When Simple Presence Is Enough…


Sometimes, dear friend, words elude me. I just want to stare out the window and watch the leaves fall, attend to the shifting light on the no-longer green trees, become one with the warmth of the teacup against my palms.

This is when I am especially grateful for the poetry of others, the gentle gathering of words that speak the depths of what I am feeling. Here is a particularly beautiful offering by the late John O’Donohue….from my heart to yours.

For Presence

Awaken to the mystery of being here
and enter the quiet immensity of your own presence.

Have joy and peace in the temple of your senses. Receive encouragement when new frontiers beckon.

Respond to the call of your gift and the courage to follow its path.

Let the flame of anger free you of all falsity.

May the warmth of heart keep your presence aflame.

May anxiety never linger about you.

May your outer dignity mirror an inner dignity of soul.

Take time to celebrate the quiet miracles that seek no attention.

Be consoled in the secret symmetry of your soul.

May you experience each day as a sacred gift woven around the heart of wonder.

from To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings by John O’Donohue Copyright 2008

Love and blessings,



Assume The Position

What is the most important part of a meditation practice? Most would say it is being present to your breath, focusing on a mantra, opening your heart to God, feeling connected to the Oneness that binds all of us together in the web of life.

But after years of dancing in, out and around having a consistent practice, I believe that the most important part is sitting down. First there is getting yourself to stop whatever you are doing and actually get your tush on the cushion. That part is huge, and one of the biggest obstacles most of us face.

And then there is the posture itself — relaxed yet upright, spine straight yet fluid, base firm and solid, hands resting lightly on the knees or thighs, eyes closed or half-closed with an unfocused gaze, shoulders down, face soft and jaw unclenched. It is a regal posture; you are saying with your body “Here I am, present and attentive to whatever shows up, whatever thoughts or sensations or emotions flash through my being.” It also says “Here I am, taking my place in the lineage of people who seek to know themselves and how their minds work, so we can relate to ourselves and others with more compassion, wisdom and grace.”

Assuming the position on a fairly regular basis allows your muscles, bones and nervous system to acclimate to what that posture means. It allows cellular memory to build, so that even in your most unruly, agitated meditations, bringing awareness to your body brings you back to the task at hand. If the mind is indeed a monkey, swinging from branches and grabbing at bananas, then lightly touching into the sensation of our body in the meditative posture can slow the movement down and offer it an anchor.

So if you want to meditate but think you can’t, or are having trouble staying with the practice because your mind just WON’T…STOP…WHIRRING, forget about trying to meditate. Instead, make an appointment with yourself to sit for a few minutes every day; relaxed yet upright, spine straight yet fluid, base firm and solid, hands resting lightly on the knees or thighs, eyes closed or half-closed with an unfocused gaze, shoulders down, face soft and jaw unclenched. Take a regal posture.

Feel yourself suspended in space, either on your cushion or on a chair, embodying the solid, compassionate posture of a meditator.  Pay attention to your breath as it moves in and out of your lungs, and let your awareness connect gently with the feel of your tush and legs as they contact the seat, or your hands as they rest on your thighs. Your body holds much wisdom and a huge capacity for sense memory. Train it to carry you to where you think you cannot go.

This Could be The Best Part of Your Day

So, what is the best part of YOUR day? Is it that first sip of coffee (or tea, as in my case)? The moment you hit “send” on that email you’re been putting off for almost a week? The unexpected smile and kiss you get from your teenager? Or is it the moment that you finally get to put your head on the pillow after getting through another overfull and mostly uninspired day?

For those on a path of mindful living, the best moment can be any moment we are fully awake to; it is the ability to find the extraordinary in the ordinary. A cat lying in a patch of sun, a squirrel running frantically across the lawn with its cheeks full of seeds, even a spiderweb that we really look at before we knock it down or suck it into the vacuum cleaner; putting our mind chatter on hold and being fully present to any moment is an extraordinary gift and challenge.

There is so much emphasis in popular culture on being the best, the most amazing, the superstar!! Yet most of daily life is filled with boring or ordinary things, many of which need to get done, some of which we choose but are not quite thrilled by: it’s easier to love a clean sink than the act of dealing with grimy, greasy dishes.

What if this moment, this small, simple moment of taking time to read these words and pause a bit from what may be a chaotic day, could be the best part of your day? What would that mean for you? A smile. A memory of some silly, tender moment with your child, your dog, your best friend. A realization that whatever else is happening, whatever else needs to happen, can wait and the world will not fall apart. That presence trumps perfection, and you are running the control panel of your awareness.

So tell me…what is the best part of your day?


The short, the sweet, the essential

As an avid reader and less-avid writer, I often find myself swimming in a sea of words. I know that many blame TV and the Internet for decreasing the human attention span, but I wonder…how many words do we really need to get our point across? Are we truly saying something of interest and import (or amusement), or are we mostly filling a void or meeting a word count for arbitrary publishing purposes?

I’m sure you’ve found yourself reading a blog post or article or book and thinking “yeah, yeah, OK, you’re a good writer but just get to the point already?!?” Do we all really have ADD, or are there simply more words than there need to be in most writing? After all, how much more pithy and meaningful can you get than a well written haiku (three lines consisting of 5, 7 and 5 syllables), or the less known monostich, a one line poem such as “It was a huge small world in the court where our apartment dwelled.” You fill in the blanks yourself — at best, these short pieces open up a well of responses in us, rather than telling us how to respond.

So I commit myself to short posts that provoke thought through the less is more theory. I’m not even committing to once a week, or every other day or any other rhythm; I’m going to let the rhythms find their own way, syncopated and uneven as life tends to be. I invite you to write some haiku or monostichs yourself and see what can open through a commitment to brevity and succinctness.  In a “more is always better” world, take a stand for the beauty of simply this. And share that beauty with the weary, bloated, overflowing world.

Some Notes on Faith

Yesterday I bought myself a “transition gift,” a sparkly strand of small white/gold Swarovski crystals surrounding a gold bead etched with the word FAITH. It represents this poignant moment in time as I continue becoming a motherless daughter, finally leave a location and healing practice I’ve been associated with for 20+ years, publish my first book and step more fully away from the work of massage into a primarily spiritual and emotional healing realm.

For me, FAITH is a promise of good things to come and the ability to weather the rough spots with my sails intact. FAITH is the absence of cynicism and narcissism, both so rampant in modern culture. It is FAITH in something larger than myself weaving reality together, even when I’m not always sure of the weaver’s form or existence. And it is the ability to have FAITH in myself above all, in my own hard-won wisdom and innate goodness, in my need and right to take my seat fully at the table and share gifts of heart and soul that assist others in taking their place fully in a world that needs so many more healed souls.

In her book Faith: Trusting Your Own Deepest Experience, Sharon Salzberg writes:

“Faith does not require a belief system and is not necessarily connected to a deity or God, though it doesn’t deny one. This faith is not a commodity we either have or don’t have — it is an inner quality that unfolds as we learn to trust our own deepest experience.

Such faith is not superficial or sentimental. It doesn’t say everything will turn out all right…Life is not likely to deliver only pleasant events. Faith entails the understanding that we don’t know how things will unfold. Even so, faith allows us to claim the possibility that we ourselves might change in ways that will allow us to recognize and trust the helping hands stretched towards us. It enables us to aspire to a better life than the one we have inherited.”

Yes, this is the FAITH I am reminded of when I look at the sparkly stones and word encircling my wrist. FAITH that I can go on without my mother’s love and guidance and inherited way of skewing towards the pain and negativity of life. FAITH that I have something valuable and necessary to offer besides what I can do with my hands (and I was blessed with really great hands, hands that find sore spots and know how to ease them). FAITH that as I step fully into the new and unknown, the path will open before me and my feet will always find a place to land.

Take a few moments to think about your own relationship to faith. What do you have faith in? Do you allow yourself to touch into your essential goodness on a daily basis? Can you reach a little higher, a little deeper, to connect with the faith you may have temporarily lost touch with? How does faith live in you? Please share…and check out the beautiful bracelet at sealedwithlove.com.

A Poem to Warm and Lighten

Today I offer a poem by Naomi Shihab Nye, from her book Words Under The Words. Read slowly and savor — poetry offers a feast of sensory information. May its light and warmth guide you as we move from these short days into the increasing expansiveness of this cold and stark season.

The Song

From somewhere
a calm musical note arrives.
You balance it on your tongue,
a single ripe grape,
till your whole body glistens.
In the space between breaths
you apply it to any wound
and the wound heals.

Soon the night will lengthen,
you will lean into the year
humming like a saw.
You will fill the lamps with kerosene,
knowing somewhere a line breaks,
a city goes black,
people dig for candles in the bottom drawer.
You will be ready. You will use the song like a match.
It will fill your rooms
opening rooms of its own
so you sing, I did not know
my house was this large.