It feels like winter, even though the calendar proclaims that it is autumn. We already had our first snow which is unusual for the west coast. The seasons blend into each other more and more it seems. The time change made the days even shorter or at least it feels like that to me as it is getting dark so early now. Its necessity is still not clear to me. It takes a little time for my body and mind to adjust and get used to the shorter days and dimmer light. However I am noticing myself letting go of the resistance and appreciating the slower pace, the coziness of my cabin and the freshness of the air when I do go outside.
Yesterday I made myself get on my e-bike and go for a ride in the fog late in the day. Once I was getting into a rhythm the thrill of the movement, the cool air and directly relating to nature, rather than just looking out my window, lifted my energy and spirit. It felt like I was riding my bike into the unknown. Deciding to ride down to the end of a road that I only knew a little ways was part of the fun. It was downhill most of the way, but thanks to my wonderful Rad Rover I felt confident I would make it back up and all the way home. On my way back I helped a little newt get off the road and it was so precious to hold this little being in my hand for a moment in time.
The fog got even denser at night when I drove to our choir practice, picking up other singers on the way. Instead of talking we got into remembering and singing our songs and we did the same on the way home. The thick fog held us in this capsule out of time as our voices rang out together, slowly but surely finding its way to harmony. It lifted me right out of my own fog into cherishing this moment of connection and singing together.
This year I have spent a lot of time preparing myself to give my first Enlightenment Intensive where people enquire into the Truth in dyad format with two people taking turns to listen and contemplate and communicate. The connection and contact with your partner in a dyad makes this a very unique and powerful meditation practice. It has been quite the journey from taking my first Intensive in 2007 to giving one at the end of September. But I recognized something is calling me and I really had to step out of my comfort zone many, many times over these years. Yet I am so grateful where it has taken me and I am so looking forward to giving my next one in January 2023, which will be a Love Intensive, where everyone enquires into the Truth of Love.
I also recognize now that sometimes in your life you take a big step where you have to take a leap of faith and completely step out of your comfort zone. There are many little steps and jumps beforehand that prepare you for the big ones. And all you have to do is take one step at a time. It seems to me that with each step that I venture out of my comfort zone it brings me a little closer to the truth of my being and realizing my true nature. Yet this is no easy task. My comfort zone is sticky. The closer I get to taking a step the stickier it gets and there is a tendency for me to want to zone out. Too much food and screen time can only distract for so long before I notice how incredible uncomfortable this comfort zone actually is. Then taking a step feels more like moving towards freedom.
This is why I haven’t written much this year. It took everything I had to take this big step. Blessings to you all on your own journey and if you hear that whisper, let yourself take a little or big step out of your comfort zone, whatever that may be for you.
Sitting on the beach watching a seagull fly by, proudly carrying her treasure, I smile as I hear the familiar sound as she lets go and the shell hits the rocks with a big “clunk”. With the warmth of the sun gone, she hides above a thick layer of clouds that seems to have come out of nowhere. I shiver in the cool April air as the temperature drops accordingly and the wind happens to pick up at the same time, adding to the chill I suddenly feel.
As I rub my fingers to stay warm, the gentle silence and breeze open the space to notice the feeling of deep content inside, that has been there since yesterday, when I was able to step out of my comfort zone and try something new, which in itself turned out so rewarding. 
I would like to share with you Dorna Djenab’s beautiful rendition from Khalil Gibran’s “The Prophet” and perhaps it will inspire you as well to try something new and spread your wings…. And I am hoping to share with you in my next post the reading of the poem that I recorded. So stay tuned. 🙂
Housesitting a quaint little cabin in the forest, I didn’t expect to find a large blue feather lying on the windowsill. My heart fluttered when I saw it, suddenly remembering the little experiment a new friend had encouraged me to make, after sharing some of his own lessons he had learned in Hawaii. He had suggested a couple of weeks before my own journey to Hawaii to envision a blue feather and allow it to come to me.
Waking up to Kingfisher’s loud and distinct rattling call, I opened my eyes to see what was going on. The little ducks, that come to stay in the bay and grace us with their presence every winter, have returned and for some reason this is either not to Kingfisher’s liking or perhaps he is just very excited that they are back to keep him company during the darker winter months. As he is announcing their arrival to the whole world, I watch him fly low over the ducks from shore to tree and back again, over and over while rattling away.
Looking at the Kiwis lying on the table being kissed by the early morning sun, it is hard to describe the joy I feel looking at their fuzzy bodies and also felt while I was picking them as the snow was coming down in silent reverence a few days ago. Standing on the ladder twisting and turning to get those hard to reach treasures, while icy cold drops from the leaves dripped on my face and neck, running down and making me shiver with aliveness, I could feel joy spreading inside and filling me, as I picked one by one and carefully placing them in my basket.
While picking the fruit I was singing a favourite song I learned in choir: “The Earth, the air, the fire, the water….return, return, return!” Standing on that ladder while snow and rain were taking turns to awaken me, I couldn’t help but hear the elements around me calling to become truly present: Return! Return! Return!
Putting another log on the fire, I nestle into my soft blanket as the day comes to an end. I am surprised to see the soft glow of the moon in the East already, while the intense pink sky in the opposite direction announces the departure of the sun. Settling into the stillness of what is ending and beginning all at once, vivid memories from my recent trip return. I remember clearly my feeling of excitement and some fear as I sensed that this trip was just the beginning of a much bigger journey, as I stood at the back of the ferry watching the little island I call home disappear in the dense fog, leaving a sparkling trail of light.
It was such a sweet joy to visit with my dearest friend and as always share deeply with each other both the blessings and the pain. One of the many magical highlights was going for a hike together, climbing her favourite little mountain. My muscles were screaming by the time we got to the top. The little mountain was much bigger than I had anticipated. But the view overlooking Grand Forks and the wonderful feeling I always get when I climb a mountain and can leave behind old ideas, confusion and any heaviness I might be feeling, made more than up for the discomfort of my body.
As we sat on the top of that mountain, dark clouds began moving in quickly and we watched a lonesome crow ride a thermal right in front of us. We remarked on how unusual it was to see only one crow and wondered why a group of them is called something as strange as ” a murder of crows”. No sooner had we spoken the word when more and more crows joined the first one. All of sudden the murder of crows had appeared out of nowhere. There were more crows than we could count, all dancing with the strong winds right before our eyes. It was exhilarating and quite the show to watch, making us wish we could join them.
But there was another gift waiting for us. When we got back down to the bottom of the mountain, my friend found a Praying Mantis right by my car and we took turns holding her for a little while. I couldn’t help but feel profoundly touched by the encounter. 
This Praying Mantis with one broken antenna captured my heart as she sat there looking at me in complete stillness, helping me find my own inner stillness and connection to the Sacred.
When it was time to go back home and the ferry pulled away from Mayne Island at sunrise, I felt quite differently than when I started out on my trip. And one thing that became clear is that my journey isn’t over. As I allowed myself to first entertain the possibility of listening to a deep inner calling to visit the Big Island of Hawaii on my own, that possibility quickly took on a life of its own. I will be leaving for the next part of this journey in just over two weeks. My heart is filled with much gratitude and wonder, but also fear arises in the dark hours of the night, as I continue on this sacred journey into the Mystery.
Drawing Back The Curtain 