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Snatam Kaur came to New York City last week as part of her Spirit Voyage kirtan concert series. I arrived early for the concert and waited for her to come on stage. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay for the whole show as I was teaching a shamanic workshop the following day and needed to get up early. The thoughts starting running through my head about not being able to stay for the concert, how late I would get home, and early I had to get up.
I was starting to feel really anxious and then Snatam Kaur came on stage, bowed and sang:
Oh my beloved
Kindness of the heart
Breath of life
I bow to you
And I’m coming home
And I’m coming home
I started to sing the words and couldn’t get them out because I was moved to tears. With all my anxiety, all I could hear was the beginning line of the song, “Oh my beloved.” Then as I whispered the words to the song, I heard inside my heart, “Breathe, beloved. Chant, beloved. Sing, beloved. Come home, beloved.”
As I sat, I imagined the whole room as if it were the beloved.
Recently, I visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art (MET) in New York City. Normally, I am not a big museum person as I often feel overstimulated and anxious seeing all the artwork and I don’t like big crowds. But I was missing Egypt and my partner suggested we go see the Egyptian collection. I was overwhelmed by the collection and so we decided to go to the Rooftop Garden and walk around. There were big metal structures on the Rooftop Garden. We had a lot of fun walking around and taking pictures from every angle.
At one point, I looked at the blue sky line reflecting in the windows. It was beauty reflecting back at me. I thought about various meditations about light, beauty, and reflections.
Light will guide you home. Love will welcome you in.
Love resides in you as you.
I am as perfect as you.
The light in me is a reflection of you.
I am infinite love.
The miracle of me sees the miracle of you.
In the end it is the beauty that we already are that welcomes us home.
I was recently on a 3-week spiritual travel adventure to Egypt with a small group. Upon meeting my new roommate, we started talking about books and he mentioned he had finished reading this fantastic book, Tales of a Female Nomad, by Rita Golden Gelman. He thought I would like the book since I love to travel and I was the only woman on this group trip to Egypt. Upon returning home, I purchased the book and started reading it.
After looking at the back cover, I noticed that Gelman also wrote some children’s books. I saw one of the titles, Why Can’t I Fly?, and my jaw dropped. As soon as I went home, I went to my bookcase and on the bottom shelf are three books I had as a child. My favorite one was Why Can’t I Fly? The book tells the story of birds trying to help Minnie the Monkey fly. Minnie keeps falling when she tries to fly, but she doesn’t give up. Minnie tries one more time and the birds quickly got a blanket so Minnie could land in it. An elated Minnie says, “I can fly. I can fly.”
I have had this book since 1977 and when I moved to NYC, my mom gave me my three favorite children’s books. I can’t believe that 35 years later I am reading a book by the same author. Tales of a Female Nomad is Gelman’s story of self-discovery as she travels the world with no permanent address and no possessions except those she can carry. Reading this book about courage is bringing me as much joy and enthusiasm as the children’s book did when I was little.
Unfortunately, my mom passed away in 2000 and she is probably the only person who would remember how often I read Gelman’s book and how much I loved it. It is one of my most treasured childhood memories. I am grateful that my journey to Egypt led me back to my childhood and to books that remind me to never give up.
I am grateful for Gelman’s writing and for inspiring me – for 35 years! “I can fly. I can fly.”
While I am sure many, many stories will emerge from my recent trip to Egypt, I am surprisingly at a loss for words to describe my journey. It was a trip of a lifetime and an amazing experience. Our group had a private tour of some of the most sacred temples and sites in Cairo, Luxor, and Aswan. I spent 16 days with a group that made me laugh hysterically, and allowed me to cry when I became overwhelmed with emotion.
I didn’t know until I came home how many people were thinking and praying for me before and during my trip. I hadn’t realized so many people were worried about my safety and I have never felt more loved in my life. I was scared too – at the thought of being so far away, of not seeing my partner for almost three weeks, of going to a ‘foreign’ place, of getting sick, of not fitting in with the tour group of eight men and much more.
When I arrived at JFK airport, I was nervous and excited. As I started to walk down the runway, I thought, “Turn around right now and go home. This is crazy!” I kept walking anyway. As I went to my seat, I heard inside, “Don’t sit down. Get off the plane before they close the doors.” The next thing I knew I was buckling my seat belt. I sat in my seat watching people and realized I was sitting next to a Coptic Priest. I tried to sleep, but all I heard were the screaming infants on the flight.
I arrived at the Cairo airport and was met by a Quest Travel staff member who helped me get my Visa, pick up my luggage and drove me to the Mena House Hotel. It was there I was met my friend and leader of our group, Howie. He walked me to my room and from the balcony there was a clear view of the Pyramids of Giza. The whole thing was surreal. Was I really in Egypt? Was I really looking at the Pyramids?
I loved staring at the views of the Pyramids and missed home at the same time. I kept wondering if I was crazy to go on this trip. I even thought about leaving to go back home. I started to question myself – first there was a revolution and then my flights were cancelled twice – were those signs? Deep down I felt like I was supposed to be in Egypt – even though I had no idea what the reason was. The word that came to me was “trust.”
On Wednesday afternoon the group started to arrive to the hotel (I had arrived two days earlier due to limited flights). I met my roommate, Don, that afternoon. As soon as we met each other we connected immediately. It was as if we had known each other for a long time. We had similar taste in books, music, and spirituality. I shared that I had no idea why I had come to Egypt. He had the same feeling and said he was working on “trust” and this journey would allow him to explore trust.
And there it was in front of me – my purpose for Egypt – to trust myself. I trusted myself throughout the trip and the eight men I traveled with and realized I was not visiting Egypt – Egypt was visiting me.
I am grateful for doing it afraid and trusting.
Mary Anne
Last week, two people mentioned the book, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life by Anne Lamott. I had heard of the book before, but have shied away from buying writing books. I always thought that books like this would remind me of all the things I am not doing as a writer and would only highlight my flaws. Yet within pages of picking up this book, I felt utter relief. I felt like someone was voicing exactly some of my inner feelings and beliefs.
On the second page of the introduction, Lamott writes, “One of the gifts of being a writer is that it gives you an excuse to do things, to go places and explore. Another is that writing motivates you to look closely at life, at life as it lurches by and tramps around.” I think in words. I process in writing. Most people I know process verbally and through conversation. I process with pen and paper. I process with stories and metaphors (which drives some of my friends nuts!).
Writing has saved my life – in many forms and ways. When all my emotions get stuck inside, sometimes my only outlet has been putting my thoughts on paper. I understand when Lamott says, “Throughout my childhood I believed that what I thought about was different from what other kids thought about. It was not necessarily more profound, but there was a struggle going on inside me to find some sort of creative or spiritual or aesthetic way of seeing the world and organizing it in my head.”
Lamott tells a story about a paper her brother had to write about birds and the advice her father gave him – to take it bird by bird. With so much information to process and feelings to express, I am easily overwhelmed. In my case, I have to take it breath by breath – word by word.
Why do I write? I write to make some sense out of life. I write because it fills my heart with more joy than anguish. I write because just having one person feel connected and heard and seen is the most valuable gift I know how to give. As Lamott says, “Writing and reading decrease our sense of isolation. They deepen and widen and expand our sense of life: they feed the soul.”
I fell sound asleep on the subway on my way to work. I woke up and didn’t know whether I was going to the office or I was on my way home. I looked around to take in my surroundings. I noticed that my breath was calm and soft. Even though the train was very crowded, I felt relaxed. Was my slow breathing slowing down everything else around me?
I invite you to notice your breathing. Take slower breaths and watch what happens. Notice the times throughout your day when you are having shallow breaths or are holding your breath. What thoughts are going through you when you are in that state? Breathe yourself.
When your breath slows down, perhaps everything around you will as well. In a city that never sleeps and in a 4G world, perhaps it is time to slow down and just breathe.
Every few days I log into my WordPress Blog and clean out the spam comments. It’s amazing how many spam comments come in each week. For some reason, before I clicked the “Empty Spam” button last week, I read a few of the comments. The first comment read, “The site is uninspiring. Daily life proceeds.” I started laughing and grabbed a piece of paper to jot it down. What a wonderful reminder that my site is uninspiring and daily life proceeds.
If I had read that comment two years ago, I would have felt like a failure and questioned my writing and my work. Yet when I read the comment, I thought there are times the site is uninspiring and daily life does proceed. Inspiration comes from within. I can’t inspire people; I can only notice what awakens my mind and emotions and share that with others. There may be times an idea, a poem, a story, or a workshop inspired you. Perhaps that was because something inside was feeling connected.
Do you have the patience to wait until your mud settles, and the water is clear? Can you remain unmoving until the right action arises by itself? ~Lao-tzu, Tao Te Ching
Here in the East Coast, especially the tri-state area, we are patiently waiting for Spring-like weather. The temperatures have been below normal and we have had our fair share of snow and rain! As you wait for Spring, I invite you to remember that warmth exists inside you. You are the sunshine. You are the beauty of the season. Can you feel that?
The crocus are bursting through the earth. The birds sing their beautiful songs every morning. And the month of April reveals the miracle of the season (snow showers and all!). What are you waiting for? Perhaps it already exists.
What is living inside you that is ready to be revealed once the mud settles? Will you allow right action to arise within?
For about 20 years I have been telling people how much I hated my high school. I would tell stories about not having many friends and how I felt like the school emphasized discipline over education. There was the constant threat of getting a demerit. I couldn’t wait to graduate and leave for college. I even took my name off their mailing list.
While at college, I made friends easily and enjoyed my classes. It was only when I began writing long papers and taking exams that I realized how good of an education I received in high school. But I would still tell the story of how terrible my high school was.
When my 20 year reunion came around, I never saw the invitation (since I wasn’t on the list). My sister is the same age and when she received her invitation, she asked if I wanted to go. I told her I had no interest in a high school reunion. A few friends also invited me to go with them. Nope. I remained stubborn and rejected the gathering.
Then after joining Facebook a few years ago, some high school friends “friended” me. We began catching up about our lives. They commented on my inspirational thoughts or posted comments about my blog. Over time, I connected with more high school friends – folks I never even realized knew my name or remembered me. I started hearing amazing stories about marriages, divorces, finding life partners, losing parents, moving far away, caring for ill children, adoptions, careers and so much more. There were a lot of exchanges of good news, sad news, and day-to-day happenings. As I began to connect more, I received invitations to meet for a drink, a party, or just to hang out.
Now, the story about my high school has changed. I tell funny stories about teachers and friendships. Maybe I was just too insecure in high school. Maybe I was holding onto a story of the past that kept me insecure. Maybe I have been too insecure for the last 20 years to believe that every one struggles at 15 and who we are changes over time. Maybe I am still growing up. Maybe I didn’t like who I was in high school. The people I went to school with are pretty incredible. Maybe it’s time to release all the demerits I have given myself over the past 20 years.
Thank you Paramus Catholic and all my friends~
Mary Anne
