One: Resume the familiar routine becoming unconscious and dull = no change.

Option Two: Tell myself how I am going to stay conscious within this routine = no change.

Option Three: Intend to create a new way to make a living which matches my natural rhythms = potential change.

Option Four: Accept the unconsciousness which occurs in a routine— not making it bad or wrong or unworthy of my life. It just is. Discover the value in a routine and create variety on the outskirts of this routine and be pleasantly surprised how that variety bleeds in to the routine = transformation.

Our minds tend to create separation. In this case my mind separates the workday lifestyle from the non-workday lifestyle. Often from here the mind judges one as bad and one as good. Then time is spend using mental energy fighting the bad one.

I don’t know what option I will live from as I return to the workday life— or if I will find a new option entirely. But here is what I do know— in this workday break I find again what matters, what makes me alive and balanced. Writing. Hearing the seagulls screech in circles while the sun sets. Giving my husband a neck massage after a long work day. Reading. Listening. Being. Creating. My kids. Puttering around the house as if I have nothing else in the world to do—because I don’t.

Happy Spring,

The Soul Reporter

The End is Near.

There is still snow on the ground and it’s the end of March. The sun is out more often and I just learned a new fact, which explains why it doesn’t feel warmer.  When there is snow on the ground, its energy is used not to warm, but to melt the snow.  Add to this fact, the layers of ice and snow on the ground making it feel cold.

snow

I sit on a bench near a pond watching a pair of geese resting upon the still frozen pond. Aren’t they cold? Are they awaiting like me for the ice to melt? 

This winter seems to reflect my life. Long, cold, dark and difficult. The transition from winter to spring this year reflects my life also—leaving me with the fear that these dark and difficult days have no end.

We had a few warm days late winter. Then we were pulled back into winter’s harsh conditions. Here we experienced unseasonably cold days even while the Solstice arrived upon the calendar—staying cold for a week or two after its arrival.

This week we have experienced warmer days while also being warned by meteorologists that another cold blast is on its way. If I were to take reality for what I see and experience right now, which I have grown accustomed to doing during these dark days, allowing myself to accept what is and finding reality more substantial than fantasy, then I would  wonder will spring ever spring or will it be winter forever?

I moved back home to Minnesota in December after spending two-and-a-half years in California. If I were not from Minnesota I would aasume winter is all it has to offer.

SONY DSC

 

But I know spring arrives and she does so when she’s ready. On her own time. Not to scorn us, which is what we might believe the way some of us complain about the weather. She does so by her wisdom. Her way. Her truth. The only way she knows.

But even while I say this, some days the best I can do is muster up the strength to only consider that somehow someway new life is inching its way toward me. Some days it is so hard to believe that underneath the ice and snow is a powerful force rumbling. The geese know it as they sit in the slightly frozen pond. The chickadees know it along with all the other birds whose songs spring forth during this time. And in some moments I can take this knowing and apply it me like a salve, reminding me I too am of nature and I follow its rhythms.

Although its been dark and cold and this is all I have felt, and could see there is a power rumbling in me. A power that will melt the ice and the snow. She’s spring birthing new life—and she is in me and in you.

The Soul Reporter

 

 

 

 

Stiff Like Winter.

A Short Spiritual Memoir: Gradual Growth & Awakening ~

photo

 

I feel stiff like winter.

I long to thaw like spring—and

See what transpired in darkness and struggle.

 

My life has felt harsh and ugly for so long, like those last days of winter when the snow is gray and the sky matches, and you have had enough of those bitter winds biting your bones. I don’t want this anymore. I want kind and beautiful. I find it again on a short walk. The day is as my daughter describes it: she will not sweat and and she will not freeze. It is a day of transition from winter to spring—a glimpse of what is to come.

As I walk I ask for more of myself to be revealed. I stop and look through the bare tree to the sun peeking through the gray. The song of birds remind me I am back. I needed to come back—home to Minnesota where I experience these transitions from winter to spring and later, summer to fall.

I know I have been through something awesome and difficult, and feel like everything will be alright now—at least for awhile. The end of an era, and it makes me cry. The tears thaw my stiffness and shed my heaviness, and prepare me for the warmth which is to come.

Thank God for this transition of tears. Sudden joy and elation might startle me otherwise. It is these days of transition: 32 degrees. Sun shining hazily through the gray, which make life of deeper meaning and connection possible and compatible with our ever-evolving soul.

As I end my walk, a woman approaches me and asks, “How’s the path?”

“It’s fine,” I tell her.

 

The Soul Reporter

 

 

Clipping Ourselves Bare

Today I am sharing another Soul Glimpse. Each day, subscribers receive posts such as this, in their inbox. If you would like to receive a daily nudge to inspire deeper living, click here, and subscribe: Daily Soul Glimpse.

I once lived by an avid gardener.

One year, I watched as she clipped her lilac bush down to almost a bare nub. Why would she do this, I wondered?

Well, if you are a gardener, you might know. The next house, I moved, there was a lilac bush. I was thrilled because when I was a little girl, I had one in my backyard, and it is one of my favorite scents.

When I was older, my mother and I would find an area in the spring, where we felt we were stealing, as we cut the blooms and took them home. But, the lilac bush I now had, and could pick from freely, was quite barren. Maybe a few flowers here and there.

I remembered my gardening neighbor, and her advice to invite an abundance of bloom, but I never had the courage to cut off what little bit of lilac I had, and so each year as I hoped for more, I still only received a few.

Where I live now there is a row of what might be lilac trees (or whatever is native to California). Last fall, they clipped the tree branches bare. Again, why would they do this? I bet those beautiful flowers won’t come back, I worried.

Today, I walked by that row of trees, and as you see in the picture above, there are sprouts of green.

Oh, the faith of the gardener. And oh, the promise of nature.

Today, I did a bit of clipping myself- wardrobe clipping that is. I got rid of some clothes that either no longer fit or I no longer felt pretty in. I did this knowing, I’ve little money to replace them just yet. I clipped my wardrobe almost bare anyway, just like those trees. And the lilac bushes.

Do we have the courage to clip ourselves bare? To take our lives, ourselves to a place where it looks as though we might not ever return? Are we willing to remove what we know to be sprouts of beautiful potential, and have faith and knowing, when the time is just right, blossoming will begin again?

Perhaps this is not necessary for all of us, but I have found in my own life, it is the only way to experience the great promise of abundance yet again.

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Namaste,

The Soul Reporter