Entrainment

Dreams will not be thwarted,

Faith will be rewarded

Our meditation circle  gathered on Monday evening, a blustery night.  The women came in, along with the gusting wind, ready for some peace.  Each one related daily difficulties -- the death of a loved one, a troublesome diagnosis,  being surrounded by negativity. 

Our inner journey that night had an unusual destination:  the sacred space of the heart.  To satisfy our minds, I gave a preview of the trip.  This is an opportunity to anticipate obstacles and ask questions so that once we get started, we can let go of all that and enter into the creative, imaginal realm, where intuition takes over and sacred magic transpires.

Now for the real thing.  Everyone settles in comfortably.  After the usual progressive relaxation, we connect with the earth, the sacred feminine aspect of creation.  Next we open to connect with the night sky, the divine father creator of All That Is.  Then we invite these energies to mingle in our heart chakra, knowing ourselves as a divine child of divine parents -- a holy trinity.

This earth/sky connection is familiar to the group.  We feel ourselves as bridges for  gentle, powerful, opposing energies to flow through -- male and female, giving and receiving, acting and waiting, yang and yin.  Together, they make us whole.

Yet we have not ventured into the heart itself.  And here we are, on the threshold.  Gently, using the visualization I had laid out earlier, we set the intention (prayed) that any obstacle to entering be removed, permitting each woman to enter her own sacred heart space.

Then, like a ghost gliding through a wall, each one made her way into her physical heart.  Most found it dark.  I was guiding them with excerpts from Drunvalo Melchizedek's Living in the Heart:  How to Enter into the Sacred Space of the Heart.  Per his instructions, I said, "Let there be light."  Each woman was gifted with an experience of her inner sanctum, her chamber of creation.

Now we enjoy silence for 15 minutes --  potent time to explore inner worlds.  This is my opportunity to offer healing to each one, if only briefly.  Some ladies are lying on the floor, one is perched on the hearth by the fire, others sit cross legged or on the couch.  I visit each one, placing my hands you-know-where.

To my amazement, every single woman's heart chakra is open and flowing, spinning with strength and tenderness.  If the heart was quiet at first, it blossomed in the grace that filled the room.  As I went from heart to heart, the word entrainment came to mind. An invisible, yet tangible, momentum was fueling our experience.  

So this morning I look up the word  "entrain:  to draw in and transport by the flow...."  Yes, the power of the group enhanced our individual experiences.  We somehow brought each other along for quite a ride.  And even though this definition describes how women's inner wisdom is contagious, I like my pocket dictionary definition too.  It simply says, "to board a train." I smile, thinking of Springsteen's lyrics from Land of Hope and Dreams:  Dreams will not be thwarted, faith will be rewarded, on this train."  

Grace

Last Saturday morning we woke up to the thinnest coating of snow.  It's only 13 degrees outside but I  bundle up and go for a walk.  As I round the corner, the sidewalk is unmarred by footprints; it's a snow-white carpet, scattered with sparks of green and blue, orange and yellow.

It must be the angle of the sun coming up over the rooftops, fracturing the snow crystals into tiny rainbows, strewn not just on the pavement but across frozen lawns as well.

So I blaze a trail on this pristine path, joining other footprints as I round the corner onto Two Rod. I wonder about this pair of footprints; perhaps they belong to Joan and Roseanne, neighbors who are usually finishing their walk as I'm starting out.  Or, could they be Joe and Alica?  No, these are women's sneaker tracks etched in the snow.

As I traverse my usual route, I wonder about the souls of the soles I encounter.  So many patterns, I give them names -- horseshoe heel, windowpane, fish bone, Nike ninja, herringbone, starburst.  So even though I'm walking alone, I feel as though I have company, these snowy sojourners who have come before me. I glance over my shoulder to see  my footprints mingled with theirs and sense an odd unity, a strange melding of time and space, like dimensions colliding.

I make my way as usual to the reservoir.  Here at the dock the snowy crystal coating at my feet remains untouched.  Farther out, the wind has swept the ice clear.  A trio of geese huddle out there, looking taller than usual on their webbed feet.

I don't sit down because if I do, I'll get chilly.  I survey the winter pond. Backyards are exposed, branches are bare, shore stones are edged in ice.  And it's so still.   The silence is vast, hovering over the frozen lake.

I gaze at the handful of prisms scattered on the ice at my feet.  The surface of the pond is three of four feet below the dock I'm standing on.  My focus softens and the sparks of light seem to rise up and fill the air in front of me.  Tiny flecks of green, blue, pink, orange and gold float in the space around me.  This seems  to be an embodiment of grace -- the field of grace that grants access to realms beyond reason.

For me, insight often comes in images.  And this image makes the elusive concept of grace leap to life.  As I turn toward home, I thank the Great Mother in her winter raiment, for rustling her gown and leaving sacred sequins in her wake, seed pearls of wisdom for my healers handbook.

Cold Moon Visitor

The other night, as usual, I went around the house closing up.  When I turn off the last light and close my laptop here at the kitchen table, the stars are visible out the back slider. I usually open the door and gaze for a moment or two, but this night the sky is so open and clear, I make my way through the dark house, pull on a jacket, and step outside.

The moon is just past the half, illuminating the crusty snow, the bones of the gazebo, the sentinel trees.  Branches overhead intertwine and entangle, yet the stars peek through.  I'm looking for Orion's Belt -- the three stars in a row that point to one of the brightest stars in the winter sky, Sirius.  Each step on the ice-encrusted pavers interrupts the night's quiet.

There they are, three points of light, recognizable amid the jumble of winter constellations whose names I don't know. Orion is the mythological  hunter.  It seems we are all hunting for something in deep winter.

Standing on the frozen ground looking up at the heavens orients me somehow.  It banishes anxieties, large and small.  And there have been some large ones.  The death of my husband's mother.  Starting a new job.  Under the stars, perspective enlarges and stresses take their place in the order of things. Breathing in the frigid air feels like inhaling eternity.

As I walk back to the porch, my echoing foot steps disturb an owl!  I look over my shoulder to see him flying in utter silence, white wings gliding.  He settles himself on a craggy branch.  He is marveling at how little I know about his territory -- the dark night, the frigid winter, the sprawling stars.

The owl teaches us to abide these mysteries. He possesses silent wisdom, vision in the night.  Nocturnal omens like these are charged with the import of dreams. Some underground river of knowing unfreezes and begins to yield it's secrets.

Cold Moon Meditation

Give Yourself the Gift of Serenity in 2013 

Join us for our Winter-into-Spring meditation series on Monday evenings, January 28 through March 18, from 7 - 8:30 pm.  This will take us through the first quarter of the wheel of the year.

Each evening will offer instruction to facilitate ease of meditation.  I will present chakra dynamics, showing how these influence your health, overall sense of well-being, and relationships.   In addition, we will explore other tools for getting in touch with your inner wisdom, whether it be aligning with the rhythms of nature, using oracle cards, or discovering your spirit guides.

Using guided imagery, I will lead the group into meditation, with increasing silence as the group decides. We will vary the background music from week to week so you can find what works best for you.  Each meditation is designed to calm, center and ground you within your being in order to contact your divine essence. We will become increasingly comfortable residing in stillness and silence.

The atmosphere is open and relaxed; wear comfortable clothing and bring a cushion or two.  Photos of our beautiful meditation space are available here on the blog -- please browse to view the space and get acquainted with me. Invite a friend or two for these evenings of deep nurturance.

The fee for the eight week series is $80, payable on the first evening, unless other arrangements have been made. To reserve a spot, you may comment below, leave a message at blueheronhealingct@gmail.com or call 860-563-5682.

Give Yourself the Gift of Meditation in 2013

In the very near future, I'll be posting specifics about our upcoming  meditation circle. I plan to resume on Monday evenings at 7 pm until approximately 8:30.  If you are interested in joining us, save that space on your calendar.

We will most likely begin on Monday, January 28th.  I'm not sure about content but will firm up ideas and let you know what to expect in the coming weeks.  Let me know if there's something in particular that you're struggling with or interested in learning more about.  In any event, there will be a guided meditation every week, with increasing amounts of silence as the group becomes comfortable.

Please invite anyone you think might benefit from this calming practice.  The charge will be $10 per evening and I may extend the number of meetings to 10.  So the fee for the series would be $100.

Looking forward to co-creating a sacred breathing space for us all as we enter this blessed new year.

Julie

Snow Falling and Night Falling Fast

The other day we had gently falling snow.  I was driving by the pond and slowed down, as I usually do when going by there -- checking to see if the heron is hanging out.  And sure enough, yes!  There she is.

So I stop and back up.  I'm guessing this alone will cause her to up and fly away.  But it seems she could care less.  I open the window for a close-up view.

This is a different heron. She's beige, perched on a fallen branch, level with the water.  Her webbed feet rest on the snow-encrusted limb. She's hunched,  accumulating snow on her shoulders.  Her feathers are  a tawny blend of bone white and light brown.  The coloring above her eyes is a shade darker than below.  Her beak is long, yellow and sharp.

I take out my phone to try and get a picture, but I have what I refer to as an antique cell phone.  The kind you flip open.  It takes an extremely LAME photo of this magnificent bird.  She looks like a little speck in a lovely curtain of softly falling snow.  The snowfall is so perfect it looks like a movie backdrop, something out of White Christmas.

I've always thought of these  lazily falling snowflakes as blessings from the sky.  Accumulating on our shoulders.  This recalls my essay, The Blessings of Breast Cancer (an Unlikely Title, I know). It was just published in The Door Opener, our regional magazine for healers and holistic practitioners. So I've been hearing from friends, applauding my account of how even the most frightening experiences can yield blessings.

I'm overcome with a deep sense of  gratitude.  2012 has been a tumultuous year to say the least, and yet blessings abound.  We are in the midst of a great awakening -- the end of an epoch and the birth of  a new humanity of oneness and compassion.  These ideals are hard to practice in everyday life where the tension of what's unsustainable is mounting. What's no longer working is inviting change -- that mysterious unknown we're so frightened of.

Ushering in a new self or a  new  world -- it all seems possible in quiet moments like these.  In the hush of the  snowfall, peace descends.

I need to get home.  Like a ghost, the heron seems to fade into the gathering dusk.  I think of that line from Robert Frost:  snow falling and night falling fast.

She seems content to remain in her meditative stance, gathering blessings.


P.S. You can find my essay on line at dooropenermagazine.com.  The December issue is due out any moment.  Thank you Dory for this wonderful resource!