I’m grateful to be wading through some of the deeper pools of energy bubbling to the surface of my experience. Some of which I’ve had subconscious ways of avoiding for a very long time. 10 min listen.
How do I feel?
When first asked that question, my initial thought was that I don’t know. When I looked deeper, I realized that what I feel on the surface, overwhelmingly, is the collective feelings of fear, anxiety, sadness and anger in humanity today.
When I peel all of that away, I see that what I feel is hope. Hope that the seeming chaos and destruction will result in an equally epic transformation.
Anais Nin wrote “In chaos, there is fertility.” Giving birth is messy, painful and unpredictable. Yet it also contains great beauty, promise and hope. The birth of a new beginning holds the promise of a second chance. A brighter tomorrow. An evolved generation.
If things were working well, there would be no need for change. There would be no inspiration for the rebirth of our society. It is in the midst of this chaos – of this collective pain – that a Phoenix may rise from its own ashes.
It is in anticipation of this Phoenix that I. Feel. Hope.
I’m having a very mournful day. Feeling very isolated and alone.
I went to the grocery store and noticed how people just passed each other by. No eye contact, no smiling. Perhaps it’s just one of those days and I understand that. But it felt really lonely. And disconnected.
Yesterday I saw a deaf man whom I met about a year ago. When we met he told me in sign language I was beautiful. I was touched. A stranger was transparent enough to tell me what he was thinking in the very moment he met me. I was flattered and thanked him. And yesterday, as I was walking down an aisle of different store, I was thinking about him. I was remembering that moment when I met him and how sweet it was. I was remembering how people around me were talking and smiling. I was remembering, too, how the cashier smiled when he spoke to me.
Just then, there he was, turning the corner! I smiled but he couldn’t see through my mask. So I waved and he stopped. I pulled my mask down and told him that I was just thinking about him. He was touched and smiled too.
We stood there for a few moments with eye contact and no masks on. It felt wonderful, to be vulnerable and connect. Then we waved good-bye and went on our way.
I miss smiling at people and making eye contact. I miss hugging people. I miss simply being around people. I just started going into the office at work, and everyone there stays in their square rooms, with the doors closed. It feels so isolating. I don’t blame anyone. I understand. I’m just saying how it feels and how lonely it can be.
I don’t usually share these states of mind, these feelings, because I work through them. But today was a rough one, and figured if I’d I felt this way, others may have too. Maybe somehow this can help someone- in knowing someone else feels this way today too.
Tonight as I get ready for bed, I know I’ve acknowledged my feelings. I’ve shared them with whom I felt I needed to share them. I have cried and I have cleared my energies, releasing what could be released, and now it’s time to rest and allow my body to do what it needs to do.
Tomorrow is another day. Let the sun rise and shine brightly for a new day. May people see the smiles in my eyes, and feel safe and connected there.
~Adrienne Milagros Cheney
There was a time when man thought the Earth to be the center of all he could see in the sky. The Sun and Moon were revolving around the Earth, or so he perceived. Until he gained a new vantage point.
As I look at man’s collective relationship with this Earth we live on, and the beings we share it with, it seems we need a new vantage point. One where our survival isn’t the end all be all.
When you look at your children, is your survival more important than theirs? Of course not. Love drops us down, out of our conditioned survival mind and into something far more expansive. Something more joyful, more fulfilling. Despite what our programming may have us feeling, there is far more peace in not needing to survive than there is in all the protection the world could offer.
Not only that, there is more joy in such freedom. More creativity, and with that, new ideas. Solutions. Loving ones.
It seems to me that from this space we could feed the hungry among us. And without the cruelty to animals we demonstrate now. From that place sharing the world’s resources as a global human family just feels good. And easy. Because from that place, from the deepest parts of our presence here, we are all here together. Connected by the gratitude of simply being.
There’s surviving, and there’s living. Which are you experiencing?
More thoughts on this, and one way of getting there, in the video below. It’s a bit longer, (16 minutes) than what I usually post. I trust you’ll find it worth the time.
I don’t plan these videos. There is no script. I thought of chopping the first 5 minutes off of this one. Then I realized a picture is indeed worth a thousand words.
This video itself, and the shift in my energy while making it, is what I am talking about happening in real time. For me, this is the joy of Life. Of presence finding it’s way home. To faith, hope and love.
Below is a link to the music I was playing in the background…
Sometimes we just need to be held. By ourselves, by others.