Standing on the edge of my new life
+ intuitive writing class this Sunday
Bay Area folks! I am teaching an Intuitive Writing class at Indigo Yoga Studio in Walnut Creek this Sunday, May 5th, from 2:00 to 3:30 p.m. I invite you to join me at this charming studio for a delightful conversation with yourself and others. You do not have to be a member to sign up for the class.
I hope to see you there!
I sit at a crossroads, a place that is asking me to awaken to the present moment and inviting me to delve deeper into the unknown.
Do I have the courage to have a deeper conversation with myself, in that nameless place, to feel fully the complete absence of you and the remainder of me?
I fear what I do not know. I turn away from the discomfort, from the unfamiliar.
Yet, I am invited into the beauty and terror of the dark woods. I am in the middle of the road, standing on the edge of that narrow place of my new life.
I sit on the earth, grounding my feet. I wait patiently for Diego, with his shiny blue, vibrant coat, rust-orange vest, and blue throat, and Pale Penny, with her gray buff, breast of fair orange wash, and wings and tail of blue tints.
Soon, the dark-eyed juncos, with their round heads, pale bills, long tails of white feathers, puffy sides, and white bellies, will venture down for a live spread of mealworms.
I have yet to identify other surrounding species but am familiar with them by song.
I listen like a bell ringing to the familiar sound of the red-winged blackbirds, with their red patched shoulders that flash when they fly, calling to one another from the tall grasses, settled in the corners, swaying in the breeze, their sound familiar in the fortunes of the fields.
The days are getting longer. The wave of nostalgia ripples as time passes, and I find myself alone again in a world I am still trying to understand.
I am learning to embrace the presence, to follow the path of vulnerability, and to awaken to the life that awaits me.
I recognize I am in the dark woods and welcome the sense of freedom when I realize that I am not actually supposed to know what lies ahead.
All I am meant to do is ground into the earth beneath my feet, into the steadiness and sureness of my being.
I am meant to practice opening to the world and learn to lay down my defenses toward the sincere path of love and loss, knowing my heart will be broken along the way.
I taste the courage, and I am curious to answer its call. But to delve into the great unknown is what I once feared most.
The bell of my belly reminds me that I do not walk alone and am accompanied by every friendship in every corner of the world and every corner of the universe.
It reminds me that to awaken to the beauty and terror of this moment, I must take on the courage to have the conversation with the one inside who sits in waiting.
To the radiance, I can't see but have always carried with me. That asks me to awaken to the great unknown, surrender to what waits on the other side, to the bell and the sound of the red-winged blackbird calling me home to the greatest harvest of my life.
Thank you, as always, for being here.
The only cure for grief, is grief itself. - David Whyte
I share this incredible conversation with Tami Simon and the poet and author David Whyte.
They talk about the courageous conversation we can have with ourselves and the unknown, following the path of grief, and the bravery to feel your regret to the fullest and how it opens you to live fully now. David Whyte also reads his poem, The bell and the blackbird, which inspired my piece. I invite you to listen to the podcast, and David read the poem (link below in the title of the poem). His captivating and charming voice, poetry, and wisdom are soothing meditations and have gotten me through many hard moments.
The bell and the blackbird
by David Whyte
The sound of a bell
Still reverberating,
or a blackbird calling
from a corner of the field,
asking you to wake
into this life,
or inviting you deeper
into the one that waits.
Either way
takes courage,
either way wants you
to be nothing
but that self that
is no self at all,
wants you to walk
to the place
where you find
you already know
how to give
every last thing
away.
The approach
that is also
the meeting
itself,
without any
meeting
at all.
That radiance
you have always
carried with you
as you walk
both alone
and completely
accompanied
in friendship
by every corner
of the world
crying
Allelujah.
Writing Prompts
Some potential jump-off lines to ignite your writing:
asking you to wake
inviting you deeper into
the radiance you have always carried with you
Grab a pen and paper or your favorite journal. Begin with one or more of the prompts. Use them as a starting point, repeat them throughout your writing.
Set your timer. Write for 15 minutes, pen never leaving the page.
.
This is beautiful, Dina. Thank you for this gentle nudge to look into ourselves and write through it.