Monday, April 14, 2008

Synchronicities and Trusting the Present

This is my new mantra: I am OK. I have everything I need.

First I read it in a little book of affirmations by Louise Hay, I Can Do It. The same clairvoyant my friend saw had told me to look up Hay's books.

The next time I heard the message was at a Woman's Circle meeting with Andrea Pinto, who teaches yoga near here. She gave a talk about higher consciousness, meditation, and then did a visualisation exercise. As I closed my eyes and followed her instructions, I came down a spiral staircase to a wooden door. Inside the room, was a telephone table and inside the drawer was a message for me: I am OK, I have everything I need.

A few weeks went by with me remembering occasionally to repeat this mantra to myself; in the spirit of the Secret, and the Law of Attraction, I am moving out of negative thinking patterns and into an attitude of gratitude. Last weekend, I attended a workshop at Kripalu, in Massachusetts, with some wonderful facilitators helping us to create transformative workshops of our own. One of the information sheets was called, The Practice of Being, and gave instructions on how to breathe into the moment, bring all your attention to the body sensations, feelings and just be a witness, observing with compassion and acceptance as energy moves through us.

It's perhaps all about trust. A new way of being for me. To allow insights and knowing to come into being on their own instead of figuring things out. Got a chance to practice that the next day, at a local high school, as I lead a poetry workshop with 2 classes of Grade 10 students, ("too cool for school" is how the teacher put it). Hmmm, could we start with just being? with breathing in and out to wake up our feeling senses? it worked wonderfully. I am OK, in spite of being nervous, I have everything I need.

In an art class this last week, our teacher and guide, Kate, urged us to use our intuition, not to think too much, just put pastel crayon to paper and let go. Let the fun of colouring come back in, just like it used to when we were little and open to our imaginations. Before we learned the anxiety of pleasing others and comparing ourself to everyone else. We were all nervous, giggling and convinced our 'artwork' was no good. We needed a lot of pats on the back to believe: I am OK, and I have everything I need.

Yesterday, I was at a church service to hear a friend perform two songs. And wouldn't you know it, my mantra showed up there too. The minister used the psalm, the Lord is my Shepherd as the basis for his text, and asked us to respond whenever he said, The Lord is my Shepherd, with "I have everything I need" (another way of saying, I shall not want, the King James version).

I had to laugh, not having been in a church for years, and never having been to a Presbyterian service, that the message of being in the present moment was part of his sermon too. He quoted C.S. Lewis who said being in the present moment is the best way to experience eternity. At the end of the service, a woman got up to offer yoga and meditation classes in the Church annex. So many reminders, so many signposts along the way.

Just for today, I remind myself: I am OK. I have everything I need.


1 comment:

Shelli said...

I took an art class once and in the last class, after feeling very inadequate about painting, the teacher took us to another room where a very fuzzy slide was shone on the wall. She said to paint it. Of course, it was difficult to tell what it was. She said that perfectionists would hate this exercise. There was a woman next to me in agony. But I loved it. I didn't worry about getting it right because I had no idea what I was painting! Every few minutes, the teacher would put the photo more in focus. Finally, near the end of the class, she turned it around - it had been upside down! She told us to turn our paintings upside down, which, of course, was right side up. Then we finished painting. I still have that painting. I threw all my other work out. For some reason, your post reminded me of that experience. Just letting go. Painting life, even when it's fuzzy.