"But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . ." – The Little Prince
Author: Ray of Sunshine
I consider myself first and foremost, a dog mom. Second, I consider myself an explorer, healer, and writer. To use more societally accepted labels, I'm a mental health therapist with a background in wilderness therapy, a running coach, and writer. My blog will share stories of growth, healing, mental wellness, the occasional running post, and of course, my adventures with my dog.
For what I am holding onto will not allow me to live.
The wounds of our past: slavery, separation, running from love.
Both Mother Earth and I know the depths of the darkness.
Wounds, resurfaced, by no other than a lover.
No longer buried deep, but instead, threatening to consume the light within.
The love within.
What choice will I make?
I hear my body groan in agony.
“Good”, instructs my Mother.
This is the release.
I can’t see the way,
but with signs, she assures me that she does.
My only job is to lean back,
to trust my fall into the night sky,
to trust the stars will catch me.
There is no doubt some type of death will occur.
In my sacred groan, I choose to release my pain.
I choose to let go.
My only chance to return to the Light.
Notes:
If you are in pain right now, know that you are not alone. This is part of the human journey. To transcend our pain. Not to hold it in, but to release it. To let it go. Realize it is not a burden to carry but a path to transformation. This process of moving through pain often requires more movement of energy than journaling or meditating. I suggest first moving the body and inviting any noises…screams, groans, cries, etc to come to the surface to be released. Then you may find peace in stillness.
I believe this is the difference between suicide and ego death, which is, I know, a big statement to make. But when we hold on to our pain, internalize it, keep it inside, it can absolutely kill our light, our soul. On the other hand, if we choose to step towards the pain and allow it to move, to be released, whether it be by groaning and physical release or talking to a therapist or friend, it is simply the ego that dies so the flame within can burn brighter.
The opposite of the sacred groan is, yes, the sacred moan. I hesitate to write about the sacred moan, for lack of many people understanding. There needs to be some conceptualization of sacred sexuality, even if it is only resonating with the term. The sacred moan is the mirrored twin of the sacred groan. It is the orgasm between two divine energies merging together to create something so expansive that it cannot be held within. It too, must be released. Yes, it can happen during sex, but it can happen outside of physical intercourse too. For it is in the energy, the pleasure, the love, the intersect of two divine energies coming together to co-create something bigger, more expansive, that one could have ever done in singularity.
The day Dad shared the news, I believe, started off as an ordinary day. My sisters and I went to school, came home, maybe ate dinner. That evening, before the announcement, he first took me, Sandi, and Amanda to Brookpark Fun & Games, which maybe I thought was a little odd, being a school night and all. I won a small stuffed animal. I don’t remember what it was, or how I won it. I just remember I had it when he sat us all down on Grandma’s couch.
I think he was standing, we were sitting, Grandma in the other room. He and Mom, he said, were getting a divorce.
At first I didn’t understand it. I think I was only 6 or 7. My only timeline is that my uncle, Dad’s youngest brother, passed away from Leukemia the year before. My sister tells me this is the first time she remembered seeing him cry, the second being just a few years ago when Amanda passed. Soon after the news, Dad had a heart attack, age 40, cause: a broken heart. I remember helping him put on his socks as he recovered that winter. I faintly remember mine and Sandi’s (my twin) kindergarten, 1st grade, and 2nd grade teachers feeling bad for us.
As I was sitting on Grandma’s couch, I remember picturing me and my sisters floating away in boxes in the ocean. Separated. It sounds silly, but I was so little, still partially dependent on my parents for shaping my understanding and view of the world. I must have cried. I just don’t remember. I don’t remember what happened next, when we saw Mom at home.
I think this is the day I first learned how to dissociate. My body partially shutting down and my imagination floating somewhere else, to protect me from my emotions, the emotions that my little body couldn’t yet process on its own.
I needed to my parents. I needed them to comfort me. To tell me that they loved me and that everything would be okay.
But they were in their own pain. They had learned themselves as children to shut down their emotions from their parents. A survival technique most likely used for generations to get through the hardships of life. And so, I was left alone, inside my own inner world.
For much of my life, I tried to dismiss my parent’s divorce as having any affect on my. After all, I figured, lots of kids experience the divorce of their parents. Of course, some of the wounds started to creep up in relationships as I entered my late 20s. Then, I recently learned that divorce, especially when kids have no voice in the matter, affects the part of the brain that associated with self-worth. [To be more specific, the frontostratial pathway, which links the medial prefrontal cortex (self-knowledge) with the ventral striatum (motivation and reward). Thank you Dr. Bruce Perry for sharing this research in What Happened to You? and https://www.huffpost.com/entry/self-esteem-brain_n_5500501]. I don’t think I felt that the divorce was my fault, but I didn’t feel like I had control of anything happening and I certainly had no one to comfort me, save for my stuffed animals Big Abu and Little Abu.
My brain, at the time, must have associated this with not being enough. A belief that I’ve only semi-consciously carried with me for the last 25+ years.
As a kid, self-soothing came in the form of eating, until I heard the “chunky” comments, and then I numbed my way to anorexia. Then there were sports. Sports, of course, aren’t bad. Except exercises fed my anorexia. Basketball, thinness, and grades all become closely associated with my self-worth.
Eventually, I became ruled by the belief, the fear, that I wasn’t enough. My body was too anxious to play basketball well. My shooting wrist would lock up. I’d have panic attacks, simply playing against boyfriends. In running, I was determined to leave the pressure, the past, behind me. I just wanted to bask in the freeness of running outside.
But you can’t escape the shadows that you don’t know are there. (Aka, the unconscious.)
I loved running.
Yet I got caught in the traps of a culture that said “do more” over and over and over again.
My body had enough. The left hip developed a “hitch”. On flat ground, I felt like I couldn’t control the leg’s swing. I developed calf strains. Running, limping, fainting 100 miles through the first one. And finally, an Achilles tendon injury that stubbornly wouldn’t heal.
I was frustrated for so long. Now I am simply grateful. I believe my Achilles was telling me “I’m not going to let you run until both you unconscious on conscious believes that you are enough. You don’t always have to do things to feel that way. You don’t have to work so hard to be loved. Only then will you know what it’s like to run embodied with freedom and joy. “
Joy and freedom have always been what I’ve strived for. And I have felt that way in the mountains, yet never without that little voice in the back of my mind too, coaxing me like the serpent of Eden, “You a have enough time. Do that mountain too.”
Now, there are times that I do want to extend the day outside. It’s the pressure in my body that feels awful, unloving, persisting even after I call out my ego and choose to stop. The should haves on the drive home actually driving me further away from myself, the home inside my body.
Striving, I realize, is not the right word for what I want to obtain. For striving for love is not love. It’s actually a returning. A returning to my 6 year old self, reminding her that she is loved. That she has nothing to prove, no need to claim her worthiness. A returning to that core truth, so when the world around her spins in a way she can’t control, only that truth exists. That love, joy, and freedom are always present, if not outside then within. The heart that exist outside of protections, ego, and human form.
The more years I spend on this earth and the wiser I get, the more I understand how our own healing contributes to the healing of others and of the earth. Taking the time to heal is never selfish but always a worthy endeavor, based in service.
For me, healing often comes in the quiet time after changes in my life, be it subtle, personal and related to the ego (my insecure, wounded self), or after major events. I’ve also had the pleasure of healing in the support of a group, such as when I participated in a Rites of Passage journey during graduate school, featuring a 3 day and 3 night fasted solo, with my transpersonal wilderness therapy cohort. In addition, I listen to a lot of podcasters who have done vision quests, ayahuasca ceremonies, or week-long meditation retreats. The journeys are, almost always (if you choose ayahuasca, do your research), meaningful and healing. Yet, financially or time wise, these journeys remain inaccessible for many. Or, a long retreat may feel a little too scary or a person may feel unworthy of that kind of investment in themself (which is something to explore in itself, maybe during your at-home retreat).
While an at-home retreat may not replace a retreat with a group, or spiritual leader holding space and designing the schedule, I fully believe in its power. Intention is what is important.
Before I dig in, for any new reader, I have intentionally moved into a yurt, with my fur child, for 6 months to cocoon and aid in my own healing, which you can read about more here: https://adogandhergirl.com/2022/11/08/cocooning-yurt-life/https://adogandhergirl.com/wanderings/ However, I’m still working and I still have wifi and cell reception. And whew, let me tell you…social media can be one of the best ways to throw you off your healing game (although there are a great deal of spiritual teachers the various platforms now)!
So, even despite the intention for half the year being peace and healing, I realized I needed more of a deep dive into the intention after a podiatrist recommended I wear a boot for a few weeks to help my Achilles heel, heal. Between that frustration (really, fear and sadness) and the frustration (again, fear and sadness) of not aligning with a friend, I knew I wasn’t in harmony with myself or my intention to heal and find peace. Then, my Reiki therapist*, perfectly scheduled for the next day, also had a vision of me in this quiet space. I’m not sure if I needed the extra vote or not, but I was certainly incentivized to get all my work done by Friday evening so I could detach from my cell phone, emails, and social media the next two days.
*A quick note on guides and mentors: I, personally, am not one to go out and ask someone to be a mentor, although I’ve heard many others speaking about having these types of guides in their life, free of charge. For me, I’ve come to see the monetary exchange between me and my mental health therapist, Reiki therapist, etc., as energy exchanges. “Energy exchange” is also a helpful term for me as I’m continually working through blocks around money.
I’m not going to go too deep into my experience here and instead give an outline of how to create your own healing retreat, but I do want to normalize that there is no normal experience. While I do recommend a certain order to the day, any stuck or cloudy emotions may remain throughout a 24hr period, and the path isn’t always linear. Whatever happens, happens, and it’s all okay.
1. Set an intention
I’ve been overall generalizing this post as a healing retreat, but what does that mean for you? What do you want to get out of your time? What themes do you want to explore? For instance, I was seeking healing around my Achilles tendon, but what I was really working through were my emotions and thoughts my Achilles injury was a manifestation of.
2. Clear your space (schedule and home)
I recommend at least two days, at least for the initial at-home retreat. 2.5-3 days is great, because honestly, sometimes you just need to spend extra time sleeping.
This is obviously easier to do if you don’t have a spouse and kids, but it is still doable! Or, if you’re like me and work from home, you may often work on the weekends, and it’s really important you get all that done beforehand. Then there’s the roommate situation. Don’t let these situations be blocks. Again, if you are holding the intention to create this time and healing space for yourself, that matters over anything being perfect.
A few suggestions: As a therapist, I’m a big proponent of parents having at least a little time for themselves each week, and a longer solo weekend each year, if that is at all a possibility. While if it is in your budget, you could get a hotel*, but mainly, I would recruit your spouse, friends, and family for help and have them hang out with the kids as long as possible. (Different cultures have known for a long time that parents are not meant to be sole caregivers, and communities used to have several adults help out for each one child. Unfortunately, communities are not currently set up that way, but it’s important to remember that taking time for yourself to heal and rejuvenate is beneficial for the whole family). If you’ve got roommates, maybe you know someone who is heading out for the weekend and you could house sit. Or, just tell your roommates (or your partner) your plan and let them know that you are choosing to remain silent or keeping conversations short for the weekend.
If possible, do some light cleaning ahead of time. Yet, if this turns into an activity for the next day (as it did for me), make it a mindful activity and listen to some high frequency beats rather than a podcast. Although podcasts can certainly play a role (see Step 2).
Oh, make sure to get your groceries ahead of time too! A go to meal for me is the Ayurvedic dish kitchari. I use a recipe from Minimalist Baker that I “mostly” follow.
*My goal here is to make this accessible as possible, in all seasons. For me, this retreat came in winter, when I was healing from an Achilles injury, and I didn’t want to have to drive or plan anything elaborate. But of course, heading out for a few nights of camping is a great option. The trick is, if you’re an athlete, is not to turn it into a big adventure weekend. (I love the healing aspects of movement, but there is so much healing in being still, or at least still-ish, especially if you are a “mover”.)
3. Design a ( flexible) schedule
Again, this is up to you and your intention, and there is no exact right way. Personally, I still wanted to get in my morning dog walk and cycling session on my indoor trainer, which others may not advise. Yet these activities were important to me, so I simply made them more intentional than usual. For example, in the morning dog walk, I was grounding in my intention for the day. During my cycling session, I stayed off my phone and listened to a podcast that also provided a “teaching” (or morning class) for the day. Truly, it wasn’t unlike a monk’s life (which I read about in Jay Shetty’s book Think Like a Monk) where the mornings are usually structured with a meditation, a class, and Yoga. Others may choose to truly meditate and be in silence throughout the day.
My suggestion, more than anything, is to create a flow to the day or weekend. For example, if you’re trying to work through a feeling of resistance, negative thoughts or emotions, grief, etc, I like to put journaling time or meditations where you go into the emotions earlier in the day, which may or may not be morning. Personally, on my first day I allowed myself to sleep until 8, did my morning Gabby Bernstein meditation (I’m part of her Miracle Membership), walked Pacer, cycled, ate breakfast, read a little bit from Sacred Contracts: Awakening Your Divine Potential by Caroline Myss, did some tidying up and then took a shower. By that time, it was well past 12.
Here’s some ideas:
-Morning meditation. -Morning “teaching” (book or podcast). -Mindful movement (walk outside, Yoga, Qigong, dance, foam roll, stretch). -Journal on the current on the challenge you are working to heal (optional: listen to bilateral stimulation music). -Meditation, breathinging into the heavy emotions. -Read a book (already picked out) that explores your challenge or is spiritual in nature, taking time to reflect and maybe journal so you read. -Second meditation (Focusing on your breath and allowing for what comes in, or perhaps another guided meditation. I picked one specifically on healing.) -Channeled journaling. As Lee Harris prompts, at the top of the page simply write (I’m paraphrasing a bit) “Spirit, what would you like me to know today?” and simply write in free flow for a few minutes. (You’re logical brain may try to stop you here, but even if you feel like it’s just your imagination writing, keep going.) -Actually do the exercises from your self-help or spiritual book -Breathwork (I like the simple box breathing practice of 4 second inhale, 4 second hold, 4 second exhale, 4 second hold.) -Gratitude list: Either write down 3-5 things you are grateful for, or, let it turn into a 3 page journal gratitude flow. One of the keys is not just to write down your gratitude list, but to feel it as well.
*Flexible: Be mindful of distractions, but allow for some spontaneity.
4. Turn off or limit device use
The big one here is going to be a social media fast. I’d also try to stay aways from any internet searches, but notice the urge and allow it to pass. (This is a way to retrain your brain to be in charge of devices and not to have devices, apps, etc be in charge of you.). A big thing for me was not to use the intentional space to work on a book or write another blog post. While often therapeutic for me, I knew it could just be a distraction from looking into the thoughts and emotions I didn’t want to feel. I chose to turn my phone off, but check it twice a day for family emergencies. My sister, who lives 20 minutes away, also knew my plan. Obviously, I did use my computer, but I resisted temptation and only used it for podcasts (“teachings”), meditations, and healing frequency music.
When you decide to turn your phone back on and return texts, emails, etc., is up to you and your obligations. If it has to be Sunday (or whatever day you are ending on) night, that’s okay, but ease into it as much as possible.
Optional: Use candles, incense, crystals, etc.
I am not an expert in any of these and their healing uses. Once in a while I’ll use sage or palo santo to clear energy, and I have an Apache tear drops rock that I bought in Sedona, AZ that I like. Mainly, I like to use candles and incense to create a certain atmosphere that can help me get into a different state, a state that is outside of my normal human “do, think, and maybe ruminate too state”. Use what calls to you.
5. Allow
After you’re at home retreat, let your experience settle. If nothing felt “profound”, don’t judge the experience. What often happens is we peel back a layer and reset our baseline. After my recent “at-yurt retreat” experience, I emailed my Reiki therapist and wrote “…I’m finally, truly, understanding what it means to “trust the process”. In hindsight, I realize that without my Achilles injury, I probably wouldn’t have gone on such a deep, personal journey and I’m only beginning to experience all the interplays it has in my life. And, I fully believe I have and am doing everything I can to heal, and I really just trust my achilles will heal when it’s supposed to. ” I lost that feeling maybe a day later. Yet daily, I bounce back more quickly to the feeling of trusting the process. I think amnesia is simply part of the human condition, but the more we work through the fog, the easier it gets to remember and turn back to truth.
Bonus: Follow Ups
A few weeks later, I felt the urge for the quiet, solitude (plus Pacer) time again. However, there was no way I could get around the work that I still needed to do. So instead, I just put 8 hrs of no phone or social media time aside and was intentional with the time I did have. Because the timeframe was compact, I was just a little more focused with my time. This shortened retreat was healing too, and I think 4 hours could be as well. Again, it’s the intention that matters.
(This may seem like a lot of time for inner work, but again, this is part of the reason why I moved into a yurt with my dog for 6 months. I can’t say exactly why yet, but I know its an important part of my own journey.)
Instead, we’ve been trained to see it as “normal”. How the sun rise each day and the stars glitter each night. That I can give a friend a hug and feel a profound gratitude for their presence. How, as I type this, I can reach out my hand and put my fingers through the fur of a being who is pure, unconditional love.
I don’t care how well someone explains to me TVs, cell phones, and computers. I will always be amazed that I can get an “I love you” text from my dad 1,500 miles way in a matter of seconds. Or how I can get a live picture on my screen of a full movie, taped years ago, past appearing in reality as present. It’s mind blowing.
Or, that one time in my life, I was a mere egg, just a possibility. Then, a 6 lb baby, paired with another 6lb baby (my twin sister), who came out of a woman (my mother) who is more petite than I am. Now, I’m a full grown 5’4″ walking and talking adult. Bananas!
And, if you really want to talk miracles, what about the fact that we live on this sphere floating around in space, orbiting around the sun from just the right distance so we can survive, and that the moon affects the ocean tide?
Love.
That a human body, made of skin and bone, can experience the sensation of love. That be it physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual, we can love, and so deeply that it hurts.
When you think of life that way, when you can stare out at the mountains in the pink glow of sunrise or at the ocean as the sun fades in the horizon, it actually seems silly to believe magic doesn’t exist.
It may take some squinting at first, some fuzzy-ing up your vision as you did as kid to see the blackboard to prove you didn’t need glasses, this time to un-train your conditioned eyes, but I promise, when you look choose to look through the lens of awe, you will see it. Not only will you see it, you will realize magic has always existed, has always been all around you.
[I was recently asked by a friend if I’ve ever tried plant medicine before, as some of my writings seem to reflect as much. At the time of this writing, I have not, nor have I ever had any medicine much stronger than Tylenol, save for the local anesthesia when I’ve gone to the dentist or had my PRP injection. Still, I am certainly not against plant medicine and the beautiful “places” I’ve heard it can take you. (I am especially interested in using psychedelic medicine in trauma work by trained therapists.) Personally, what I have found is that the deeper I dive into my mental health journey, or inner work, and the braver I’ve gotten to be a witness to my own darkness, that only spirituality is left on the other side. This writing, in particular, was written during my “at home weekend retreat” where I spent much of the day journaling, meditating, and going out onto the land to walk my dog.]
I have done a lot of the deep inner work sifting through fear and pain. In doing so, I’ve also developed a deeper spiritual practice, which is ever strengthening. Even so, at this point, I am not immune to the tug of darkness.
While I have never been suicidal, there’s still a part of me (I used to say it was part of my soul, now I think its part of a shadow) that says “Okay. I’m done. I don’t want to be here (in the physical world) anymore.”
What time and wisdom have taught me is simply that this feeling will pass, the light will come back. That darkness can be my greatest teacher, but I have to be brave enough to pass through it.
Eventually, I will remember. I will remember that light, joy, and love never truly leaves us. It just gets blocked. And the only way to remove a block is to surrender to it, to feel the way through the darkness, or rather, the difficult emotions. Maybe the human experience is just learning how to remove the blocks from our path, strengthening the knowledge of our own sacredness and deepening our resolve to be in the light.
[In therapy, especially EMDR, I’m literally helping clients remove blocks, or in EMDR terms “negative cognitions” (including past memories and emotions) that were picked up from false narratives created in childhood in an attempt to explain the behavior of unhealed adults.
If I could talk to a person when they are feeling suicidal, the best wisdom I could offer is “this too shall pass.” At the darkest point, the wisest thing to do is to ask for help, to let someone else be the light until they can retrieve their own. And when they retrieve their light, it will be brighter than before, and when they start sharing that light with light others, they will bask in an even greater light. ]
I wasn’t sure if I’d every get to the place of being truly, truly grateful for my Achilles tendon injury. I had found appreciation in it- last year I wrote about how it taught me joy in slowing down and being grateful for what I could do. Yet I was only part way there. I wasn’t even close to how I feel now. I still had more pain to go through. Another summer of hobbling around in the mountains, more PT exercises and therapies like shockwave and PRP (both painful). On top of that, there was more heartbreak, more shadow work, and more emotional work that I had to experience.
In hindsight, cursed and blessed hindsight, all the pain was really one and the same, pointing toward what needed healing.
Now, I’d probably be a little silly to say it is all in hindsight. Even so, I’d be blind not to say that there is a breaking free.
When I decided to move into a yurt for six months, I mostly knew what I was doing. I wanted to heal, to repair the frayed ends of my nerves, the breaks in my heart, and the cracks in my soul. I just didn’t know to what degree, or even to what degree was possible.
What I realize now is that in the past two and a half months, I’ve essentially put myself in a self-growth and spiritual masterclass.
Upon rising, I’ve consistently done a Gabriel Bernstein meditation or exercises. Five mornings a week, I’ve been on my bike trainer listening to a new podcast, including Rich Roll, The School of Greatness (Lewis Howe), On Purpose (Jay Shetty), Deja Blu, Highest Self (Sahara Rose), Impact the World (Lee Harris), Pretty Intense (Danica Patrick), and Almost 30 (Krista Williams and Lindsey Simcik) and so many more. Then, maybe I’ll listen to another podcast while doing my foam rolling and mobility or strength work. I’ve spent more time reading and less time watching Netflix. I’ve practiced, and sometimes simply attempted, to shut my phone off to journal, channel my guides and higher self, and practice meditation.
I have a deeper connection with my unlimited being (or, spiritual self), than I ever would have had I not had the injury. I think my ego’s reigns would still be strong, judging my worth by comparison, be it race times or how far I could push my body in what it could do.
Unconsciously, I was tired of the fight to prove my worth and control the narrative. My body told me that long before my conscious mind would. The body will always tell you what your unconscious mind believes.
Of course, I know I’m not fully “there” yet, but I’m learning, and beginning to embody, unconditional self love and true joy.
I’m grateful that the healing journey has been slow too. If it wasn’t, I never would have reached out to a wonderful Reiki therapist who is now on my “healing team.” I’m also starting with a new psychotherapist who met everything on my checklist: EMDR, somatic awareness, and spiritual coaching. I also know I don’t see all of the interplays yet, but am excited to see how the journey unfolds.
I do know that I will, at times, fall out of gratitude, for, if anything, forgetting seems to be a large part of the human experience.
Yet, I have this experience and this practice to come back to now. I have a gratitude and love that runs deeper than my fears.
One gift, or word, my older sister left our family with before she passed was the word “yay!”. I think she must have picked the word up from the minions in Despicable Me. I really don’t remember, but “yay!” and “awesome” became word that we associate with her.
While it’s not uncommon to hear any member of my family say “Yay!” and then see another family member smile, I only realized recently what an “awesome present” (all puns intended) my sister left us with.
Lately, I’ve been listening to a lot of podcasts that discuss things like quantum physics and vibrational frequencies, which a very teeny, tiny part of me has begun to understand on a logical level.
I’ve also begun, while alone in my yurt (+Pacer), seemingly out of nowhere and somewhat unconsciously, hearing myself yell “Yay!”. Pacer looks up from the couch and wags her nub, both of us realizing that at the same time that the sound came from me.
Yay! is an exciting, celebratory word. The exclamation point that comes after it is more of a given than a necessary component.
Yay! doesn’t just mean life is good, it means life is amazing, miraculous, and so much so that your inner being can’t help but shout “Yay!” It’s like the vibration, or the energy of the word is too big to contain inside of oneself and must instead be shouted.
As you read the word “yay!” over and over again in the blog post, can you feel the energy rising in your chest?
Why hold it in? Say it out loud with me. Yay!
How did that feel? How do you feel now compared to when you started reading this post?
Yay! is like sunshine in a word. It contains so much light that it can’t help but to burst forth, raising your vibration and that of everyone around you.
Even when not feeling great, try saying “yay”. When said without the exclamation, or in a monotone voice, it feels kind of silly to say. Which is still a lift in the right direction. And personally, while I’m not one to bypass uncomfortable emotions, a little silly on a dark day is still a much appreciated light. Whether a day is a bit gray or already sunny, I’ve now come to consciously start saying “Yay!” to raise my own vibration and let the Universe (Spirit/God/Mother Nature) know that I am grateful for what I’ve been given.
Practice:
Have you ever seen this magnets that say “YAY! _______!” “YAY! MOUNTAINS!” “YAY! COFFEE!” “YAY! DOGS!” “YAY! CAMPING!” “YAY! LOVE!” “YAY! ADVENTURE!” “YAY! ADVENTURE!” “YAY! PIZZA!” “YAY! CUPCAKES!” “YAY! FRIDAY!” “YAY! PICKLES!” “YAY! FRIENDS!” There is pretty much a “YAY!” for everything, which is another way of saying that there is so much to celebrate and be grateful for.
This is your practice. Make saying “Yay!” a daily habit. Throughout the 16 or so hours that you are awake, say “Yay!” whenever you see or hear anything that makes you happy or thankful. “Yay! coffee!” “Yay! dog walks!” “Yay! lunch!” “Yay! friendly cashier!” “Yay! friend who called me!” “Yay! candles!” “Yay! books!” “Yay! going to be early!”
At the end of the day, just take note of how you felt. Then, if you want, do it again the next day. And then maybe again the next. Because life is way more miraculous that we’ve been trained to see. Yay!
[I always feel like I have to write a disclaimer when I write a post like this for fear that what I say will be misconstrued and called “toxic positivity”, even though the study of “positive psychology” itself is misconstrued. I am 100% for feeling all the feelings, because feeling them is the only way we allow uncomfortable emotions to pass, and the only way we can be guided to deeper truths. Maybe it’s because I’ve done the challenging work of going into my own darkness that I’ve gotten to this point, but I really, really care about feeling good and living a life that is directed towards joy. So yes, feel all the feelings, and then orient towards beauty, awe, and however you want to feel.]
Some say that winter’s days are too short, too dark.
I say, they are perfect harmony, for what my body and soul require.
Enough time to wander, to play in the Light.
To greet the morning deer, and howl with the coyotes welcoming night.
Enough time to rest, to read, to contemplate and write.
To whisper and twinkle with the stars and praise the moonlight. Remark in the contrast, the highlight of the white snow, against the navy sky.
Winter invites me in. My soul, grateful for the reflection. I bury myself in books and imagination while the rabbits burrow in their holes.
I feel alive in the sharp chill of the air and in the comfort of the fire.
Winter both calls me under the covers and to the window, to be a witness to the beauty of stillness, as Mother Earth rests under her own blanket, a gift from Father Sky.
Pacer, the blur shown, was one very excited puppy to be running in the moonlit snow.
I ran into the moonless night, not sure what I would find. Was I even searching? After all, I had no light, nothing, to show the way. What way?
Pulled forward only by something I could not describe. One blind step in front of the other, stumbling over rocks and roots. Falling. The dead leaves cushioning my hands.
It would have made sense to turn back, to the warmth of the fire. But in the pure black night, the way back had disappeared.
Then, in the stillness, in the silence of the dark, I heard a calling. So soft, I was temped to call it fiction. Yet fiction is not false. Indecipherable- was it coming from the sky? With my only choice to trust the yearning inside of me, I began to run again.
First hesitant, still falling- and then… Swiftly as a deer, the forest my home, I moved with primal, intuitive instinct.
I was running towards the light of the horizon, the pink and orange sky. My frozen breath, the only sign of my human body.
Until it wasn’t. Until I blended into the sunrise, leaving only footprints behind.
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Without question, 2022 was a challenging year for me. While the events were not as harsh as in the year 2020 when I faced the physical death of my older sister, I faced my own spiritual death in 2022.
A great unshedding. Certain events led me to facing the pain inside of me, conversing with my own shadows, shadows that had protected me for so long…and letting them go. It was not an easy process, nor one that I would have necessarily chose at the onset. But I am grateful for it. It has already led to more love and joy in my life, or rather, an unveiling of what was already inside me. Of course, the journey is not over. I am still human after all. Yet I feel something shifting, slowly, and I am quite certain it is only because I had the courage to go into the darkness of my pain. Ironically, it is in the depths of darkness that one finds light.
A Dog and Her Girl 