Reset

Most days, the quiet I find myself craving eludes me.

My children will often ask if they can play some music while doing chores or homework or playing a game and , regardless of my answer, my gut response is constantly: NO.

I used to surround myself with music. Opera and show tunes were my jam, but really I was a genre junky; a lyric lover, I would study how words change and transform when set to melody, rhythm. But these days I find myself asking, begging, shouting, crying for more quiet. Sometimes I can’t hear myself think above the din of my kitchen table. Sometimes my thoughts are so deafening I need you to repeat what you just said. Again. Sometimes even the sounds of my childrens’ laughter is enough to grate my nerves… this is when I know I need to self assess. Because I am losing myself in this sea of perpetual, unrelenting sound.

Phone calls. Conversations. Siblings bickering. Dogs barking. Alarms. Timers. Internal dialogue.

All. The. Time.

Haptics and pings and Alexa announcements and advertisements and appliances… I try to reset with “Calm My Dog,” and other calming music for spa or meditation. White noise. Brown noise. Pink noise. A prayer. A meditation. A mantra. But sometimes what I really need is one, intentional tone to reset everything, one singular strike of a singing bowl or tuning fork whose frequency fractals rectify the physical and cellular space I occupy. No words. Just sound, working it’s vibrational magic into the fiber of my being so that I can make sense of the constant signal input I am bombarded with daily, the cacophony of life, and find myself again.

In this new year, and each new day, may we be mindful of the invitations to reset. And when we can not hear them over the raucous pandemonium of the day to day, may we be willing to be invitation initiators, disrupting the chaos with a single note of clarity, and ushering in the peace necessary to sustain vibrant living.

Held

You are held, beloved.

As I looked out on these slender pines swaying wildly in the gusts of an oncoming storm, I watched as birds began to take refuge in the crooks of their limbs. It never occurred to me that this would be a place of safety when foul weather flared, and yet this was they very place one might find nests with delicate eggs and fragile fledglings. I pondered how very much I felt like a nest, vulnerable to capricious currents beyond my control.

I was struck how the swaying, the shaking, the volatility of it all didn’t bother the birds; they were used to the unpredictable air currents which carried them daily. What they sought was this: that in the midst of the chaos, they would not fall. Despite the flailing peripheral, the roots held firmly both bird and tree. What followed was the realization that, despite circumstantial or emotional tumult, sun or storm, I am held by a force greater than myself, much like a bird’s nest nestled in a tree bough.

Even when life threatens to shake you to your very core, beloved, you are held.

Feeling small, scared to fall
I’m afraid I might
Fall apart in the dark
You said I’ll be alright
In the heights, in the nights
You hold me just the same
I am just a nest in your branches However life goes, how the wind blows
No, I won’t be shaken

An excerpt from “Just A Nest”

A Love Offering

We can all use a little help from time to time. Whether we need a gentle nudge to get started, a reminder to stay focused, or motivation to see something through to the end… sometimes it’s those little acts of encouragement that help us to begin, keep going, or finish well.

That’s why I created the The Practice of Prayer & Meditation With Your Mala workbook. Maybe you are drawn to a Mala but don’t know how to use it, or where it comes from. Maybe you are like me and, in the midst of life’s distractions, need the constant invitation to begin again in your prayer and mediation practice. Wherever you find yourself on the journey, this workbook was created with you in mind, a love offering to celebrate you, right where you are, and to honor where you are going. Enjoy, dear one, and journey well.

A Matter of the Heart

Unconditional love, compassion, and healing… these are some of the properties rose quartz is considered to possess. With varying pink and lavender hues, it is also known as “The Heart Stone” and “The Bohemian Ruby,” and is often associated with the heart chakra. It has been used for centuries for its perceived medicinal and beautifying qualities. Even today, you can pick up a rose quartz roller at your local chemist for your facial cleansing routine to increase circulation and aid in lymphatic drainage. But can rose quartz really live up to all these expectations?

Whether science can or ever will prove these to be legitimate claims, I choose to believe there is goodness to be found in all of creation, which was born out of the heart of love. I can always, always use more love in my life. I need love to be fully present and to whole-heartedly embrace life’s joys. I need love to survive the hardships of suffering, and the monotony of the daily grind. I need more love to help me clean the kitchen, again. To apologize, again. To love my neighbor. My partner. My children. Myself. Again, and again.

Rose quartz is a tangible reminder that love abounds, and that I can be empowered with that same gift of love. Whether the crystal sits on my home altar, lies under my pillow, or is found in the Mala I’m using for prayer and meditation (“Love” and “Mother” both feature rose quartz in their anatomy), I benefit from the stone’s properties, including unconditional love. Regardless of whether these benefits are real or perceived, an intention set on love can make a very real impact in my heart, mind, and life.

May your heart, dear one, be overflowing with joy-inducing, life-giving love. And if you need a little hands-on help, may rose quartz be a blessing to lead you there.

Begin Again

Now is the perfect moment to begin again.

After a series of injuries and health set backs, I finally unfurled my yoga mat. I kept moving it around my house to encourage me to take up a once vibrant practice, but what came was avoidance. Years of it.

My body wasn’t the same. My heart wasn’t the same. My mind wasn’t the same. My motive wasn’t the same. And all these things culminated in the grief of all that had been lost to me. My mat was a reminder of who I wasn’t, so I avoided it.

But avoiding grief of who I wasn’t sealed off the threshold to welcome who I was becoming.

By giving myself permission to begin again, right where I am, I dispelled the lies of needing to “become good enough” to start. I simply started. Because I already am good. And I already am enough. And though the start is slow and clumsy, there is grace when learning new things. And becoming a new person. And beginning again. And again. Always.