…”when life does not in any way add up”…..
Sometime midweek, I had to stop, just stop, shake myself a bit and consider—what exactly is solace?
If ever there were a time to consider a practice of solace, here it is and here we are, in this altered state of living and of consciousness, in this thing called a pandemic.
To some degree or another, the doors of our homes are closed.
To some degree or another, we walk outside with disquieting caution.
To some degree or another, the future we held for ourselves and our families shape-shifts like a 60’s hallucinogenic geometric design.
To some degree or another, time continues to morph slowly, quickly, into forms unrecognizable, hugely emptied yet zooming by.
A practice of solace?
Sounds timely to me, dear friends.
Different systems talk about solace in interesting, similar ways.
Twelve Steps tell us in the midst of chaos, there is serenity.
Living Yoga tells us that, no matter the external clamor, there is silence inside, that it is through the human experience, the doorway to Grace emerges.
Like everything else in this wacky pandemic, these practices that I know—to some degree—that I practice—to some degree—intensify in necessity and deepen in functionality.
You guys, we must find comfort somewhere.
That which used to soothe us might be different now?
The agitations around us might be louder now?
Yet what is it, that remains the same?
What is consistent?
What comforts us?
What comforts can we return to, as a verb form, an intentional and willful action woven into the fabric of our day?
What new comforts can we initiate?
This is me.
Here I am.
I practice solace very imperfectly:
- By starting the day in a bathtub of hot, delicious water
- By walking on the dirt road to the sheep farm
- By appreciating the slope of the land, as the above picture shows, of Round Hill Road
- By saying hello to all the animals, the birds, the sheep, the critters I meet
- By giving myself the gift of tiny yet significant consistent meditation
- By asking Life to hold my hand, to carry me through
Please note my description of “very imperfectly.”
Sometimes I walk on the most hallowed ground on the planet, the ground right here and right now, and I am everywhere.
Sometimes I am unable to hear the massive woodpecker sounding like a jackhammer—I’m too busy plotting the possible outcomes of my life with multiple plot twists.
But I practice.
But we practice.
We make room for imperfection.
Here’s the bottom line:
I believe I am the only one here who can soothe me.
And dear friends,
What about you?
How do you comfort yourself?
What does your practice of solace look like?
Here’s David Whyte, the poet, and philosopher, with wise, beautiful words:
Solace is what we must look for when the mind cannot bear the pain, the loss, or the suffering that eventually touches every life and every endeavor.
When longing does not come to fruition in a form we can recognize, when the people we know and love disappear, when hope must take a different form than the one we have shaped for it.
When life does not in any way add up, we must turn to the part of us that has never wanted a life of simple calculation.
To be consoled is to be invited into the terrible ground of beauty upon which our inevitable disappearance stands, to a voice that does not soothe falsely, but touches the epicenter of our pain or articulates the essence of our loss, and then emancipates us into the privilege of both life and death as equal birthrights.
The privilege of both
Here is my gift to you, dear readers, a gift of solace, a gift of guided meditation, of guided relaxation. Please do enjoy.
Our chance to join together, practicing mindful communication, to remember we are not alone. Please join if you can by just coming on Zoom, utilizing the below links—no registration is needed. The link will take you into the Zoom meeting.
Please note: You’ll need the password share2020 to enter the meeting.
Donation is appreciated, 5% will be given to the Berkshire County Food Bank.
(No registration needed) https://www.paypal.me/CoachAruni
- Monday, April 27, @ 2:00 Click Here
- Wednesday, April 29, @ 2:00 Click Here
- Friday, May 1, @ 2:00 Click Here
May we be safe,
May we be well.
Give us the
And the willingness
To be present
With what is.