January 11th, 2019
When I picked my word/mantra for 2018, I had no idea just how powerful it would be. My word for 2018 was: Devotion. I thought that word would be all about “Devotion” to stillness, to meditation, to love, to service, to creating, to healing, to traveling, to causes, to writing, to connections, and to nourishing peace.
What I didn’t know was that devotion to family and time. It was a year devoted to my dad as he spent most of the year ill. It was a year 
devoted to time and spending as much as possible with my dad and family. And it was a year devoted to love.
As I reflect on what was a difficult and sad year, I will always be grateful for the devotion I had for my family and their devotion to me.
Perhaps I didn’t choose the word devotion for 2018, rather devotion had chosen me.
Dedicated to beloved father who passed away in September.
Posted in Gratitude | Toning the Om
December 21st, 2018
2018 has been a tough year for me and my family. My dad was ill for most of the year and passed away in September. My sisters and I spent a lot of time with him making sure he had good care and spending every possible moment we could with him. We all miss him terribly and the darkness of the season is felt deep within each of us. We have spent this year nurturing, worrying, grieving, and longing. The darkness of the season has felt long.
And yet, there is a promise of light – a Winter Solstice. There is a reminder that we grow in the darkness. We feel hope in the unknown. And we return to the light. Each day will grow longer, and those long dark nights will grow shorter.
Perhaps we will feel the return of the light. It will take time. We will feel our dad’s light within us – the joy and love and humor he shared with everyone he met. His story, and our story will carry on because we carry him in our hearts. It is the most primordial feeling there is – love. And that love becomes our primordial light.
As Alberto Villoldo shares, “Primordial Light is the creative power of the Universe which is available to us to create beauty in the world, and to heal ourselves and others. But to work with Primordial Light we must remember the way of the luminous warrior. We must live and act fearlessly, know the answer to “Who am I?” and the ways beyond death into infinity.”
The path towards light always begins in the dark. It’s how seeds grow. It’s how we grow.
The Solstice is a reminder that light emerges out of darkness. The most holy darkness is the deepest darkness.
May we fully emerge out the darkness into a greater light for all to feel.
Happy Solstice.
This is dedicated to my beloved sisters, Kathleen and Dawn. They are bright lights in the world.
Posted in Life | Toning the Om
December 6th, 2018
Our light goes in and out. 
We find ourselves again and again.
And we lose ourselves again and again.
Sometimes we need the darkness to find our light.
Our light dims and love helps us find it.
Our light shines bright lightly and love shows us how to share it.
Our light glows and other people notice it.
We sometimes see the light in others before we see our own light.
We shine and celebrate the light in others.
Oh, and their light flickers too.
As our days grow shorter, may we find our inner sun that is always shining light.
May we remember that light emerges from the darkness.
And that the most holy darkness is the deepest darkness.
Let our flickering light and holy darkness be our teachers.
Tags: Holy Darkness, Inner Light, Meditation, Shine, Winter
Posted in Meditation | Toning the Om
November 14th, 2018
I’m right here.
As I headed into the woods to look for fall warblers and hawks, I found myself smiling at the abundance of yellow trees. I looked up to see the sunlight streaming down onto the tops of the trees. Then tears came streaming down my face. I was overcome with joy of being in nature, of being surrounded by light, of walking with my spouse. Of feeling the crunching of leaves and feeling peaceful. It had been a long time since peace filled me – as most of the year has been spent being with my ill father until his passing in September.
Nature is a great reminder that everything changes. Leaves fall and mulch. Seeds succumb to the darkness. And transformation comes in every season.
Many emotions filled me with every breath – sadness, gratitude, peace, and grief. I felt all of it. I looked up as the sunlight bounced off the yellow leaves and listened to the silence that filled the trail. Suddenly I heard squirrels hurrying through bushes, birds flying from tree to tree, and crisp air blowing the leaves. Smiling at the beauty all around me, I heard the words, “And God whispered, I’m right here.”
Through the mystery of grief and love, my heart felt peaceful. Lost in emotions of sadness, I knew joy. Grasping for connection, I knew groundedness. Longing for the return of hope, I found myself whispering, “I’m right here.”
Tags: Breathe, Faith, Grief, Holy Darkness, Hope, Hunter Island, Longing, Meditation, Mindful, Nature, Seasons, Space, Transformation
Posted in Letting Go | Toning the Om
November 2nd, 2018
Streams of my father’s friends came into the funeral home to honor him and share their condolences. Many walked up to me and extended their hand and said, “Sorry for your troubles.” I couldn’t really understand at first what they were saying. As the line grew longer and longer, many folks told me how they met my father, shared a story, and ended with their condolences, “Sorry for your troubles.”
I was a bit overwhelmed by the number of people who came to my father’s wake and repeatedly hearing the words sorry for your troubles. I came to learn that the expression is used all over Ireland. As the poet and theologian Pádraig Ó Tuama writes, “It comes directly from an Irish phrase, yet Irish has no word for ‘bereavement’ – the word used is ‘troiblóid’. So the phrase would be better translated ‘Sorry for your bereavements’.”
It was quite powerful seeing his wake filled with long-time friends and neighbors all sharing in our loss. Grief felt beyond expression – beyond words. Sorry for your troubles gave space to my inner experience of grief. The expression felt bigger than a condolence message. It felt like an acknowledgement of the enormity of losing a parent, especially someone like my father who was so loved and touched so many lives.
As the author, Liz Gilbert, says, “Grief is not an interruption of your life, but a braided-into-your soul aspect of it. We weep and we continue.” My experience of grief is that it brings me to my knees. It reminds me of how much I love and long for the connection that existed. And I am also reminded of how hard it can be for people to express their condolences or to know that grief lasts a lot longer than the days following a funeral. I know it can feel overwhelming to reach out to check in on grieving friends after time has passed after their loss. And it’s as overwhelming being the one experiencing grief.
Bearing the effects of losing a loved one takes more than weeks or months. It’s an everyday experience where sometimes grief feels heavy and other times grief inspires more love. The most important part is showing up, expressing your condolences (calls and cards are wonderful), sitting with those in grief; and if you don’t know what to say, you can always hold their hand, wipe their tears, and say, “Sorry for your troubles.”
This is dedicated to my beloved father, Ted Flanagan, who passed away on September 6, 2018.
Tags: Connection, Family, Grief, Irish, Liz Gilbert, Loss, Poetry
Posted in Letting Go | Toning the Om
October 13th, 2018
Thoughts swirl after grief. None of them seem real or capture the essence of loss. Sometimes I look for words from other people to help give language to the grief that lives inside my heart. One author who captures grief brilliantly is Joan Didion. In her books, The Year of Magical Thinking and Blue Nights, Didion writes about her experiences of grief and the echoes of aches it leaves behind. Each line feels like a deep meditation of the heart.
Was it only by dreaming or writing that I could find out what I thought?
In time of trouble, I had been trained since childhood, read, learn, work it up, go to the literature. Information was control. Given that grief remained the most general of afflictions its literature seemed remarkably spare.
That I was only beginning the process of mourning did not occur to me. Until now, I had only been able to grieve, not mourn. Grief was passive. Grief happened. Mourning, the act of dealing with grief, required attention.
Grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it. We anticipate (we know) that someone close to us could die, but we do not look beyond the few days or weeks that immediately follow such an imagined death.
You have to pick the places you don’t walk away from.
To my beloved dad—I miss you everyday.
Posted in Life | Toning the Om
August 7th, 2018
There was a time I was between here and there. Now I find myself between here and here.
I came across the above line in one of my journals and was reminded just how easy it is to move away from the present moment. I have released the notion of staying busy. I found the busier I was, the more exhausted I became. By making space for some quiet, I am able to find time for walking, watching sunsets, meditating, writing, and sitting. It’s amazing how busy we can convince ourselves to be!
As Thich Nhat Hanh says in his writing, I Have Arrived, I Am Home:
“I have arrived” is our practice. When we breathe in, we take refuge in our in-breath, and we say, “I have arrived.” When we take a step, we take refuge in our step, and we say, “I am home.” This is not a statement to yourself or another person. “I have arrived, I am home” means I have stopped running; I have arrived in the present moment contains life. When I breathe in and take refuge in my in-breath, I touch life deeply. When I take a step and I take refuge entirely in my step, I also touch life deeply, and by doing so I stop running.
Stop running is a very important practice. We have all been running all of our lives. We believe that peace, happiness, and success are present in some other place and time. We don’t know that everything—peace, happiness, and stability—should be looked for in the here and the now. This is the address of life—the intersection of here and now.
I have stopped running and I have arrived. For me, being here is being home.
Welcome home.
Posted in Meditation | Toning the Om
July 19th, 2018
As we become more aware of our thoughts, we can start to observe and listen deeply to the messages we give ourselves.
Take a moment and ask yourself:
Is this thought giving me joy or taking away my joy?
Spend 10 minutes each day observing your thoughts.
Watch where you mind goes and allow your breath to take you back to peace.
The calmer our mind, the more we can give and receive.
Give yourself 10 minutes each day to observe your thoughts.
Where will your thoughts take you today?
Breathe your way to peace.
Posted in Meditation | Toning the Om
May 29th, 2018
For many years, I would sit with my teacher and she would ask me to be mindful of my breathing. 
We would sit each week and take a few slow, gentle breaths in and out.
Often my homework assignment from my teacher would be an invitation to be mindful of my breathing throughout my day. I was to pause and take conscious breaths with each phone call, before each email, or meal.
My teacher would often say, “I want you to master your breathing. If you can master your breath, you can master anything.”
Want to join me in my daily practice of breathing with mindfulness throughout the day?
Breathe in. Breathe out. Let’s master our breathing – a breath at a time.
Posted in Meditation | Toning the Om
May 10th, 2018
This poem was submitted as part of National Poetry month. It is written by 15-year-old, George Ferguson. It fits into all that Toning the OM represents: mind and body meeting inner strength and possibility. I love how much George listened and learned from his own physical struggles and chose to rise up from them. His inner struggles led him to deep insights about himself. Congratulations George!
As a unique, young individual
with just the strangest issues,
physical abilities included,
from the incapability of using limbs
to being unable to keep my head screwed on my body,
led to classes,
led to lectures,
led to lessons;
bowling occurred first,
where my arms were twigs,
where they could snap at any moment,
while the ball flung from left gutter to the right,
going backwards at certain points,
and this was only part one of the project,
with my legs being the next step,
which strolled me to a path of dancing,
Irish step dancing,
where even though I had contained zero talent,
had no way of making my legs become pencils,
the people accepted me,
not only for my Irish roots,
but having a passion for wanting to become stronger than Ali,
wanting to become better than Flatley,
and that’s where the third step entered,
with my noggin latched into place,
different kinds of social issues on both ends on the spectrum,
where it became an incredible struggle,
that therapy landed right into my lap,
and even with the flaws,
the challenges,
the obstacles,
the maturity in me has risen,
and life has been a machine since the early days.
© This poem is the property of George Ferguson and permission to publish has been given by his family.
Tags: Inner strength, Poetry, Possibility, Teen Poem, Youth
Posted in Life | Toning the Om
devoted to time and spending as much as possible with my dad and family. And it was a year devoted to love.
