“The more light you allow within you, the brighter the world you live in will be.” ~Shakti Gawain
This past week the energies swirling around me sounded so loud I nearly cried. The political machinations and racism and stupidity and fear threatened to overwhelm me.
As an empath (highly sensitive person) I felt assaulted.
Finally, on Thursday afternoon, I gave up on getting any work done and retreated to my backyard with the dog. I set up a lawn chair, took off my shoes, and reclined in order to watch the sky, pale blue, smeared with a few slow moving clouds.
For an hour, I sat, watching them move incrementally above me. Birds chattered incessantly. A slight breeze ruffled the naked trees and stirred up small eddies of dust. My dog lolled in the sun, next to the fence.
At one point I walked out onto the dirt pathway through a little grove of oak trees. I stood there, feeling the ground under my feet, feeling myself take root. I connected with the energy pulsing there as it rose up beneath me.
And immediately I felt better.
I returned to my chair, a deep sense of calm descending upon me.
The sky grew cloudy, blue fading into grays and purples. Storm clouds gathered on the horizon and the air smelled like rain.
It was quiet, still.
I closed my eyes and listened for every sound I could discern. Cars whooshing by on Lopez Lane. A crow squawking in a nearby aspen. Wind lacing its way through the cottonwoods’ knotted branches. A child’s voice rising up, half a block away.
My chest loosened.
My heart, hammering inside me a half an hour earlier, slowed. The pressure and tightness in my throat dissipated.
Calm. Contentment. Clarity.
I remembered how I used to do this as a girl.
I used to go outside for respite, renewal. I’d lie down in the grass, clover, and dandelions and watch the sky.
I swore I felt the earth whirring along at 20,000 m.p.h. I’d close my eyes and see red, violet, or bright green on the inside of my eyelids, depending on which way I turned my head. I’d hear the flutter of wings and the sound of a tractor across the fields of sweet onions near our house.
Bees would land on flowering clover and I’d watch them, mesmerized.
Sprinklers would hiss in the distance.
How did I forget? Why don’t I turn more often to this place of peace in times of terrible sadness or stress?
Today’s world is a loud, shrieking carnival most of the time.
I can forget I don’t have to plug into that mess.
Instead, I can shut it down, simply by going outside.
Simply by looking up. Simply by leaving the television, computer, the phone, the tablet, and the recorder behind.
I can step out into a gentle kind of wildness right outside my door.
I can walk in the open fields nearby. I can soak up the sight of the Jemez mountains or the snow-covered Sangre de Christos. I can watch hawks and robins and crows.
I can bear witness to this world.
I can remember to look at what’s right here, right now.
As we navigate the tumult and change that must occur right now, those of us who are awake must remember this.
Breathe. Listen. Be quiet.
This too shall pass. This fear, this strife, this anger, this pain.
We will birth something wonderful, new.
As long as we remember to watch what really matters. As long as we let ourselves become still.
As long as we return to what we’ve always known:
We are luminous beings. Our presence here at this time is purposeful and right.
We are light-bringers and our numbers grow, every single day.
We are watchers and change-agents. We can’t buy into the world that was.
We are here to make something completely new.
© 2016 Shavawn M. Berry All rights reserved
Feel free to share this post with others, as long as you include the copyright information and keep the whole posting intact. If you like this piece please share it with others. You can like me on Facebook or Twitter to see more of my writing and my spiritual journey on my website at www.shavawnmberry.com.