Miracle in The Laundry

The other day, I had a great lesson in honoring my soul wisdom. The babysitter had just arrived, and I was rushing around, already late for my yoga class, a rare treat for this mom.

Suddenly a voice within seemed to say, “Just pop in another load of laundry.”

“What?” my mind shrilled. “Are you crazy? You’re already late! What are you thinking!” (My mind tends to be rather dramatic.)

Luckily, I honored the calm voice instead of the scolding “shoulds” of my mind.

As I completed loading the dryer (feeling unusually peacefully as I did, in fact), I was greeted at the back door by the babysitter. My son had fallen while outside and needed some first aid. I was glad I was there to help.

Had I not listened to my soul, I would have been out the door a few minutes before, missing this opportunity to offer comfort and care.

After I did what was needed, I suddenly looked at the clock and realized I had missed my yoga class.

“Go for a walk,” the same peaceful voice from before whispered softly.

It was a beautiful day, and going out in the sunshine felt just right.

As I was walking, I received new inspiration for a creative project I was working on. When I arrived home, I was happy for the childcare coverage so I could spend time on the computer, capturing my new ideas.

One thing led to the next, and before I knew it, my day had shifted from one that felt busy to one that felt divinely orchestrated, one miraculous moment after the next.

Whenever I think I know exactly what the “plan” is, I am continually reminded that there is another, more wonderful way. All we have to do to discover it is listen to the divine wisdom within.

The Red Leaf

At first glance, I thought it was a bright red bird. Then I realized as it fluttered, first one way then the next, it was nothing more than a crumbling old brown sycamore leaf--the kind I crunch over on my deck and tell myself, “I really have to sweep these up.”

In a rare moment of relaxation, I was leaning back instead of thinking of all the worried thoughts that usually keep me so busy and distracted. In a rare moment of receptiveness, I had opened my eyes to see.

Once I saw the leaf and realized my mistake, I started watching differently. How could it be that something that usually seemed so ugly to me could actually be so beautiful?

I watched the leaf on its journey. First it fluttered left. Then right. Its fall from above was so gentle it reminded me of a parachuter taking his time.

I started listening differently too. I heard things I hadn’t before. Like a big fish for instance, breaking above the surface. The call of a distant bird and the response of another. The rumble of a truck crossing the highway bridge a few miles away.

The more I looked and listened in this new way, the more I realized this must be how our 14-month-old son Devin experiences life. Magical. Full of surprises. Not littered with leaves to be swept but instead with mysteries to discover.

Devin tells me about his view of the world in his simplistic way (“car, car” with a pointing finger) and I realize that yes, indeed, a car has passed on a distant road. Sometimes he sings in perfect harmony, mimicking the tone of a bird, a laughing child or a tune on the radio. Even without the means to communicate like you or I, he tells me what he hears.

When moments of clarity break through the clutter of our lives, it’s as if life stops and slows down for a moment. I feel as if I have awakened from a deep sleep and become alive once more.

The beauty is that this experience is available to us all in every moment, no matter how long it's been since we’ve been in our real-world slumber. Even when I’ve been immune to the stories and magic happening all around me for some time, I am continually reassured to learn the magic has been happening anyway. Regardless of whether I've been there for the show.

The good news is no matter how complacent or tired or rote our lives become, all we have to do to rejoin the cacophony of goodness is open our ears and eyes, listen and see. Now.

Unloading Baggage

Today, I unloaded the books lining the shelves of a big bookcase in our home. I had purchased it when I started my public relations business back in 1995.

Now, ten years later, its heavy lines feel imprinted with expectations of the past. Big business. Heavy deadlines. The weight of the world.

The bookcase has stood in the room where, lately, I have been doing my writing. Every time I look at it, for some reason I'm not sure of, my energy drops.

There must be better things to look at. Aesthetic issues aside, however, my practical side bargains to keep it—it still works, it matches our décor, it holds a lot of books. Yet its usefulness to my spirit ran out long ago.

Just as I am ready to let go of this—a simple object, or so it seems, seemingly unrelated to the rest of my life—I am also ready to go of other things, deeper things, as real to my soul as this bookcase is to my physical self.

As I symbolically haul this heavy piece of furniture to the curb to load into the vehicle of someone for whom it is more than practical, I think how related and inextricable the clutter of our homes and the baggage of our lives can be.

Things like big bookcases, old habits, holding, fear and following what makes sense over what works well for our truest selves—all of these can be very easy to let go of. Once we begin, we realize we don’t really need to hold on so tight.

As we release and let go, we understand how delicious it can be to fly light. As I look at the big blank wall now before me, in spite of the piles of books cluttering the floor and the questions--where will I now put all this stuff?--I see the beauty of open expectations and the unknown looking back at me.

Sometimes all it takes is an act of courage, a leap of faith and what seems like an irrational decision to the outside world to be able to feel like, once more, we can truly see.

Beginning Anew

It’s hard to believe it’s September. Already. Here we are smack-dab in the middle of the month and it’s just dawning on me that fall is upon us. Kids are back in school. New routines are not just starting, but in full swing.

I am relieved. The summer has been full, fun, busy, and boy, am I ready for routine again--routine and beginning again.

Maybe it’s all those years of being a student, but every fall, I feel a little quiver of excitement. Readiness. Enthusiasm. It’s like the hot humidity rolls away and the crisp air of autumn fills me with a new energy. Invigoration. Newness. Readiness to let go and begin again.

Maybe that’s the inspiration that fed my desire to teach a new class this fall on just that—using meditation to clear one’s own energy—inward and outward—and set into motion what is most ready to unfold. (Check out www.mandalayogameditation.com for more info.)

Sometimes I think we need to do that—mindfully partner with the design of the universe and let the winds of what’s working “out there” work in our own lives too.

As leaves prepare to die and fall from limbs of trees, I am preparing to let go of old blocks in my own universe, old habits, holding and hardness to make way for the softer new.

As there is movement in the air beckoning the heat of summer to soon fade away for another climate—a breath of crisp air--so too am I getting ready to expand my lungs and drink more fully in what life has to offer.

As the nights are growing longer, my inner light seems to be getting ready to burn brighter to shine the way. To shine the way to where, I’m not sure. But I feel the currents of change moving—not just “out there,” but through my very soul.