Easter weekend. The first rays of the sun shine through the blinds. My family is still asleep, and all is quiet, a strange quiet. We have not prepared for work or school for several weeks. We are inside, ordered to stay home. “Social distancing”, a phrase new to our vocabulary and our lives. I miss my friends. I miss being around children all day at work. Humans are social. It is hard to live at a physical and mental distance from each other, the feeling even more poignant during this holiday.
Dreamers, broken lovers, and the ocean
Hello friends. It has been a long time since I have written on this blog. Life is an unpredictable, twisting journey. I have walked down a spiritual path of many tears over the last couple of years. I moved across the country, leaving winter for spring, leaving the frozen prairie for the wild forest and ocean. I moved away from my Reiki practice as the Holy Spirit led me to reach out to the evangelical church of my childhood.
Through tears and love, I wrote what I heard from the heart and voice of Jesus. I put into words his burning gaze of Love and Social Justice. But with the American church’s overwhelming support of Donald Trump in the election, I threw my hands up in despair. My pen weeps over my old conservative Christian community. They have disowned the Holy Spirit and embraced ego, greed, and hatred.
But I still find Jesus among those who are broken, those who are seeking healing for themselves, their communities, the world. Jesus calls out to those whom the church has rejected, just like he loved those whom the Pharisees rejected. I have friends in the communities of Progressive Christianity, Universalism, the New Age, the Environmentalists, LGBTQ, the broken lovers and dreamers. I am finding a new place in these communities and in my Reiki practice.
This blog and my Reiki is dedicated to all these wanderers and mystics who are struggling in this ego-driven, competitive American society. Life is so much more than the next promotion, the next fancy vacation or house or car. Our spirit bodies transcend this realm of appearances.
I do find so much joy in my move back to the Pacific Northwest. There are many spiritual seekers here. The portals of light and healing are open over this beautiful place. I hear the songs of the Holy Spirit in the trees and the ocean. People love and protect God’s precious environment.
I took a trip to the ocean recently to breathe in the salty air and heal my winter- ravaged lungs. The weather was sunny, but the waves were high, wild, and majestic from a morning winter storm. I wrote a poem while watching the waves.
My spiritual practice is like the waves ebbing and flowing. Even the chaos of life’s storms creates beauty.
Namaste friends, new and old. I am excited to start again on this journey of spiritual exploration and healing with you. Please let me know in the comments if you have something to add or a story to share. Contact me about doing a Reiki session.
May the love and peace of the Holy Spirit heal you and bless you today.
Image Credits: Alexandra Koch.
As I slog through a cold, wet Minnesota spring, I am encouraged to see the signs of life all around me. Neither the depths of the dark, frigid winter nor the downpours of the damp, tempestuous spring can prevent the excitement and life of summer from arriving.
I walked to work this morning with my umbrella plastered around my body, guarding against the beaded wetness of the May sky. I turned my eyes toward the ground, and suddenly I noticed a spark of yellow. A dandelion braved its way through the storm to reach for the hidden sun.
This hopeful little flower reminded me of another, brighter day in which my young son picked dandelions. The sun dappled his small hands as he delightedly scooped up the flowers, their yellow heads transformed into cotton balls of white. The white of wisdom. The white of weathered seasons. The knowing of life and death, and the gift of those seeds to the next generation.
Such is the humble dandelion. So many people call it a weed, but it is a miracle. Its flower has a short life, only a few precious weeks. Yet beneath the yellow youth and the white seniority hides a rebirth. You see, the dandelion plant lives a long life, or many lives. It throws its roots deep and it flowers many times.
Our life is like that of the dandelion. We live a short time on this earth. Like the grass of the field, the Bible says. Here today, gone tomorrow.
We start out our journey here with joy, little babies basking in the yellow sunshine of life. We grow and we see sorrow and joy, pain and healing. We end our journey with our hair cotton white, our minds full of wisdom, and our seeds to offer the next generation.
Too often, we anxiously pack our days full, a brimming suitcase ready for another opportunity that we think will bring us joy. Or, perhaps, we keep a full suitcase just in the hope of impressing others. Busy for the sake of busy.
Rarely do we pause to consider the end.
But is it the end? Like the lowly dandelion, our roots are deep. We are spiritual beings, throwing forth a flower and seeds into this sun, while our tap root firmly anchors us to the other side. We pack our suitcases for this journey, but we neglect to prepare for the splendors of eternity. In vain hope, we throw our seeds into the winds of earthly fame and glory, but we forget to save some of these seeds for the inner world, the world of understanding and wisdom.
No matter how much we call it a weed, the dandelion knows itself. It knows the wisdom of inner beauty and a life reborn. Do we know the same?