As we outgrow certain aspects of our lives, such as jobs, relationships, and ways of thinking, there is often a transition period to the new place we are heading for. The time between the decision to make a change and seeing the results firmly rooted in our lives can be one of the hardest times we experience. It’s full of uncomfortably unfamiliar territory, tests our patience, our strength, and our desire to “stick it out” to get to that new place. It often requires letting go of people and places we’ve known for a long time without a clear idea who or what will fill that void. But have heart, because these transition periods are important in anchoring us into the new. We often look at them as unforgiving periods of time when nothing seems to be going right. We just want the new to happen NOW that we forget to transition isn’t just important, it plays into our natural rhythms. I know myself, when I really commit to going forward, I struggle with the feelings that things are changing too slowly, or worse, that I’m not handling it right and I should run back to the familiar. When we are clamoring and fighting to get to a new place in our lives it can be helpful to meditate on the way a day transitions to night, and of course vice versa. The way the sun sets allows for the calm and quiet of dark to ease in, gracefully winding down a day. If the darkness came too fast it would be a frightening experience, pretty shocking, rather than one that gently opens our world to the stars and beyond. Twilight is a wonderful reminder that even in nature change comes at a steady pace, and for good reason.
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Here are a few things to consider about spirituality:
I was searching for some info on sand and what each grain is made of, and I found the most incredible website by accident. This guy magnified sand 100 - 250 times to show what each grain is like. Turns out, each grain is unique and really cool looking! As always, the micro is a reflection of the beautiful wonder of the macro. The way each one is so unique is so fascinating. Can you believe this is what's below your feet when you stroll down by the waves? Have a look for yourself. http://www.sandgrains.com/Sand-Grains-Gallery.html These sand particles as seen under a microscope are my surprising source for meditation today. Photo copyright Dr. Gary Greenberg
I found this while searching for help on Apophysis. Apophysis is a fractal generating program. I can barely render a few blobs, and I was blown away by this video. The creativity, talent and self-expression people are capable of is something I never tire of. The fact that one person, one little person, created something as intricate and complex a this, it's something I could reflect on all day. This is a quirky piece I wrote to capture what it feels like to face a blank page. I hope the metaphors and imagery are fun and you catch a glimpse of your own writing journey in it as you read! She closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally, decided to walk through the door.
Her boots crunched onto hard snow as she descended onto the trail. She walked fast, knowing if she hesitated she’d turn and go back. What lay beyond the trail frightened her. Her eyes cast down. She saw nothing more than her own feet. With each step two big, insulated black boots disturbed pure, white snow. Directly above was fresh and clear sky. In the distance, heavy clouds pushed in. They weighed on her mind and she questioned her judgment as she powered forward, right toward them. She reached the edge of the trail, the edge of what was safe. She kept her eyes down. If she looked up at the white expanse she would be too frightened. Her boots sunk in deeper and deeper. They disappeared as white powder graced past her knees. Her momentum slowed but her cheeks burned red from exertion. She had wanted to do this so much, played it out in her mind a thousand times, and all with the same result: she’d get there. She’d make it, and eventually, her steps in the snow would be erased and this struggle would be nothing but a memory. The snow started hitting her hips. It took all her strength and energy to push onward, one slow, muscle burning step after another. Out of breath and feeling her heart pound in her chest she stopped. The white expanse surrounded her. The storm clouds rolled in and with the rise in pressure came a rise in temperature. Sweat poured down her back. Panic swept over her. What if she couldn’t find her way? The white unknown sat before her, dark footprints behind her. If she followed them she would arrive back at her cabin. Her safe, warm and familiar cabin. She pushed herself forward, pushing her knees against the heavy snow, her thighs burning with the strain. The dark clouds were over her now. Light flurries began to fall. It coated her hair and shoulders, a seeming suggestion to just give in. All she had to do was stop for good and the snow would swallow her up; it’d be like none of this had ever happened. She brushed off the snow and pushed forward hard. Her breathes came out in visible puffs before her. Her chest heaved up and down and all she could hear was her body forcing its way through the snow. So what if her throat felt like it was on fire and her legs wanted to burst open from the exhaustion? She couldn’t give up, not now. What she desired was closer than ever. She couldn’t see it but she was out here, pushing onwards, and any moment it would appear and she’d be there. She fell and submerged into the cold snow. Hot panic flooded her. She reached forward, her heart pounding, crawling, continuing only because it was too late to turn back. She lifted her head and saw smoke billowing up. She dragged herself forward and stumbled onto a trail. She was almost there! The hard snow felt good and once again she walked fast. Her body pumped with endorphins. The sweat on her back began to cool and reawaken her. A feeling of freshness merged with the feeling of having worked so hard to get here. It was a feeling of accomplishment and she slowed her steps, wanting to savor this. She walked up to the cabin. The door flung open and he welcomed her with a big hug. He handed her a mulled wine and she laughed. She was already forgetting the journey and could hardly remember sitting in her own cabin, reading a book, trying to muster up the courage to go. This moment of Zen is brought to you by the Boston Ballet |