On April 5th, I broke the head of my humerus in three places. The subsequent days have involved copious amounts of humility, gratitude, anger, surrender, frustration, and surrender again in wave upon wave. As a reward for this riding of Is, my healing is going extraordinarily well. And I’ve been told to “Keep doing exactly what you’re doing.” Which is beautifully affirming by our western medicine that an integrative approach to feeling it all and responding – again and again – with compassion is not only therapeutic for the mind and soul but also a broken bone.

As well as super irritating. Because it means I get to lean in longer to feeling and riding serious (for me) physical restriction and ongoing VERY active mindfulness of how much I’m doing and how much I’m balancing the doing with stillness. It’s all fascinating always. And annoying sometimes as well.

As I embrace a new level of mastery in slowing down, I thought it could be interesting to share a different side of me. The piece below was never intended for public consumption but really, why not? Every one of you has felt all of what I have felt in the ride of my life. Some of you more, some of you less. But there is a current of like experience that we all share.

We ride the wave of our own individual moment and yet know another will pass by anytime on their own wave. And we know that another has caught this exact same wave of internal expression in the past. Or that another will very soon in the future.

So come on in for a visit… this is the first reflection in unedited form that I wrote when I was in Maui back in January. It comes from the same well spring of all that I write to you. Just a tad less polish than when I open with the intention of Being Seen.

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Maui. Day 1.

I’m avoiding writing this morning on the computer. Because I feel as if I missed the magical moment. The moment earlier when the wind was in charge. When it was breeze that was the loudest voice. And she came with her strength and ebbed with her rest. Over and over.

Now, there is a freakin’ cacophony of doves overshadowing the wind. The breeze is behind them. I think. But the damn birds – and roosters – won’t shut up. They are so happy to see the sunshine. To wake. And the magical stillness of the night sky – of brushing palm leaves and faintly crashing waves and spattering raindrops – has faded into the background. I have to listen so much quieter to hear it. I watch a dove out my wind and he bows to me over and over again. Tuck and bow, up and straight, tuck and bow, up and straight. Tail pops up, head dives down, tail pops up, head dives down. He won’t stop moving.

Aw, crap. Now there are two doing the weaving and bobbing.

Framed by the silhouette of palm and against a backdrop of the softest blue sky. It is more white than blue in its morning filter. The damn birds want to sit on the same flimsy branch. Ack! One just gave up and flew straight toward my window. I heard it “thump” on the roof above. And now its coo is close. So close.

Red flowers dot the unknown gnarl of bush plant in front of me.
They are bright with life.

The other dove just took a dive to the ground. Can’t see it anymore. It’s hanging out where gravity assisted its landing.

The palm fronds continue to blow. Now that I don’t have the doves in my line of sight, I can see the fronds better. Less distraction.

They are sharp against the white blue sky. They look like blades – not something soft billowing. They are slicing moment by moment and breeze by breeze. Up close at least.

The tree further away does look more like a dancer. She looks light and free in her branches. Hard and compact in her nestling of coconuts at the heart of her trunk.

Dance morning. Dance. Where matter meets air. And wind meets space. And space meets time. And time meets the moment.

The moment will never die. This moment Is always. Whether we’re here or not. Whether this planet exists or is gone. This moment continues. Always. Infinite. A thread of all. Holding us.

So small. So small we are. And yet with such vastness of the universe in our very center. Holding both at once – these two extremes of infinity and micro me – it is, overwhelming. Heart crashing. It threatens my human existence.

It confirms my eternal realm.

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And that dear friends was an unfiltered freeze frame of my life. l’ll send a few more from Maui in the coming weeks. Please excuse any cursing to creative flow.

May you ride your wave as I ride mine.

Aloha,
Rachel