The Spacious Breath of Summer

The summer solstice approaches in days. The growing light is beginning to shed light onto the landscape of my life. Sometimes the summer sun is harsh. It's at full power. It burns. That which has been veiled by the shadow of wishful thinking, is revealed for the reality of what is.

Last night, the light took the form of the proverbial lightening flash. In the dark, a flash of recognition flashed so bright and with such declaration that my whole world seemed revealed to me in a new way . . . not as I was wanting it to be, but as it was. The illumination of the lightening against the dark night was as terrifying as it was life giving. There it was. The "aha" moment. The world revealed in all its splendour, not as the Disneyland dream vacation, but the realness it tries so hard to evoke. And since when did reality take on such a negative connotation anyway?

It doesn't matter the dream versus the reality. Apply your own. Ideas that don't match with what the world is offering. Expectations that disappoint or veil us from seeing what's before us to the point that we reject or refuse what's being offered rather than receiving it.

Following the lightening revelation of my night, I, as I often do, went to walk with my dog near the water, to get more clear on my vision. As the bay waters lapped rhythmically onto the rocky shore, I committed myself to something. I committed myself to a spacious summer. I mean, isn't that the very idea of summer? Isn't that what we are seeking in the sort of elusive holy grail of our idea of what summer should be? Summer is that brilliant pause. The pause between "years" (because, don't we all in some way still operate on the school year so ingrained in our nature at a young age?) And what is a pause but space?

With our cells calling out for this pause in the year, we plan our vacations; attend our picnics; scoot out of work early; dream of heat and lightening bugs and lazily passing the time on a porch swing with a bell jar of lemonade watching distant storm clouds gather.

What do all those notions point to? A need for space. Space between obligations and responsibilities. Space to dream, think, sit, play, remember our freedom. Space to slow down and see our world and and our life as it is and as we desire it to be. But to really give space to something, we have to know where we are beginning. Really.

I'm committing my summer to spaciousness. To "opening to Grace." To softening up the preconceived of what I want; the preconceived of what anything is "supposed" to look like; the preconceived notion that I can bulldoze anything into submission; the preconceived that I can engage something without feeling it out first.

So, it is to this pause, this spaciousness, that I commit my attention this summer. In other words, I'm committed to taking a symbolic breath. I'm taking a 10-week breath in fact. Interestingly, when we take in our breath, we're adding something in that creates a spaciousness. You would think that a feeling of spaciousness would be associated with the exhale. We are, after all, emptying ourselves, and yet, the physical act of exhaling draws us in and compacts us a bit, even as we are releasing something. And what of the pause between the two. Space. So my summer? One big spacious breath made up of many parts.

Contemplating this, I've created The 10 R's of Spaciousness for myself. Each week, beginning on a Sunday, I'll write about that week's focus for opening myself up to what the world and my life are offering me. Because opening myself to that will truly be the only way that I can begin to step into those currents in ways that are affirming in my life; in ways that enhance and expand me rather than diminish me.

Welcome to my summer.

The Moment the SOL stands STILL

I woke up yesterday morning to see the last full moon of the solar year (the Cold Moon) still hanging in the sky. At 5 a.m., the dark was still unpenetrable but for the silver light raining down from Grandmother Moon. A few hours later, as the daylight begins to emerge, I know that the darkness will recapture today surprisingly quick, and once again, Grandmother will reveal herself once more but for a little piece she'll cloak until January.

I adore this time of year. In one short week, we'll reach what the Celts called Midwinter (did you know that in the Celtic calendar, winter begins November 1?). The Winter Solstice. The moment the "sol stands still."

Sol, of course, means sun, but as the days wain, I've been contemplating the idea of a moment when the SOUL stands still. Is it, in fact, possible or even desirable?

When our sun hangs for that one moment seemingly unmoving, we know that it is a constantly throbbing orb of fire. In every moment there is the pulsation of expansion and contraction. Likewise, even in the stillest, quietest moment, even in the deepest meditation, our spirit dances with the delight of this divine and playful dance.

Last year, I spent the Winter Solstice in Ghana, West Africa. Ghana is so close to the equator that the sun seems to stand still all year. It's either up or down. You miss out on the middle places. Twelve hours of light. Twelve hours of dark. There you go.
You never notice light waining from day to day, or the blessed moment when it begins to make its return. I really missed that.

So, this year, there's that extra relishing. I'm spending extra time savoring the darkness as it grows this week towards the inevitable and equally savory moment that the light begins to recapture the darkness until the cycle starts all over again in June.

The day the SOL stands STILL is a perfect opportunity to create ritual around your own inner renewal; to exhale with the year; to notice the pause; and then, to inhale the light once more.

The Seven Year Itch

Okay.
Officially ridiculous. Not posting since January 9 and it's December 12.
Some blogger I've turned out to be.

What can I say? I came back from Africa exhausted, which lasted until May, when I realized that I had actually entered a new 7-year cycle of my life (see how tired I was? I didn't realize I had entered my 42nd year of life until 5 months later!), and went into official hibernation. After seven years of massive expansion, I was and am ready for a quiter deepening time.

Seven year cycles. Heard of these? My teacher talks of all sorts of life cycles--1 year, 3 year, 5 years, 7, 10 . . . My head tends to swim thinking that in any moment we're practically starting, stopping, and in the middle of any number of cycles. If so, do they matter? Do they matter equally? Does one trump another?

I have my own theory. I do go with the 7 year time frame as one of particular importance. As I look over the course of my own life, starting around year 14, I see a pattern. Frankly, I don't think our patterns establish themselves until then, and this, of course, is based on my massive research of, well, me. As an aside, my daughter turned 14 two days ago. Wonder what pattern she'll start out with? I'll get back with you all a few cycles from now.

Oh, yeah, back to the 7-year pattern. Don't you think it's true? How else did they come up with the term "7 year Itch"? For me, they've gone in patterns of deepening or expanding. Patterns of periods of introspection and intimacy in small groups, going deeper into what is established; and then, patterns of taking in all that is new, establishing new ways of being and doing, new friends and relationships. Within any one pattern, the other exists. But, one predominates.

Now you understand my hibernation? I had to figure all this out. For the first part of the year, I was living as if I was still in massive expansion mode, and felt totally misaligned, But, I couldn't put my finger on where I was going wrong. I wasn't really listening to my energy. My energy was saying, "Please, take sometime to enjoy all you have established. Savor the flavor of all that you have grown into." Yet, my body and mindset were still out in radical expansion mode. Not a good mix.

It really is about recognizing where we are energetically, and then stepping into the life that meets up with that. Isn't that what we mean by "go with the flow?" To align with what is life enhancing in any moment or cycle? To say the Big Yes to what's being offered?

Hey, could one of you give me a heads up in 2014?

Friends in Hats

This is Jessica and Kate from the "Junior Mavericks" (aka Hasmal Ladies). Both girls are 13 and travel more than an hour each way from their village to Takoradi in order to practice soccer. Jessica, in the center, was the first to start calling me Auntie Abby.

An Elvis Sighting in Cape Coast

Happy New Year from Ghana!
And as they say so poetically here,
"May the year come round to meet you."

It's an overcast day in Takoradi, which is perfect for today's upcoming soccer match with the Hasmal Ladies U13 soccer team. In our first match last week, we won 2-0. However, now our Hasmal Ladies have the new equipment we brought them, and we'll have to watch out!

Yesterday, New Year's Eve, we went en masse to Cape Coast Castle, the main slave export center of Western Africa during those horrible years. Much emotion, and I will definitely share this experience soon.

Today, the castle is dedicated to two things primarily: remembering and encouraging that we are all one family; and secondly, local handcrafts. The crafts sold here are high quality and, actually, quite good prices despite their presence in a more touristy area. Upon entering one wood carving shop, I struck up a conversation with the young shop keeper, Elvis. Gotta love the name seeing as I was born in Memphis! Elvis and his 80-year-old grandfather live in a nearby village and carved everything in the shop. It's wonderful to actually meet the artists and he was able to point to different pieces and give me an idea of how many days they took to make. Asked how long he had been carving he replied, "I've been cutting my hands my whole life."

Grace and team member Frances were also with me. I told him we were from California and the girls play football, as it is called here. Suddenly his face lit up! "I heard about you on television! You came to play matches in Takoradi. I wanted to travel there to meet you and see the match, but it couldn't happen. Now you are all in my shop! You've come to my shop!"
I went into the courtyard to gather as many of the team as I could. We squeezed in one after the other, buying carvings from Elvis, we making his day, and he making ours.

There in the shadow of horror, we came together through sport and art, and were healed a bit from what we had seen and experienced earlier in the day.

Visiting the Egyam Orphanage

It's been a very emotional day for me.
Earlier, I attended the opening of the Egyam Orphanage in the village of Egyam.
It's very bittersweet to attend the opening of an orphanage.
I try to focus on the happiness.
Behind me was a 13 year old boy named Emmanual.
He was ecstatic to have a new home.
Emmanuel's father drowned while fishing, and his mother died of an unnamed disease.
He's been without parents or any extended family since 2003.

The Mavericks (our soccer team) brought along a supply of food staples for the orphanage, as well as books, clothes, and a few toys and soccer balls. The founder of the home, a woman from Denmark, was moved to tears, as were we all.

Later, watching the long speeches, a tiny 2-year old girl climbed into my lap.
She immediately melded her tiny form to mine.
I could tell that she was very rarely held.
She totally received it, laying motionless against me.
Later, we shifted postitions so she was chest to chest looking over my shoulder.
She quietly stroked by back.
I don't know her name, but I will never forget how she received all I had to offer, a warm body to hug, will all of herself.

She is only one of millions of children on this continent who need to be held.

Poetic Young Footballers

"When you see the sun rise in the East,
know that it is none other than the Hasmal Ladies welcoming you to your day."

14-year-old football (soccer) captain to our group

Wow.