Author: gypsywoman

“Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love.”- Rumi

A good friend of mine and I were in the perennial, deep discussion about “free will.” Everyone has their own take on that, and my point here is not to discuss the answer. That’s an answer we must each come to on our own.

But we were also talking, at the same time, about “prioritizing”, something I certainly have seemed to have a challenge with. (Ugh. Anyone else out there have a love/hate relationship with  procrastination and distraction?)

I absolutely loved a question my friend asked me: “Aly, what is it you can’t help but do?” So I’ve been thinking about that.

What if I started treating myself like a “real writer”, someone who can’t help but write? How would I then begin to prioritize my love of writing? How would I begin to treat it as if it were important?

Writing is the thing I can’t help but do. At least it’s one thing I can’t help but do. Through everything, it helps me cope with my life, even if nobody else were to care about what I’m saying. And the beautiful, the marvelous thing, is that now and then I hear that someone does care, that there was some benefit because I shared my words.

What if I treated myself every single day as if my dreams are important and worth building? Even if they fail. How would I begin to prioritize testing, failing, learning…and then getting back up?

What if I started treating myself as if I were someone worthy of being happy, healthy, and living in a state of joy and abundance? 

Here I am at this place in my life that feels like “sink or swim”. I can either crash and burn…or possibly fly.

At this moment, I just want to be grateful for that.

I just want to appreciate my journey to this place, this now, that is calling to me rise, to breathe, to listen to my heart. This moment is calling me to be present, awake, brave, and at the same time surrendered.

“You can’t push this river,” a lovely woman said to me. I love that. Yes, I must be patient. I must allow the river to carry me. With focus, intention and compassion, I must do what I cannot help but do. I must allow myself to be silently drawn by the strange pull of what I really love.

Now is the time for noticing and for prayer. Now is the time for being open and receptive.

No, I can’t push this river.

Sometimes it hurts to feel. Still,I am finding that to dive deep, to sit and unravel the feelings blesses me.  Fear begins to show its nuances of shame, guilt, confusion, rage, grief, disappointment, and frustration. I notice that to recognize everything that’s coming up and to let it dance in front of me has healing properties. 

To acknowledge it all has healing properties.

To confront it forces me to see where I have betrayed myself, where I have given up my power, and where I have refused ownership of my own life. I see that I have blamed others. And from time to time I have turned a blind eye to my responsibility.

To see this can feel humbling, and frightening, like devastation…or the edge of devastation, but it is also a path to growth. A new page is turning in my life and sometimes I feel as if I am not turning quickly enough with it. It feels like I’m not keeping up, which feels precarious. Yet how could I be separate from this unfolding of my life? I am always held by something I don’t necessarily understand.

We are all so very human, and yet the divinity of Beingness shines through us, too. At times we appear to ourselves to be helpless, receiving moment by precious moment the grace of God. I don’t know all the answers, I only know that there is a magic in the acceptance of what is. And so I work at that.

Grace. Grace. Grace.

Right now this grace looks like this lovely house I get to live in. It looks like a roof over my head and a warm bed to sleep in. It looks like plenty of food in the refrigerator, hot and cold running water, and a shower every morning. Not bad for “the edge of devastation.”

And the question is: What now? 

How do I want to step up? Own up. Choose.

Four years ago I didn’t see the sharp left turn coming  up in my life. And yet I jumped. I allowed myself to be brave and willing and curious. Paradoxically, sometimes it felt as if I were being dragged kicking and screaming into something foreign and unfamiliar. I see that all of that was a strange grace too.

I am not the same woman I was four years ago. And I do not yet know the woman I am becoming. I am breathing myself into a new life. With patience, listening closely to the wisdom of my body, I am beginning to trust that the way is opening up in front of me.

(Thank you so much Dr. Kate Dow for your service in teaching women the ways of getting in touch with our feminine knowing.)

Dedicated, with so much gratitude, to Dr. Kate Dow, to the Cultivating Calm and Confidence Within program and to the wonderful women with whom I am steadily growing closer to the wisdom of the feminine that shines within all of us.

Here I am. Stumbling. Standing. Walking. Dancing. I am alive within this vast Amazing Grace. Love’s confusing joy. Mystery…and yet not a mystery at all. I am alive within this vibrating Presence. (Where did all this come from?)

For that, let me remember to be truly grateful.

For the miracle of this vehicle that carries me through my days…for my breath…for the miracle of BEING…let me be truly grateful.

Let me be grateful for the grace of each day.

This year I am asking to face whatever shows up with less fear. More openness. More willingness. More courage. I am asking for more delight through the new year as I learn to be more attentive to the wisdom that is right here…in everything. 

I am seeking to move in love, service…surrender.

There is a divine wisdom that is alive in my cells, in my blood and my bones…in my muscles…in my DNA. 

Do you feel this wisdom too? Deep in what you are?

Let me learn to be more receptive to the guidance and the gentle kindness in the murmurings of my own heart.

I am learning to hear something that is much deeper than the noise and clamor of the world.

Something that is deeper than doing and achieving.

Deeper than measuring up…or the silliness of comparing ourselves to one another.

I am learning to rest in my own nature and in the wisdom of what I am.

When the world feels like a cacophony of judgment and rage…anxiety and threat; I am learning to find a peace that holds all that wild energy with compassion. There is a whispering: “What’s true?” Something is bigger than all of that, and it isn’t in my head.

Day by day, as I practice, I am becoming a friend to myself. As I breathe, as I chant or hum, as I lie on the floor and attend the sensations…everything I feel; I am becoming a friend to myself.

As the new year begins, my wish for all of us is that there be peace. Let it begin now. Let it begin in the only place I know where to start: here…in this experience. In this body.

Jake and I are waking up in a new Airbnb this morning…still here in Madison. Yesterday was moving day. We are in a much more spacious place where I have my own room for writing and working and for my altar…which is absolutely lovely to have.

Through the rest of this year and into next year let me focus on joy and gratitude. Let me focus on the beauty and grace that are in my life.

Let me look to the direction of the whispers of my heart. Microscopic delights. Quotidian Miracles. Bits of light shining through the sheltering darkness of winter. 

I am thinking now how much I love the seasons and their rhythms. Their moods. Let me be cracked open with that love. Now is the time of the sheltering womb…the darkness of winter. Rest. Slowing down. As I go through these days…as I write…as I work…as I meditate and pray…let me remember to fully receive that deep blessing.

It is a time of moving inward…inward…inward.

It is a time of acknowledging grief…and as the sun begins, as of today, to shed more and more light for us each day…to hold the possibilities of spring.

The light at the end of the tunnel. The light of the new year. Meanwhile, patience and trust. Faith. Carrying a small and steadfast light toward the future.

I am tired of feeling afraid.

I am tired of being on “high alert” and in survival mode for what feels like a long, long time.

So I will do the small things to take care of myself. Doing some work…allowing myself to see what will happen. Opening to exploration. I will allow myself to be tentative…and hopeful…soft, and malleable…moving with what I learn. I will be forgiving toward myself, and kind as I navigate new territory. It seems there is forever a next adventure. (Not such a bad thing, right?)

I will give myself space for creativity…and some sort of movement…and gratitude. Space for cups of tea and meditating and paying attention.

Sometimes panic and anxiety seems to be calling me to rush ahead, to fix, to control. I am so grateful also for what I have learned over these last years about trusting the way things are…and trusting myself. And I am grateful for what I am learning now about cultivating the calm and confidence of feminine wisdom. I am grateful for this ongoing work in breathing, and checking in with my body and listening…being receptive.

Where can I go to create love, acceptance, tenderness, kindness, ease, comfort, joy?

Where to be safe? Where to belong?

Where to be free?

The answer is always an inward journey…to begin there. To do the work required to be rooted in loving and belonging to myself first. It is never to try to control circumstances in the “outside world”. Peace within is not created by a war with “What Is”.

It does not create peace to be at war with my own grief…or anger…or my past…or regret. To accept means to accept the messiness of my own life and my own humanity. I must accept, first, what feels like weakness, shame, incompetence and fear within myself and love all of it. I must begin by loving what feels unacceptable and repulsive before I can begin to create an “outside world” that feels safe to live in.

So I stand.

I breathe.

I let my body sway in prayer and my heart call out as it pleases. Wild. Primal. I begin to let my feet root themselves energetically, deep into the earth. My body, by being, belongs here. 

I am a part of this earth. Held by this earth. Nurtured by her sweet dark soil that grows the plants, by the air I am taking into my lungs, by the fire of the sun and by the phases, the cycles and the moods of the moon. The water of her rivers rush to hydrate me as I stand, my throat opening and my voice humming with the rhythm of her sound. My body is animal. It is welcome here. It is beloved here. 

I need only to be as I am. I need only to sing with her, to feel her vibration to know that I am home.

(With gratitude to Dr. Kate Dow and the lovely women in the Cultivating Calm and Confidence coaching program. Thank you for the techniques and exercises we are learning and for all you do!)

Things are changing in my life right now. 

At the end of the month, I will be moving…heading back to Wisconsin for an undetermined time. I am looking forward to seeing friends and getting some health things checked into by my doctors there.

The vision in my right eye has recently changed. Something happened, an ophthalmologist here in Florida told me, called “ischemic optic neuropathy.” I had some blood tests so that the doctor could know there is no immediate emergency. Now, I am breathing into healing my right eye. My left eye has already had glaucoma for years, so I was distressed at first.

I will be leaving Florida, the tropical climate, and this house  where I have become accustomed to living for the last six months. I will be parting physically from dear friends with whom I have been living and working to create next steps and fresh possibilities…people who have encouraged me and meant a lot to me on my journey.  

I am ready to move on now, into a new perspective–a light at the end of the tunnel around my relationship with money and abundance and how that all happens. I am ready to begin moving from fear into joy…from panic into calm.

Certainly, there are things happening “out there” in the world, too: covid, dissension about the presidential election in our country…all the news.

Life is happening and emotions are swirling. 

Meanwhile, every Tuesday I have been meeting with the women in Dr. Kate Dow’s Cultivating Calm and Confidence Within group coaching program. I’ve been getting in touch with the feminine embodiment of wisdom and intuition. It has been such a blessing and helps me through  the ups and downs. I am learning even more about creating my own sense of safety and equilibrium. My desire, right now, is to create an even deeper connection with my life, my experience, and my freedom.

So I breathe. I remember what I was shown last Tuesday. 

I breathe into my throat chakra. I breathe into my voice.

I breathe into my heart chakra. Acceptance. Forgiveness. Tenderness.

I breathe into my solar plexus chakra. I breathe into the stagnant feelings I have had of powerlessness and fear. I breathe compassion into my solar plexus. Understanding. Love. I breathe compassion into the old searching. Old Shame. Smallness. Feelings of incompetence and “not enough.” 

As I breathe, I remind myself of innocence. Not merely my own innocence, not a personal innocence, but the innocence of everything and everyone.The innocence of the whole experience of life. I breathe into a stability in the solar plexus, a place to stand.

In the end, nothing is separate and nothing is harmed. In the end it is all swirling energy. In the end, where is a judge? 

Feelings are also not “wrong” or “bad”. My entire being is allowed. 

Lastly, I breathe into the sacral chakra; the sacred womb where gestation is happening and the next possibility is preparing to be birthed. I breathe into change and the creative power of imagination. I breathe into not knowing.

I am grateful for all that is happening in my life. I am grateful for all that I am being shown and for the sisterhood of the women in this group. Doors are closing and doors are opening. I am looking forward to the new year.

What I am feeling this morning is that it is time. After all this time I have spent wandering in my own personal desert…acknowledging my thirst…my desires…acknowledging my fear…and after all this time learning to care for myself and to call out to God…

It is time to stand and say “yes” to my life. This life with its precarious edges and its uncertainty  and its call to explore.

It is time to stop being envious of those I see choosing their lives and thriving and being happy. It is time for me to choose mine. This story–with its twists and turns and the choices I have made is my story. It is time to own it.

I do not yet know what my life will look like in December. I do not yet know where I will be living or what I will be doing. In a month…what will my day-to-day life look like?

I did not know when the year began that this year would bring pandemic…and this house in Florida…and the housemates I am sharing this space with now.

I did not know, either, that at this point it would still feel as if I have been struggling so much–with focus…with direction…with my intentions. And with my fears.

Am I a writer? Am I a coach? Am I a copywriter? Where can I serve? How can I be useful? How can I contribute?

And what am I willing to do to reach the next place in my life? How am I willing to step out and test the waters? Because it feels as if something has still been holding back. Something has still been distracted and disoriented and thrashing about up until now.

“I can’t.”

“It’s too big.”

“It’s too much.”

“I don’t know how.”

“It’s too late.”

“I’m too old.”

“I’m not ready.”

And then the words from a deep place in a hidden corner in the darkness: “Who do you think you are?”

To be powerful. To decide what’s important to you in your own life. To risk. To ever have stopped playing it safe. To climb out of your box…out of your cage. Who do you think you are?

So I sat with these words…this onslaught…on Tuesday in the Cultivating Calm and Confidence Within group coaching session. And I breathed the words out into hands cupped in front of my heart. Practicing to let go.

Was there a sudden miracle? Not so much. But I saw something.

I saw that “after all this time”…after this time I am calling wandering through my personal desert and doing the work I’ve been doing…I was still “dealing with” and being held back by these thoughts–these thoughts that something inside me is quite aware are bullshit. And I was irritated. And I was frustrated. I was angry. And when I spoke the truth about it…I cried…and something was ashamed of that, too.

Shame. Blame. Not good enough. Dr. Kate helped me see it…to find all of that in my body…to breathe into it…and be kind. She helped me acknowledge the road I’ve traveled and the exquisite beauty of where I am right now. 

There are lessons we can learn in our heads…but if we are not finding them in our body, then they are lost to us. I was reminded how wise the body is…and to return there. Again. And again.

In the body is gentleness…tenderness…the perfection of the moment. My practice is to keep returning.

I am loving Dr. Kate Dow’s coaching program: Cultivating Calm and Confidence Within.

In the first session we talked about the Queen archetype, and what that means to us. This past Tuesday we talked about the “Princess”. The Princess is the child or young woman in us who has not yet grown into her sovereignty. She is more dependent…and she wants to please. She wants the people around her to be happy with her. And she wants to be taken care of, as she does not yet realize her own resourcefulness.

The Princess is still looking to the outside world to tell her she is enough. She is striving to learn and to measure up.

I feel as if I lived deeply in the Princess phase for a long time in my life. I was looking to following the rules in order to succeed. I was looking to “acceptable behavior” to protect me and keep me safe. (So of course I had to guess what other people thought was “acceptable”.) I trusted the outside world more than I trusted my own inner guidance.

What I found over and over again is that believing in my weakness sets me up for victimhood. It sets me up to blame someone else for the way my life is going.

And the answer to the quandary is not to blame or ostracize the Princess.

During the coaching session we were guided to finding this part of ourselves in our bodies. For me, she was in my heart center. She was seeking out her mother and wanting to be loved. 

Breathing into that and allowing myself to feel it, my response became compassion. Compassion for how hard she has worked to prove herself and to be “good”. Compassion for how long she has been terrified…and resentful…and full of rage.

How could I not want to hold this child in my heart and comfort her?

How could I not appreciate her resilience? Her utter exhaustion? She has been a necessary part of my growth process. And, by the way, she has not been “conquered” or “transcended.” She is being integrated as I accept her as a natural part of my journey.

So I breathe. I find her in my body. I am learning to listen to her. She is not gone. In uncertain times she comes to me, to the mother aspect of me, the Queen,  for reassurance. I am learning to give her reassurance, and to give her the love that no one else actually can.

Yesterday I attended my first “Cultivating Calm and Confidence” group coaching session. (What a marvelous experience I had with those beautiful women!) This morning I am looking at a question Dr. Kate Dow left us with:

What is the energy of the Queen archetype?

To me, a Queen is wise. She weighs her options and is guided by her intuition. She has an inner strength that runs deep. She is resourceful. She gathers those around her whose ideas and counsel she respects. She is open and receptive to ways of thinking that differ from her own–and she is cognizant of being a leader. Ultimately the decisions are hers. Ultimately she knows she is the one who is responsible. 

A Queen respects herself. She is aware of her boundaries and she upholds them. Her bearing is poised. Her confidence is a reassuring light for those around her. She is gracious. She has no need to compete with anyone because she knows her own worth. 

She is the ruler of her inner Queendom…and that expresses itself gently but firmly in the outer world. Her motivation is love–love for herself and love for others.

A Queen is bold. She is courageous. Her resourcefulness allows her to make tough choices. She is led by her heart.

A Queen is willing to go through her dark night of the soul over and over again to find her answers. And she is a warrior. She does not require others to do what she would not. She is fierce when necessary. When she moves, she moves from clarity.

So now I am curious to hear, especially from the women, what Queen means to you.

What do you think a Queen is? Tap into your inner Queen and let me know in the comments.

“Today, like every other day,

We wake up empty and frightened.

Don’t open the door to the study

and begin reading.

Take down a musical instrument.

Let the be beauty we love

be what we do.

There are a hundred ways

to kneel and kiss the ground.”

~Rumi

One of my first thoughts when I read this again the other morning is how sweetly human it is. I feel seen…acknowledged. I wonder how many of you out there feel the same, especially in these uncertain times, as you rise to greet another day.

I, too, wake up empty–and frightened–and looking for a way to pull myself back to center. What I love about this is the realization that it’s actually normal. And it’s nothing so serious…nothing so weird.

Another thought I had when I read this poem was that I wished I played a musical instrument. Isn’t that funny? My head, at first, rushes to “Not good enough.” 

But Rumi tells us here that there are a hundred ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

Pen and paper are musical instruments for me. They’re how I get in touch with how I feel. 

And I can listen to music. I can dance in the privacy of my own room.

There are a hundred ways to get in touch with gratitude…and devotion…and the beauty of what we love.

Some, I notice, bake beautiful fresh breads.

For others, a morning walk, or feeling their toes in the sand at the beach is the way they kneel and kiss the ground.

Noticing the moon…and the planets…the stars…constellations…is another way.

It could be any small ritual for which you are truly present.

Even the simple act of making the bed in the morning with attention…and gratitude for a night’s rest, can be a way to let the beauty of what we love be what we do.

Lighting a candle. Whispering a prayer.

The point, for me, was that I needn’t be discouraged by the idea that I may have to come back to my touchstones over and over again: paying attention to my breath, writing, dancing–whatever it is–and to know that I can be okay with that. Can we be okay if every morning we feel a bit scattered, lost…uncertain…and we have to gently bring ourselves back to the place where we’re seeing the beauty in life?

Can it be okay if every morning we feel a little darkness as we rise to face another day…and we take down our musical instrument, whatever it is…and begin to play?