On becoming friends with my breath

Along with the tears, there is the breath. I have been thinking about the breath since yesterday, writing about the diver in murky waters. I have been thinking about diving again, after many many years. But that is also another story.

For the first time in my life, I am really making friends with my breath. I had asthma as a young child, and have horrible memories of lying in bed through the night, listening to my own wheezing, my whole body filled with fear. Hearing my own laboured breath has always been something that has evoked panic in me. For many years, I have never been able to go anywhere without an inhaler in my bag, having them stashed in places all around my house and in my car.

Since coming to Oman, this has all changed gradually. I found the best asthma doctor on the planet. When he met me, he said, "Stefani, you are on the Morris Minor of medications, we have to change this immediately, I'm going to give you the latest BMW model!” He gave me a groovy little purple disc thingie and that was the first step.

My geologist friends have never paid any attention to my fears and encouraged me to do as much as I can when I am with them. How wonderful to be with people who had no judgement, which led me to cancel all the judgements on myself. Gradually I learnt not to fear my breath racing, but rather to experience it as a sign of my own life force, to trust it as a flame burning deep inside.

And so I started walking more; and then with the loved one coaxing me out onto the corniche here by the sea. He has also encouraged me to walk in the mountains, giving me the special Christmas gifts of walking boots and walking poles. I am so happy to say that the sight of a hill in front of me doesn't scare the living daylights out of me anymore! My housemate from heaven has also encouraged me greatly, and the 3 of us have had some wonderful unforgettable wadi experiences together. I used to labour across rocks and stones, and now I am learning to actually enjoy the challenge: the mountain goat- Capricorn- in me is coming into her own!

 Now the three of us are doing yoga together, and my breath keeps expanding and increasing. I am growing closer to my own life force than ever before. I have always known that this is the spark in me that connects me most directly to my Creator, and now I am really experiencing that so intimately. I am so grateful for this natural instinct of breathing that I do not take for granted, which I am learning to cherish and to nurture.

And now, when I am alone with my breath in the dark, she is a comfort to me.

I wonder what it is that comforts you in the night?

On seeds long buried

The loved one and I have this thing, "Even when we are not happy, we are happy". It is hard to be happy in the midst of this present haze, and I am shedding many tears, but they feel like good wholesome tears, tears of catharsis, tears that are like penetrating drops of cleansing rain, washing the windows of my soul. They come suddenly, silently, at all times of day and night, sometimes with a deep sadness and sharp little piercing aches of the heart. Old hurts healing and a lot of letting go, letting go, letting go.... every day, letting go. 

I am not putting any judgement on them, just tasting them as they come and blessing the process and knowing that they fall on seeds long buried deep, seeds that now need to germinate and peek their teeny green shoots out of the earth that is my life. I know this is happening because I am ready. But what it is, that is happening, that is still a mystery. I am waiting patiently; holding the faith, hope and love close to my heart.

Wishing you too sense those long buried dreams, longing to come to fruition. And embrace this beautiful fragile mystery which is life.

stepping stones and stillness

Since last week the vertigo is on me, or in me, or over me, and the world is whirling in slow motion around me. I looked Louise Hays', "You Can Heal Your Life", the one I could not get away from when I was growing up. My crazy healer mother always had some annoying observation to make: Sore throat, "So what are you not saying, my Blom, spit it out!" Sore tummy, "So what happened at school that you cannot digest, come on, tell!". Other mothers went to the chemist. My mother went to the famous little blue book ( which I have inherited of course) and then left me to my own devices. She didn't know what to do when I was sick. Mostly sent me around the neighbour's house for Wendy, my mother number 2, to do something practical. Getting ill to get attention certainly wasn't a tactic that worked in our household.

 So, the book says 'Flighty scattered thinking. A refusal to look'. So this is what I am asking myself. What am I not looking at?

I feel like a diver in murky waters, just my own breathing for company. I wake up in the night, turning in my sleep, feeling I am going to fall out of bed, my heart fluttering in my chest. I am wandering aimlessly  through misty woods, the undergrowth crunching under my feet, the fingers of fog damp on my cheeks, I feel chilled and unable to focus.

I suddenly remembered a time like this many years ago, on a visit to Ireland. It was a magical visit, a pivotal time in my life, and I experienced some extreme dejavu, but that is another story.

A magician of sorts crossed my path and encouraged me to be be still for a while and get out of my head into my heart. He led me on a visual journey and I found a place inside that I still I go when I am anxious. I had forgotten about that place till just a few days ago, and it is like reconnecting with an old friend. I am crossing a vast wide river using stepping stones. The torrents are quite fast and the water very clear, round slippery pebbles on the bottom, always varying depths. I can't see the other side, and sometimes the next stepping stone is not visible to me.

This means, instead of panic, it is time to be still, sit down on the rock, stick my toes in, listen to the gurgling, gentle churning, of the water and come back to myself. One thing is sure, always sure, the next stepping stone will reveal itself.
This is where I am now, sitting on the rock in the middle of the river, just waiting and being and knowing that the path will be shown to me.

And also thinking about another old friend, TS Eliot, this from his Four Quartets:

I said to my soul, be still,
and wait without hope, for hope would be hope for the wrong thing;
wait without love, for love would be love for the wrong thing,
there is yet faith-
But the faith abd the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought,
for you are not ready for thought;
So the darkness shall be light, and the stillness the dancing.

Amen.

Wishing you stillness today, and dancing.

The sculptor

A man asked Buddha, "I want Happiness."
Buddha said, first remove "I", that's ego,
then remove "want", that's desire.
See now you are left with only Happiness.

My body is telling me to slow down, I woke up yesterday with dizziness, feeling very strange. I spent the day at home very gently doing a few things that have been on the list for a long time. It was satisfying. Work has been very busy. I have taken on some extra responsibility which I enjoy, but I have to get used to that again. I am not one to take on any task half-heartedly.

Yesterday I came across a few photographs from 3 years ago. I am so happy to be  an intimate witness to  constant changes in my body, mind and soul. I really feel my wings that were clipped, are growing again and my soul that I had allowed to shrink, expanding into its true hues. Sometimes at night I have the feeling that it is rising free and soaring up, exploring the colors and music of space. 

 My physical being that was padded from the pain of the past, is showing its true self like the statue or carving reveals itself from the marble or wood from which it is being fashioned.

The small teeny tiny baby steps are leading me down a beautiful path, and I am so enjoying this journey. 

My soulsista Junaline posted recently,

'When the universe calls you to make a change, pay attention'.

So, my friends, pay attention, every breath and every blink is a soft embrace of Light, a reminder that we are in this world to be happy. Just do happiness today. And eat chocolate.

A soft and sturdy home

Having loved enough and lost enough,

I'm no longer searching,

 just opening,

 no longer trying to make sense of pain,

 but trying to be a soft and sturdy home in which real things can land.

 

 ~ Mark Nepo

 

 

My soul's words

My usually  completely crazy, unstoppable, little one-eared kitty Rufus, is purring so loudly and contentedly on my lap, that I dare not disturb him to move to my bed, so first a few words to bid you good night.

I had a busy busy day, even had a little bit of vertigo which is usually a sign that I am moving too fast. But it was a good day. I sensed the pastel watercolors and fine spidersilk-like connections  between things; my fellow humans smiled at me with their eyes. I looked in the mirror and smiled back.

 My loved one took me to a delicious dinner of crispy duck pancakes. I dared to wear a soft black swishy dress above the knee in this Muslim country and it felt fine. We didn't speak much and the silence was so comfortable, like the open fragrant plains of my mother's land.

And when I got home, my soul said, 'I am so in love, and love is so in me'.

On pink porridge and peace

I usually wake up at around 6.30 and lie in my black four-poster bed luxuriating for another few minutes before getting up to light my candle and incense, make my fabulous psyllium berry shake and coffee and let the shower water wash the night off me. In these minutes I say my prayers for the day and generally shake off the morning fear that has always been part of me.
This morning I took a little peek through the curtains and saw two older Omani ladies walking by, dressed in their colorful dresses with sparkly leggings. The one was carrying a large bag of greenery on her head, obviously the breakfast for her goats. Somehow this was such a comforting sight, these two friends going by their normal daily routine, chattering, just being in the moment.
I also wore a colorful dress today and carried the peace on those womens' faces into my class with me. The class, my stage and my sanctuary.
I started the Saturday at an easy pace for the students and in the break went to stand in front of the sea.
There were so many gulls just floating on the sea, bobbing up and down on the gentle undulations of the waves.
For a moment I felt one of them, just doing what they do, just resting in their natural state, no future, no past, no worries, no creeping morning doubts. The light reflected off the water and my heart was flushed with joy.
I remembered a recent morning, a similar feeling, a moment of utter contentment in which time stood still. The loved one surprising me with a beautiful bowl of bright pink porridge with condensed milk. Who needs words, with gestures like that?
I could hardly wipe the smile off my face for the rest of the day, and I am sure will savour that moment in years to come.
So, I wish you all precious 'pink porridge' and 'birds drifting on water' moments, small celebrations of life's wonder.