My Life is My Message

"My Life is My Message.” Mahatma Gandhi’s words live on near the United Nations in Geneva.

Exiting the International Red Cross Museum in Geneva, the lump in my throat has softened, the near-tears in my eyes have dried but my heart still seems to take up a vast space in my body.

I went to the museum with my 21-year old daughter, Lauren, and my partner, Mitch, expecting a pleasant tribute to the Red Cross and a little history that might liken to reading a novel about Florence Nightingale as the founder of nursing. Oh, little do I know.

Instead, we were captivated by a skillfully designed museum that had us individually and silently sitting across from 'witnesses' of great human suffering. These witnesses shared their stories, from genocide, war, cyclones and tsunamis across the globe. They were digital projections of real people but their stories were impactful as we touched our hands to their projected hands to show that we were ready to listen.

Through this permanent exhibit, The Humanitarian Adventure, I came away with a deeper understanding of political and natural contemporary problems of humanity and the evolving roles the Red Cross plays in prevention, aid and ongoing support to victims of such tragedies and therefore humanity as a collective.

I was most reminded of the resiliency of the human spirit. I bow to this gift of humankind that is a seed within each of us.

Yes, each of us.

Race, age, political or geographical borders cannot touch that seed.

It can be said that the seed of resilience grows stronger through challenge, like a plant stalk strengthens against the wind.

If in our own life, if we have not experienced great trauma — great winds of challenge — we have certainly have experienced occasional gusts or breezes of trauma. By acknowledging these experiences and leaning into the roots of our very humanness, we discover strength, endurance and self-compassion.

And yet, it takes skill and understanding to lean into that which has been very difficult. To catch fully catch the gifts, we may need help from a loved one, a doctor or professional therapist.

We might say it is from this development of resilience that compassion for others flourishes.

Is this not true in your own experience? Can you think of a particular challenge in your life that fed your understanding and compassion for others?

As we strolled Ariana park near the Red Cross Museum, the statue of Ghandi seemed to pull me toward it despite being on the opposite side of a busy street. Mitch knows there are certain things that pull me into abandonment of whatever I am doing: like when I slam on the bicycle brakes at the sight of a wild berry patch, or veer across lanes of bike traffic in Amsterdam to pursue a "niew herring" stand. He recognized the potential pull of the monument and safely guided me across the street. The inscribed words seems a fitting capstone to our time in the museum, "My life is my message".

This seems vividly true for each of the 'witnesses' profiled at the Red Cross museum and is it also true for each of us?

Feel into your heart and let the answer reveal itself.

Then, do what you need to do to let your message ring loud and clear, as uniquely as this life that lives through you.

If you would like help moving through challenges in your life, or opening to the messages of your heart, I am here for you in one-on-one sessions online or in person. Or join me on an online course or on retreat.

With respect for the resilience within you,

Julie

The Wildfire Within

Just as wildfire makes room in the forest for growth and renewal, personal catharsis can turn the soil of our hearts, leaving fertile ground for our potential to flower. It can also leave us brittle, angry or withdrawn. Much depends on the skills we have of being with challenge and the resilience that naturally comes out of those skills.

In yoga, we can learn from the parallel teaching to the wildfire metaphor, in the Sanskrit word 'tapas', which stems from the verb meaning "to burn".

Tapas is a "niyama", the 2nd of 8 limbs of yoga found in the foundational yogic text, Patanjali's Yoga Sutras. We might think of the niyamas as positive duties or observances. The niyama, tapas, is a burning desire -- or, conversely, burning of desire -- or can be thought of as a discipline.

To me, tapas, practice (which to me feels more like delight than the rigorous associations we might have with the word ‘discipline’ ignites and fuels personal growth and deeper spiritual connection.

Just as wildfires are a natural phenomenon and will occur in their own time with or without human cause or intervention, so too - I believe - is our personal evolution. Human life not only depends on change, it is change. Whether we have a practice or not, change will happen just as surely as fire will burn.

Some fires are purposefully ignited in what is known as a prescribed, or controlled burn; a systematic means of restoring health to an ecosystem. Much like our purposeful action of practicing yoga or meditation to restore the ecosystem of our body, mind and heart.

Regular practice develops skills with which, not only to cope, but to thrive within change.

Stay with me, if you will, as I extrapolate a little further.

Prescribed burns, which are done in the cooler months, also prevent more disastrous, out-of-control fires from happening.

When we practice within a controlled setting - where we feel safe - we learn to skillfully navigate body sensations, emotions, thoughts, beliefs and our place in the order of things. Sure, life will eventually take us through it all even without a practice, but wouldn’t we rather move through life with more skill and acceptance?

The benefits of our personal practice reach further beyond ourselves than we can imagine.

A friend, who is going through a time of profound challenge, wrote in an email to me the other day, "May the day unfold absorbing every ounce of God’s goodness even with the wildfire smoke which casts a feeling of the good ol' days when we had with bushfires on the farm."

Her attitude of gratitude on this day, with a porridge-like grey sky hiding the mountains and biting our lungs, is a testament to her strength and grace. It is a testament to her choice to live consciously and inquire deeply.

Her words make my heart sing, and now perhaps is causing a resonance in your heart. By the way, how many miles away are you?

Now, go out and touch the heart of another, or go within and practice. Together, our love, kindness, compassion and acceptance can reach a million miles.

May your practice in good times and during the seemingly catastrophic times, clear your heart like a runway, for more love and joy to land.

Tending our hearts

Unearthing stuck patterns from my heart feels like a salute to Mother Earth, letting her know I’m preparing for her loving marching orders to come so She can express through me.

In this process, the very practical things seems less effortful. The most dreadful of junk drawers gets organized. My primary relationship shimmers in readiness and a new excitement arises. The weighty projects get completed or tossed. The thrift store benefits. The busyness somehow feels restful.

And at the end of this waning moon cycle, things won’t be perfect. There will still be some cluttered drawers, annoyances, old attachments and sometimes saying “yes” when I mean “no”. I will stumble, but more and more, I smile when I trip over myself.

Like the soil in a garden, life doesn’t have to be sterile and orderly to flourish. It does require attention and care for maximum yield.

Just as a flower might push up through cracked concrete, that which is meant to grow within us, will. And, when we take time to tend to our deepest self, to till the fertile soil of our heart, life springs forth from us with more ease and grace.

May you turn inward to your abiding heart, and blossom outward in your unique brilliance.