Come, come, whoever you are,
Wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving,
It doesn’t matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow
A thousand times.
Come, yet again, come, come.
-- Mevlana Jelalu’ddin Rumi |
Dear Friends,
Joy. I’ve been contemplating JOY since fall, when, on the last night in Chaco Canyon , I had a dream of a woman named Joy walking with my beloved. In the dream I was jealous of all the attention he was giving to her. I recognize that the dream was about the light-filled-blond-woman-of-ME…the one who knows how to live her joy, the one who is her joy. The dream reveals that my inner beloved is attending to that aspect of me, but my ego is not on board with this new state of being quite yet.
Upon closer exploration, I have found that I know something of joy, and then in setting an intention to open to her and with an attempt to live in MORE joy, I find myself in the dark. But then, it’s been winter, and though I can hardly say I’ve been hibernating (trying desperately to do so with moderate to poor success) I notice that I completely missed sending a SoulWorks Newsletter throughout the entire season. No SoulWorks Winter Newsletter. Now it’s starting to look like spring, so I’m calling this newsletter Almost Spring, because new life and rebirth is comin’ around the bend pretty quick now.
A teacher of mine once 
mentioned that he’d been “apprenticing to joy” for a number of years, and so I’ve wondered if I might do the same, but how? First I contemplated joy: What brings me joy? What are my memories of joy? What IS joy? I discovered this: joy comes unexpectedly, with uncontrollable laughter over the most insignificant things. Like almonds spilling out of my glove compartment of my car or singing out of tune at the top of my lungs. Joy comes from seeing wildly colored sunsets, moon-rises, and grand sunlit vistas. Joy pours out of me at the first sight of a jonquil in spring (I saw one in my garden, just this morning, and it brought gladness to my heart, for just a quick moment!) Joy comes and goes, as fleeting as a bird. I have learned that if one is not present, one may miss joy. Being fully present is part of the path to joy.
I have discovered a few more things about joy. It is a full body experience. Joy comes along with the endorphins of full-out movement, dancing, exercising, and pushing beyond limits. Joy comes through the bodily pleasures and sensations of life. Joy comes when I am in nature, when I am natural and free. Joy comes when I let go, when I surrender, and sometimes joy comes through sorrow or suffering. Joy lives in a forgiving heart towards oneself and others.
I set an intention to allow joy into my life. For starters, I made a ceremony of planting rhododendrons on my birthday, symbolizing my new relationship to joy and connection with my body. As I tend these plants, I tend my relationship with Joy, the blond-haired-woman-of-me. I do this regularly. I touch and water and talk to these plants. But one cannot push plants to grow … one must find the patience to wait for the blooms to open in their own timing. This is a lesson for me.
My experience of setting intentions, creating ceremony to signify change, and of stepping into new states of consciousness is this: At first there is the great excitement for the new idea or hope and anticipation for what is being born. That often carries me into the new relationship with whatever it is I am developing, at least for a while. And then comes a dark time or maybe even a forgetful time. That is when the old psychic forces begin warring with the new ideals. I think of this as the time when my being is rearranging itself, coming to terms with change, holding onto what is safe, and trying to let go into what feels like a big risk. During this time I might feel as if my soul-filled-intention has completely abandoned me.
But I know better. I know because I have lived through these cycles enough times to recognize the pattern. My soul has not abandoned me (more likely the opposite, and I have abandoned my soul, but that is a topic for another discussion.) My soul is gestating this change, like in winter, when spring is gestating just below the surface. So while I am in the winter of my rearranging and my life is busier than I’d like it to be, and I’m responding to any number of crises, and I’m tired, and the days are so, so short and the nights are so, so long, well, to be honest, I’m not connected to my joy. Anything but. And then, the jonquils bloom.
One of the most ecstatic moments of my life came when an antelope and I stared, face to face, with one another. I’d been petitioning to him to come to me for days. He had not come. I was with others, on retreat, and one man pushed some buttons in me that sent me stomping into the bulrushes at the edge of the lake where I allowed myself a deep cry into the earth. The pain of that moment unfolded in the most mysterious ways, leading me into the sweetest surrender (when I found myself bowing deeply to this same man more than a hundred feet away, naked, in the lake.) I returned to the spot where I’d petitioned my beloved -- the antelope buck -- to visit me. He did not come. I surrendered it once again. I let it go. Fully. At the moment of surrender, I turned around – there he was, staring at me. We gazed into one another’s eyes for a timeless moment. This was joy beyond joy for me. From this I learned: sorrow and pain can lead to the kind of surrender that brings great joy. But only if one is able to remain fully present and capable of letting go.
I hardly claim to be an expert at this type of surrender. Or at the quality of joy that I am seeking to live with on a more permanent basis. I do claim to be gestating and rearranging myself in service to Joy, the blond-woman-of–me. I do trust in the process, and I do know that heading to the desert is one of the ways I jump-start my joy. Small wonder that I’m planning to lead a retreat in April called Reclaiming Passion, Play, Joy & Wonder.
Teach what you most need to learn…that’s what they say isn’t it? Well, tell ‘em (the invisible ‘them’ who seem to be everywhere!) that I’m studying my lessons, and plan to play hard, wander and wonder most fully, and explore joy in and on the land at The Valley of Fire: Reclaiming Passion, Joy, Wonder & Play with an awesome group of fellow soul travelers. And maybe I’ll sing out loud and out of tune to bring on those hearty belly laughs! There’s still a little room in the circle if you want to join us …
See the calendar for details, and, as always, wherever your path leads you, I wish you joyful journeys amidst your sorrows...
Love, Lily
