Now we exhale. Each year is one breath, with the solstices the absolute empty (winter) and absolute full (summer). At each equinox (spring and fall) the breath is an equal mix of in and out, of summer and winter. We are now in the year’s exhale. Take a moment to feel your exhale. This is the “releasing” half of every breathing meditation. We are in the time of releasing.
We live in a culture that does not train us in releasing, that fears releasing in every way. All intimacy is about releasing our hold. All spiritual practice is about trust, which is a release. I’ve found in my healing work, that every healing ceremony begins with a release. (Like this one.)
The Spanish poet Antonio Machado (circa 1900) penned a mysterious little poem:
Between living and dreaming
There is a third thing.
Guess it.
Certainly there are 1,000 answers to that little riddle, and they are all correct. Spend some time today answering the riddle for yourself. Ask someone near you what their answer is. Get ready for a real human conversation.
Machado’s little poem is a perfect autumn equinox meditation. Right now, you and I, along with everything in our landscape, are moving from the living to the dreaming: The luscious, erotic energy of summer wanes. The sun sinks into the west. The land quiets after its harvest. The geese begin their journey to the other world, singing their harsh song of grieving and yearning – and of such great trust in the voice from afar calling them onward.
We live in a culture that does not train us in releasing, that fears releasing in every way. All intimacy is about releasing our hold. All spiritual practice is about trust, which is a release. I’ve found in my healing work, that every healing ceremony begins with a release. (Like this one.)
The Spanish poet Antonio Machado (circa 1900) penned a mysterious little poem:
Between living and dreaming
There is a third thing.
Guess it.
Certainly there are 1,000 answers to that little riddle, and they are all correct. Spend some time today answering the riddle for yourself. Ask someone near you what their answer is. Get ready for a real human conversation.
Machado’s little poem is a perfect autumn equinox meditation. Right now, you and I, along with everything in our landscape, are moving from the living to the dreaming: The luscious, erotic energy of summer wanes. The sun sinks into the west. The land quiets after its harvest. The geese begin their journey to the other world, singing their harsh song of grieving and yearning – and of such great trust in the voice from afar calling them onward.
In the Celtic world, the wild goose is an image of the Holy Spirit, something I find unendingly lovely. (Read more about that here.)
When you hear the geese honking overhead, and see them flying away, try thinking to yourself: The goose does not “believe,” it trusts. Belief is cerebral and often forced – we believe the story we are told, we believe what’s “right,” what we are supposed to believe. Trust comes from the belly. The voice comes to us telling us to follow it. Fear is located in the belly too, and so trust and fear sing in the belly together.
My answer to Machado’s riddle: Between living and dreaming, there is the threshold at which we must lay down the world we know, the one we call “real,” the one in which belief matters most. There is that moment when we see the hand reach through from the other side of the threshold that says “come with me, I have something to show you.” How we reach out (or not) becomes our life.
When you hear the geese honking overhead, and see them flying away, try thinking to yourself: The goose does not “believe,” it trusts. Belief is cerebral and often forced – we believe the story we are told, we believe what’s “right,” what we are supposed to believe. Trust comes from the belly. The voice comes to us telling us to follow it. Fear is located in the belly too, and so trust and fear sing in the belly together.
My answer to Machado’s riddle: Between living and dreaming, there is the threshold at which we must lay down the world we know, the one we call “real,” the one in which belief matters most. There is that moment when we see the hand reach through from the other side of the threshold that says “come with me, I have something to show you.” How we reach out (or not) becomes our life.
RSS Feed
