Sitting, Settling

The Grandmothers of my night dreams, old women rapped in wool shawls and bright blankets, their black eyes gleaming in the firelight, never use long sentences where three words will do.

Lately, it’s been, “Sit and settle.”

I think of Lao Tzu’s admonishment to be still and let our mud settle, consider what we should or should not “settle” for, remember how I did not fight for a fair settlement when divorce was desired. I wonder about settlers and settlements, ideas of staying put, settling down, settling in for a long and unavoidable wait. . . . 

I turn back to the Grandmothers full of questions.

One of the oldest speaks before I make a sound. “Oriah.” I turn to her and she speaks slowly as if to someone hard of hearing. I hear the sigh behind her words and see her small smile. 

“Sit and settle.”  ~Oriah (from a dream last night)

Another beautiful sunrise photo from Karen Davis at Open Door Dreaming.

Being Home

Sitting at home reading, I paused to stretch for a moment and thought, "Ah, it's good to be back home." The thought startled me because, well- because I haven't travelled anywhere. And clearer than the thought was the feeling- that feeling you get after a long trip. No matter how well the trip has gone there is a lovely letting go when you return home and sink into the scent of familiar rooms, notice the way the late afternoon light brings out the dark wood grain of the tabletop, the way your bed feels warm and welcoming.

I'm curious about this feeling- why it arises now, in what way I have perhaps wandered from my "home" - inner or outer. If you've read any of my writing you know that I have faith in our deepest longing. And perhaps all soul longing could be described as wanting to go home- to ourselves; to a sense of belonging; to knowing our own belovedness and feeling the presence of the Beloved that never ceases to reach for us.

I don't know what made this feeling arise when it did, but I do know that we don't earn our homecoming- it is a gift, grace, unearned and unconditional. For reasons I do not understand, in that moment, as I set my book aside and sat quietly I became available to something that is possibly always there. And for this, I am deeply grateful. ~Oriah

The wonderful photos of Karen Davis at Open Door Dreaming always remind me that this earth is my home.

Bearing The Unbearable

My dear friend, Peter, who recently lost his wife, Diana (also a friend,) sent me this quote. It takes my breath away with its honesty about the hardest moments in a human life:"To have finally dealt with suffering is to consume it into yourself. Which means you have to, with eyes open, be able to keep your heart open in hell. You have to look at what is, and say 'Yeah, Right.' And what it involves is bearing the unbearable. And in a way, who you *think* you are can’t do it. Who you *really* are, can do it. So that who you think you are has to die in the process.~ Ram Dass

For myself, in the worst moments my only hope of doing this comes when I can be very still and drop into a sense of being held by a Sacred Presence that is larger than and yet within all that is. My willingness to even try is encouraged by the incredible resilience I have seen in others who have borne the loss of children and partners, and severe pain in body and mind. My prayers in those moments are simple- are, for myself and others, "Help," and, "Thank you." ~Oriah

Deep gratitude for this photo of a thawing lake from Karen Davis from Open Door Dreaming. It reminded me of what happens when part of the body that has frostbite (for me growing up in Northern Ontario, part of my face, and once, a few toes) thaws. It can be a painful as feeling returns, but the sensation is what lets you know it will be okay