Elizabeth, Thank you for this, I have been hitting walls a long time. With the move to NC I have been trying to find where I am to be and what I should be doing; How I can contribute to the light and love the world needs. I wonder how often I have failed to hear the still small voice. It seems like I need to be patient and listen instead of trying anything and everything. I so very much value all you have shared with those of us who have found you and what you are bringing to us.
I join Lauren in congratulating the nonprofit status and finding the support you need. Love and Light.
thank you, for your gracious words, for your honesty and for your courage to try new ways, JD. What we were handed didn't work for so many of us. It is a relief to find ways that do and a joy to have others with whom to share the journey! with love and light
Elizabeth, thanks so much for your invitations and your vulnerability and your hard work of sharing your creative writing. Many of us are searching for those who speak our language, understand our history or live among similar images. Even when we find some of those people, life is weaving herself in and out of relationships all the time, experiences building on the past like multicolored and layered rock, some becoming hardened and fixed. At least that is how my life is. That which was once alive gets crystalized into an angel and can no longer live and breathe the same air.
I too have had a dream about a lion a few years ago but it is still iconic for me. I'd love to hear about yours. Thanks for the beautiful lion image. Peace.
That which was once alive gets crystalized into an angel and can no longer live and breathe the same air. What a powerful insight to sit with, thank you. And the cruelest part is that no one announces it. You go on speaking to the person, or the place, or the belief, and only later notice you've been speaking to stone.
And yes — searching for people who speak your language, who know your history, who live among the same images. That longing isn't a small thing, and it's most of why the circles exist.
Ah lion dreams. I'm finding words to share them, possibly even this week...stay tuned. And if that doesn't happen in a post, I'll be happy to come back and share with you. And I'd love to hear yours — a dream that's stayed iconic for years came for a reason.
Peace to you too, Nancy, and thank you for sharing this journey and your own stirrings along the way.
I’ve been following your sharings for several years now but have never commented on anything. This is different, and it resonates so deeply. At first I thought “ah, the long part, that’s where I am right now, that makes sense.” But now it’s almost more like “oh, I’m at the end of a very long long part and what’s to come is perhaps not what I imagined and it is terrifying.”
Grateful for you, your wisdom so generously offered, and your companionship on the journey.
Beau, thank you for saying this — and for the years of quiet reading before it.
That shift you're describing is real, and it's not a smaller thing than the long part. It might be a bigger one. The long part has a certain grim comfort to it: you know where you are. The end of it doesn't. And when what's coming isn't what you imagined, there's nothing to brace against — which is its own kind of terrifying.
I don't have anything to make that easier, and I don't think it's meant to be easier. But I'd say this: the not-what-I-imagined part is usually where it actually gets real. Imagination works from what we already know. What's coming rarely does.
I'm glad you're here, and glad you said it out loud. And most of all — thank you for being present with yourself as you walk this, and for sharing it so honestly. I'm grateful.
I'm trying really hard to remain standing at the gate, in the gate, to be patient, to not retreat, to have faith that the answers will come, to allow the future to unfold. I loved your writing this week. It resonated deeply (it often does). Thank you.
Thank you, Ally, for the courage to name this. It is hard to be patient, to be fully present with what is rather than rush to anticipate, force clarity before its time. Grateful to you for your honesty and your faithfulness to yourself and this unfolding way.
The words you put together are interesting and thought provoking. Not necessarily a message for or to me, interesting.
I did recognize "the long part" and your means of staying with it however tedious or aching or unpleasant. A good walk or jog or bike ride or immersion in a task moves things around. Sometimes an easy process. Practice helps.
Chimayo! Lions! Hearts! Oh my! Yes, Elizabeth. As you know, I'm in a similar place, though I think I'm still in the long part. On the pilgrimage we talked about thresholds and being on a threshold and what we needed to call in to help us move all the way through. I don't have the vision you do - I don't see through walls, but I do know something is coming, just not what. One of my fears is that I will be too busy to see it or I will not be doing the right thing at the right time or open to something that wasn't what I was expecting and I'll miss it. This week I wrote to our realtor - right house (maybe) but wrong timing. We're passing on a house that has the potential to be the perfect place for our children to grow up, but with my upcoming ankle surgery, it's not a good time for moving at all, much less moving into a place that would require a lot of work to make into our dream house. (And we're not house working on kinds of people even if we had time!)
This reminds me of the gospel reading for Sunday - Peter. He certainly had his share of failures. Jumping in and getting it wrong. Or getting it right and then forgetting. And look how he was able to use all those experiences later. Thank you for your vision, your heart that you share so generously, and for all that you keep doing to birth this work which is essentially love, love for ourselves, love for others, love for creation, the love of all that is. So much love!
Lauren. Yes — Chimayo! That gate has been sitting in my photos and it turned out to belong to this week.
You say you don't see through walls, and then in the next breath you say you know something is coming, just not what. I want to say something about that, because I think those are the same thing. I didn't see her either. I had no idea who she would be, or where she'd come from. I just knew. Knowing without seeing isn't a lesser kind of vision — it may be the truer one.
And that fear, of being too busy to notice, or not open enough, or not doing the right thing at the right hour, and missing it. I know that one from the inside. But here's what the long part taught me: it doesn't come when we first need it, when we think we are ready for the new to come in. And nothing can make it come sooner. It comes when the long has had its way with us, when something opens in us that is prepared to receive all that has been coming to us in the dark and hard. The right person or situation and the right moment met. You can't miss what's actually yours by being tired, or busy, or recovering from surgery.
Which brings me to the house. Lauren — you did the thing. Right house, wrong timing, and you said no to something good rather than hurrying through the gate just because it stood open. That's exactly the courage I was writing about. It doesn't feel like courage. It feels like loss. But refusing to force it is the practice.
And Peter. Getting it wrong, getting it right and then forgetting, and all of it becoming what he had to give later. That's the whole thing, isn't it. None of it wasted.
Sending love to you, and to that ankle. May the recovery be gentler than you're bracing for. In fact, when you notice the bracing, see if you can soften that reflex just a little. That may be the biggest practice of this season. Can you trust that even this is part of what is having its way within you for your own good and the good of all?
Thank you for your generous and open-hearted response. I receive all that you shared with gratitude.
Elizabeth, Thank you for this, I have been hitting walls a long time. With the move to NC I have been trying to find where I am to be and what I should be doing; How I can contribute to the light and love the world needs. I wonder how often I have failed to hear the still small voice. It seems like I need to be patient and listen instead of trying anything and everything. I so very much value all you have shared with those of us who have found you and what you are bringing to us.
I join Lauren in congratulating the nonprofit status and finding the support you need. Love and Light.
thank you, for your gracious words, for your honesty and for your courage to try new ways, JD. What we were handed didn't work for so many of us. It is a relief to find ways that do and a joy to have others with whom to share the journey! with love and light
Elizabeth, thanks so much for your invitations and your vulnerability and your hard work of sharing your creative writing. Many of us are searching for those who speak our language, understand our history or live among similar images. Even when we find some of those people, life is weaving herself in and out of relationships all the time, experiences building on the past like multicolored and layered rock, some becoming hardened and fixed. At least that is how my life is. That which was once alive gets crystalized into an angel and can no longer live and breathe the same air.
I too have had a dream about a lion a few years ago but it is still iconic for me. I'd love to hear about yours. Thanks for the beautiful lion image. Peace.
Thank you for this.
That which was once alive gets crystalized into an angel and can no longer live and breathe the same air. What a powerful insight to sit with, thank you. And the cruelest part is that no one announces it. You go on speaking to the person, or the place, or the belief, and only later notice you've been speaking to stone.
And yes — searching for people who speak your language, who know your history, who live among the same images. That longing isn't a small thing, and it's most of why the circles exist.
Ah lion dreams. I'm finding words to share them, possibly even this week...stay tuned. And if that doesn't happen in a post, I'll be happy to come back and share with you. And I'd love to hear yours — a dream that's stayed iconic for years came for a reason.
Peace to you too, Nancy, and thank you for sharing this journey and your own stirrings along the way.
I’ve been following your sharings for several years now but have never commented on anything. This is different, and it resonates so deeply. At first I thought “ah, the long part, that’s where I am right now, that makes sense.” But now it’s almost more like “oh, I’m at the end of a very long long part and what’s to come is perhaps not what I imagined and it is terrifying.”
Grateful for you, your wisdom so generously offered, and your companionship on the journey.
Beau, thank you for saying this — and for the years of quiet reading before it.
That shift you're describing is real, and it's not a smaller thing than the long part. It might be a bigger one. The long part has a certain grim comfort to it: you know where you are. The end of it doesn't. And when what's coming isn't what you imagined, there's nothing to brace against — which is its own kind of terrifying.
I don't have anything to make that easier, and I don't think it's meant to be easier. But I'd say this: the not-what-I-imagined part is usually where it actually gets real. Imagination works from what we already know. What's coming rarely does.
I'm glad you're here, and glad you said it out loud. And most of all — thank you for being present with yourself as you walk this, and for sharing it so honestly. I'm grateful.
I'm trying really hard to remain standing at the gate, in the gate, to be patient, to not retreat, to have faith that the answers will come, to allow the future to unfold. I loved your writing this week. It resonated deeply (it often does). Thank you.
Thank you, Ally, for the courage to name this. It is hard to be patient, to be fully present with what is rather than rush to anticipate, force clarity before its time. Grateful to you for your honesty and your faithfulness to yourself and this unfolding way.
Dear Tribal person,
The words you put together are interesting and thought provoking. Not necessarily a message for or to me, interesting.
I did recognize "the long part" and your means of staying with it however tedious or aching or unpleasant. A good walk or jog or bike ride or immersion in a task moves things around. Sometimes an easy process. Practice helps.
Thank you...practice does indeed help. And I agree, moving our bodies or being really present to something also helps shift what needs shifting.
Chimayo! Lions! Hearts! Oh my! Yes, Elizabeth. As you know, I'm in a similar place, though I think I'm still in the long part. On the pilgrimage we talked about thresholds and being on a threshold and what we needed to call in to help us move all the way through. I don't have the vision you do - I don't see through walls, but I do know something is coming, just not what. One of my fears is that I will be too busy to see it or I will not be doing the right thing at the right time or open to something that wasn't what I was expecting and I'll miss it. This week I wrote to our realtor - right house (maybe) but wrong timing. We're passing on a house that has the potential to be the perfect place for our children to grow up, but with my upcoming ankle surgery, it's not a good time for moving at all, much less moving into a place that would require a lot of work to make into our dream house. (And we're not house working on kinds of people even if we had time!)
This reminds me of the gospel reading for Sunday - Peter. He certainly had his share of failures. Jumping in and getting it wrong. Or getting it right and then forgetting. And look how he was able to use all those experiences later. Thank you for your vision, your heart that you share so generously, and for all that you keep doing to birth this work which is essentially love, love for ourselves, love for others, love for creation, the love of all that is. So much love!
Lauren. Yes — Chimayo! That gate has been sitting in my photos and it turned out to belong to this week.
You say you don't see through walls, and then in the next breath you say you know something is coming, just not what. I want to say something about that, because I think those are the same thing. I didn't see her either. I had no idea who she would be, or where she'd come from. I just knew. Knowing without seeing isn't a lesser kind of vision — it may be the truer one.
And that fear, of being too busy to notice, or not open enough, or not doing the right thing at the right hour, and missing it. I know that one from the inside. But here's what the long part taught me: it doesn't come when we first need it, when we think we are ready for the new to come in. And nothing can make it come sooner. It comes when the long has had its way with us, when something opens in us that is prepared to receive all that has been coming to us in the dark and hard. The right person or situation and the right moment met. You can't miss what's actually yours by being tired, or busy, or recovering from surgery.
Which brings me to the house. Lauren — you did the thing. Right house, wrong timing, and you said no to something good rather than hurrying through the gate just because it stood open. That's exactly the courage I was writing about. It doesn't feel like courage. It feels like loss. But refusing to force it is the practice.
And Peter. Getting it wrong, getting it right and then forgetting, and all of it becoming what he had to give later. That's the whole thing, isn't it. None of it wasted.
Sending love to you, and to that ankle. May the recovery be gentler than you're bracing for. In fact, when you notice the bracing, see if you can soften that reflex just a little. That may be the biggest practice of this season. Can you trust that even this is part of what is having its way within you for your own good and the good of all?
Thank you for your generous and open-hearted response. I receive all that you shared with gratitude.
With love
Oh, and welcome to Andrea and Ani - and congrats on the nonprofit status. So many good things!
joy!