There’s a place in the process where meaning meets meaning-free. Seeking and declaring meaning is our nature – and so very good sometimes. Except when it’s not. Sometimes the desire and seeking for meaning can weigh us down in the telling and feelings of old stories, spinning in circles with an old lens or idealized filter for identifying, polishing, compartmentalizing, purpose-sizing.
I am generally less interested in fixed meanings and methods, and more satiated by what is simply felt and organic in the passing of time and relationships. Lately, this looks like less books, less workshops, less stuff, less groups and chatter and projects and distractions and proving… less thinking about it all, less posturing based on external criteria or fear. Less noise, more listening. Less answers, more room to breathe. Less words, more breath… more song.
Declaring my own curiosity Enough-in-itself, I am practicing comfort-expansion with the mystery of my own affinities and joy.
Freedom of spirit is within us, in what we love this moment, this year, this lifetime. The little things. The simple moments. The ones so prevalent we often overlook them in the midst of our daily grind or distractions, or while searching for ‘right fit,’ clever originality and the coveted strike of inspiration or a-ha moments.
There’s a sweetspot for each of us – not a moment to be had, or a place to reach. A space in us, rich with meaning beyond conventional reckonings. Where we let ourselves love what we love for no reason but the love itself, and we let that guide us, wholly, on the current of our soul beckoning.
Lately, there has been a lightness in my creative practice and body, from peeling away other notions or intentions, and simply asking and telling myself this:
What do you Love in this life? Just go there, be with the mystery of your love growing.
Let it be so simple.
One answer: I love birds. Always have. They soften me, pause me, quiet me from the inside out and raise my own curious energy of joy… messengers of spirit.
I reached toward unbound prayer pages recently, and a different pen, palette and brush… and found fresh freedom in wings.
Put a bird on it? I think I will.
A bird sitting on a tree
is never afraid of the branch breaking
because her trust is not on the branch
but on her own wings.