I wrote this whilst sitting in a tiny cabin, on a river in Big Sur California. There is no one here, we are alone, nestled under giant redwood trees. I woke early in the dark to make hot strong milky tea, light the fire and read while it rained loudly on the roof and Arran slept in. I sat for a long time absorbing the sounds. It felt beautiful and expansive, alive and whole. At that moment, I felt insane love, and like everything was possible. Utter wholeness, expansion.
I reignited a commitment to feel into this always. It is easy to feel it here in the quiet, with no internet, no noise, no hurrying. When life is slow and simple and full of love we can hear life, the universe speaking to us.
But when we return to LA’s freeways and noise and the homelessness and poverty, and the insane wealth and luxury that intersect each other, and my frustrations and fear and overwhelm, can I come back to life speaking to me? Rather than shut down due to my being overtly sensitive, can I stay alive and open?
Life is speaking to all of us in every moment. Can we hear it? Are we even listening? To the little opportunities, the breadcrumbs it places on our path? Are we enjoying them, creating a feast, sharing the crumbs with the little birds and animals around us, as we walk through? Or are we hurrying, stomping down the path of our life, crushing the crumbs underneath us?
Let’s all take many moments to ask where we are listening to life, and when we are just stuck in our heads.
Sent with love,