“A few days before, with each labored breath, she was losing her faith until it found her. And then she remembered that the highest level of faith is trust: in hope, in revival, in a power higher than herself. And finally, with an exhale and a smile – and salty tears, she closed her eyes and felt the earth’s harmonious vibrations – from the Nambé Pueblo Native Americans she worshipped with just a month earlier to the echo of her children’s laughter from years ago…”
Read moreTestament of a Healing Soul
May you allow your broken heart to burst open into a thousand shattered pieces,
Pick them up one by one along that dark weary path of uncertainty, love, life and loss
And trust – that the illuminating moonlight who relies on the sun for reflection
Will help you reinvent yourself into a mural of healing and peace
May that ache in your bones and quiver on your lips be still in time
Allow it all …
Where is the Hope?
The truth is, there is always hope. Allowing room for awareness, self-discovery and personal growth helps foster hope as it bridges that which was, is and will be. Allow difficulties in. Let them swirl in your mind, body and energy like an angry tide eroding the earth’s sculpted shores. Notice how difficulties change and affect you. Can you feel the moon’s gravitational pull as it aligns with the earth and sun, reinforcing each other with great tidal forces? It’s within your body – you are one with nature, so don’t fight it. Allow the difficulty. Bow to your loss. Dance with your uncertainty. Let memory find pain and become your teacher.
Read moreThe Spirit of Nature
“If you can recall love and you can recall loss and really feel the intensity of the two, while allowing yourself to lean into the pain- the fear and franticness of loss, as well as take shelter in the comfort, security and peace of the love, then you are truly living.” Amy M. Childers
Read moreCatastrophe
Catastrophe
The news crushed her;
Broke her heart into shattered pieces;
Snapped her thoughts and feelings in two
Stabbed her lungs as she gasped for air.
Her energy morphed into a thick, stagnant bog
and
Her unsteady feet shuffled underneath her once vibrant body.
She was struck down.
Destroyed.
Then, slowly, very slowly over time, like the flickering ember of hope in a dwindling fire –
She rose.
She chose life…
And she rose
And she rose
And she rose.
She asked the wind to bring her those shattered pieces
And one by one
Tear by tear
Scream by scream,
The moon cradled her in the curve of his arms – guiding her through her darkest hours.
The sun, in all her healing sphere of radiant energy,
Guided her muscles, tendons and connective tissue
and
United her fragile body with courage, strength and hope
For her mind
For her body
For her spirit
For vulnerable healing - not all at once
There was too much ache.
Not even forever.
But piece by piece.
She chose life
And she rose
And she rose
And she rose.
—Amy Childers
When I anticipate Thanksgiving in America, it’s as if my heart bows to my soul in humble awareness of all that I am, all that I have, all that I’ve endured. I think of Native Americans and European settlers in the United States. All that pain and ownership and history of violence and power, which eventually greeted negotiations, division of land and a long process of healing. Thanksgiving in America began as colonists in New England observed days to be thankful such as surviving a drought, healing from a sickness, arriving after a safe journey or blessed with abundant harvest. Traditionally prayers and sharing of meals took place.
Americans today model this holiday based on a 1621 feast where the Wampanoag tribe and English colonists gathered in peace, sharing food, company and culture. The Wampanoag, meaning “People of the First Light,” were here long before Europeans arrived. While catastrophe in history teaches us the killings, fierce bloodshed, diseases and even epidemics killed many of the indigenous people of that time, we as a unified people, each in our own beliefs and traditions and cultures, can live today in peace, respecting similarities and differences. It’s about educating our selves about each catastrophe, leaving our judgement out of it, and then deciding how we will individually take action to allow the flow of healing and change. When catastrophe happens, we can either choose life or death. Sometimes both happen.
When you personally envision a catastrophe, what comes to mind? What broke your mind, body and spirit in two? Perhaps you are currently in the midst of that catastrophe and a thankful heart is too much to bear. That is okay. Honor where you are at. If you are moving through it; ebbing and flowing, allow the shattered pieces to come to you; fall into place. Can you choose life? Can you rise? Can you rise? Can you rise?
I am thankful for many things, one of which is the memory of my son, Jacob who tragically died 11 years ago in a car accident. A catastrophe. And each day I must make the choice – just like you – will you put your pieces together, whatever your catastrophe, and will you allow yourself to fall and rise, over and over again, until one day that flicker ignites; sometimes barely there, sometimes bright as the full moon lighting our path… and can you rise, can you rise, can you rise?
In our very uncertain times of pain and pandemic and death and anxiety and depression and politics and judgement, I challenge you to be the early Wampanoag tribe. I challenge you to be the early European settlers. I challenge you to ask yourself, “What am I truly thankful for? Who has changed my life? Who has given me food, clothed me, took me in? Who, in the time of my life that I was struck down, helped me by showing pure love and compassion and inspiration so I could choose life?”
We are struck down, but not destroyed. Continued peace, safety and goodwill.
And may you rise, may you rise, may you rise.