My morning began with a run at 545 (this is highly unusual for me to be awake this early.) I run to strengthen my heart. My heart is strong with love, and physically, my heart needs to catch up. It is the voice of my heart that gets me up. If it were up to Jenny Finn, I can tell you right now, you would not see me running down Wahsatch at the crack of dawn. I listen to this voice now; I can hear it clear as a bell. That voice led me to movement and dance as a spiritual practice; it led me to turn my garage into a studio for healing; and now leads me in all kinds of ways, what I eat, drink, how I speak. And it told me to run, so I run. I then danced with four women in my studio. We do this twice a week and I love it. We are out before life seems to emerge on the planet. Sacred time. The closer I get to my heart, the more I realize that the relationship between my body and soul must come first. And what this means is, I commit to my spiritual practice no matter what. Whether I am sick, tired, bored, angry, distracted, joyful, I am out there, in my studio or on the path with my running shoes. It is when I feel sometimes at my worst, that I learn the most. I am vulnerable and open, with my well worn masks stripped away. Fertile ground for the heart.
So, back to the morning. We visited with some neighbors and as we were heading back home, Lizzie, my daughter, fell on both knees on the sidewalk. They were scraped up pretty badly, lines of blood across both knees. We washed them off (she didn't like that), we put on antibiotic cream and a bandaid. We finally made it over to the table for breakfast, I was ready for a nap since it had been a full morning already. And she looks up at me with her big blue eyes and tear stained face and said inquisitively, "Mommy, will this hurting go away?" I began to shake my head before I was getting ready to say, "Not right away, honey." And I noticed her look of panic. "It won't go away, Mommy?", she said. And I responded quickly, "Oh no honey, I was going to say the hurting doesn't go away, right away. Healing takes time. But it will heal and the hurting will go away."
I know this now. There was a time in my life that I didn't know pain would shift and move and more importantly, that I wasn't ever alone in it. I drank, drugged, ate lots of brownies, and people-pleased my way out of my feelings. But the more intimate my relationship with my heart, with God, the more I trust the flowing, changing nature of being human. The more time I spend with God, the larger my container gets; the more I can hold. And the larger the container, the more present I can be for those around me, my children, husband, community and those I teach. The more I trust my own tears, my own rage, my own joy, the more I can see it and trust it in others. My most powerful teachers have been thoaw who hold that trust right in front of me, in the midst of my suffering. When I dance my rage, weep my sadness, I have teachers, who with their simple and profound presence, remind me that I won't die from these feelings. Suffering, joy and everything in between; it is all just moving through us. We get afraid that the pain will stick around forever. It won't, it will change. Just feel it, it's the only way to trust that you can and the only way to find out what is next. Knowing this has given me a great gift....MY LIFE!
