The morning is thick with last night’s rain dressed up as morning dew and the thirsty little seedlings and sprouts in my garden are so very grateful.
It’s been a wild month. From talent shows to birthdays, I feel like every second of every day was jam packed with “to dos” and I am grateful for this window of slow that seems to be revealing itself.
The last time I wrote to you, I shared the idea of surrendering to the flow and it got me to thinking; if there is, in fact, a flow, where does it come from?
A lot of spiritual teachers talk about meditation as a silent stillness, a vast vacuity, of nothingness. A blank slate.
And that could be true. I think I’ve perhaps glimpsed something of the sort once or twice. But I find myself wondering if that nothingness doesn’t live within something even bigger, something like everythingess. Something like the source. Something like God.
But what might it look like if we stopped trying to define it? Stopped the story of what we’ve learned or been told, and simply rested in “It” whatever “It” might be?
The allness. The oneness. The everything, everywhere, all at once? (Great movie, by the way, if you haven’t yet seen it).
In Rick Ruben’s new book, The Creative Act: A Way of Being, he poetically suggests this space of vastness is where creativity arises, going on to state that “our” creations aren’t necessarily generated by us, but are instead, something we capture.
Much like the breeze pushes through the trees, creating song and dance of their leaves, our creations flow through us.
I love that idea because it means that, while we cannot control what happens to us, we do get to decide which story or song we catch, which version of ourselves we will nurture.
And just as art can’t be “wrong”, there is no mistake in our stories, just attachment to one of the infinite variations of who we could be.
So today, as the sun kisses the earth, may you catch the breeze in your hair. May you welcome the flow of “It” through your soul. May you taste freedom.
Heart in my hand in yours,
