Driving up to my friend's Sunday morning retreat held on her beautiful farm, I had several expectations.
I expected to meet new spiritually minded friends. (Check.)
I expected the skillful host to lead us through insightful and impowering inquiries. (Check.)
I expected to enjoy the fresh country air and powerful demonstrations with her animals. (Check.)
I did NOT expect to receive a personal message while meditating with the group at the edge of her wetlands area. (Whaaaat?)
Here's what happened...
My friend, a trained environmental scientist, led our group to the small wetlands area and explained it's varied purposes in nature. After a brief instruction, she invited us to sit and meditate.
The scene was beautiful, serene and felt sacred.
As I sat, connected to the wetlands and the earth, I could hear the trees sway in the breeze, the hum of a bee several yards away and birds singing to each other.
It was pure bliss.
As I felt myself sink deeper into a meditative...
I was on the phone yesterday with a dear friend. As we discussed recent world events, she wondered out loud, “Where can I move that would be safe, protected from this chaos?”
We both immediately knew the answer.
“Within where?” you might ask. One of the Scandinavian countries? Australia, New Zealand? Somewhere in the Caribbean?
The safest place for you, me, and everyone we love is much closer than that: within the wisdom of our own heart.
Your best guidance forward, the way to navigate the world events and help consciously evolve our communities, countries and the world will not be found within current government structures. Or in rhetoric created to induce fear. It is always available within the quiet space of your own heart, however.
How do you access it, the wisdom of your inner divine heart? Meditation and spending time in nature are excellent options and here are three more:
Life constantly provides beautiful lessons…you just need to pay attention. That’s what happened for me just a few days ago.
On the way to my weekly visit with my four-year-old grandson, Emory, I had noticed a slight tug as I sat down in the driver’s seat of my car. I realized I’d stepped through a spider web as I opened my door.
“Sorry, buddy!” I said out loud as I started the car and drove away.
Driving happily along a busy two-lane road at 55mph, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something moving outside my left window. I glanced quickly to see a large brown spider with yellow striped legs clinging to what was left of his web, connected to my side mirror and vigorously flapping in the wind beside me.
And instantly felt ridiculous.
Here was this tiny spider, tiny compared to me, outside my closed window struggling to stay connected to a thread in what must have felt like hurricane winds. What was I afraid of?
And yet my first...