These last few days have been intense.
I think that there are times when we hit a portal, an invitation. Yes, even here where life is oh so sweet.
It is as though we have coasted for a while, settled - and all of a sudden it’s time for us to reach a new level. A new level of clarity, of honesty, of self-knowing.
These times are rarely comfortable. They often come with some chaos - internal or external or both - Possibly some angst and maybe even a whiff of panic. Many more questions than answers. Doubts, too.
We question our decisions, recent and those far behind us. We may lose track of our core. It is time to choose our tools carefully and use them pointedly.
For me, safe and wise ears always help. Recognizing that my Lizard is activated and will go back to sleep is reassuring.
And then, writing. Writing, writing, writing. Giving it all to the paper. The mundane, the embarrassing, the obvious, the pieces that I have known forever ushering the pieces that are just now daring to show up.
Truths which may have been with us for decades but which we never allowed ourselves to look in the eyes and speak out loud. Truths of which the time has come to bring to the light, hold hands with, and dance with. Authentically.
Truths that will allow us to grow to that next step. To live more brightly, more freely, more generously, too.
These portals are not easy. Giving into them requires courage, support and trust.
But holding back and refusing the invitation can be a death sentence of our soul’s brightness.
On the other side of two huge lessons, I am a little tired and a lot grateful. I feel as though I have received a life chiropractic adjustment. Or a giant internal week-long yoga session.
The road ahead is new, fresh, and honest.
if you feel the invitation to step, crawl, swim, dance or stumble through a new portal, I invite you to heed it. On the other side, a bigger and brighter you awaits.
Smiling because it knows that you are ready for it.
I just heard that today is international Holocaust day.
I can barely write the word Holocaust.
My throat tightens.
My chest gets heavy.
A flood of un spilled tears threatens to flood.
My DNA raises its fist, wrings its hands, sighs the deepest sigh.
The grief scares me.
It has nowhere to go. It hasn’t been taught.
It has not been given an invitation, nor a safe place.
From my Mexican hammock I physically feel a truth that spans many lands.
And I don’t know what the f*** to do with it.
Walking on the beach at the end of the day, I encounter a young woman creating what looks like a runway, in the sand.
She is swiftly working on connecting an area quite a bit higher on the beach - where several women are sitting, talking animatedly - and the ocean. Smoothing the sand with her hands, smiling.
As I get closer I realize that she is barely staying one step ahead of a TINY little turtle, who obviously has some place to be, and wants to get there fast.
I knew about turtles hatching on the beach and I had seen the signs to not disturb the many nests. But I had never seen, never felt, this miracle.
The size of a child’s palm, I am told the he had just hatched minutes ago, ahead of the other 13 eggs which the women were carefully guarding. Out of his egg, he immediately turned its tiny prehistoric-looking-yet-so-very-new body towards the big ocean, and was making its way towards it.
Without a thought, I dropped onto my knees to follow his first big adventure, my heart still and so full, knowing I was witnessing something sacred, something that I was privileged to be allowed to see, something that has been going on forever.
One of the women arrived by my side, obviously much more savvy about what was happening than I was, and quietly told me that this turtle would come back at this exact spot, 15 years from now, to hatch her own eggs.
Like I said, sacred.
Sacred and yet so full of energy. Several times, The Little One decided to veer to the left, climbing over the sandy mound that was supposed to mark his smooth, unencumbered highway. He (she?) was focused, very focused. There was a huge sense of purpose, and yet also a sense of play. Or maybe I made that up. Heck, I know nothing about sea turtles, just that … wow. It was huge.
Little by little, he got closer to the waves, and big waves they were.
How was this going to work? We all held our breaths.
I’ll let you watch the video now because there really is nothing I can say that is going to add to seeing it.
SEE IT HERE
And at the end, if you listen carefully over the sound of the waves, you might hear a voice - certainly a mom’s voice - call out: Make Good Choices, Little One!
Life is so darn rich.
(and this was so very good that I somehow left my driver’s license in the sand, that night. But that’s another story, another magical story)
SCARED OF THE SACRED