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I am finding these to be very challenging times as of late, even though things seem to returning to something more recognizable, for the moment anyway. There is still so much liminality in the world, so much that is undefinable and ineffable, as we continue to navigate the pandemic, the Ukrainian war, the changing climate, the ongoing oppression of others.
The world can feel like it is unraveling at times, and me along with it. These are the times when I am most vulnerable to some form of distorted storytelling. The brain is a meaning making organ, after all. It has any number of creative ways to develop narratives that help me think that I know what’s happening. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. We are designed to look for and rely on some kind of model for our experience, especially when it feels threatening, or sufficiently outside of our ordinary experience of reality for us to know how to respond. Our central nervous systems do not do well with the unknown. When I find myself in these spaces of confusion, when I feel the footing beneath me shifting, I try to make it a practice to slow down and acknowledge my vulnerability to a story that shores up my ego, or reduces the complexity of the situation to something more digestible, but incomplete. Here is the invitation to humility. Holding our understanding lightly in open hands, makes room for new information, or a shift in perception or perspective, and gives us space for compassion as well - for ourselves and for others. It is okay not to know. Confusion feels uncomfortable, so we tend to breeze past it. Perhaps we might try welcoming the unknown and undefined, the generative befuddlement that always precedes understanding? There are lessons here too. Blessings on your journey, Louisa
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 As I was assembling the elements of the newsletter this month, I found myself thinking a lot about the featured article, which is written each month by one of our practitioners. This month, Kara is writing about the Tarot card “The Lovers”. I’ll let you check out her wonderful insights for yourself, but the essay struck a particular chord for me regarding the transformational nature of love.
This idea that love transforms is much needed in our world right now. Perhaps, we can point to times when something occurred to evoke or wake up love and that has helped us to soften and shift our perspective. We might think of this as an outside event transforming us internally. But I’ve been wondering about how that might work in the reverse. How does our own transformation allow us to access love differently? What does it look like from the inside out, if you will? I have had the honor of being at the death bed of three different friends during or near to their passing. Some of you may already know how powerful this time is, when there is a sense of urgency and clarity, and things may need to be said while it is still possible. In each of these cases, I witnessed a transformational change that allowed the barriers to both receiving and expressing love melt away. Something about the letting go, the surrender, and the inevitability of losing everything opens the door to the most fundamental and basic truth in the Universe: Love. When we can suddenly see the illusory structures, both internal and external, that have influenced our lives, maladaptively designed to protect us from hurt and suffering, when we realize that they are failing as the body fails, we are able to finally dismiss the ego obstacles to Love. It seems to me that the question then becomes how can we accomplish this goal earlier in the primacy of life, while there is still time to build a life of service and connection? While we can still love and be loved freely and without inhibition, even though we may get hurt? The work we do to learn and grow, to accept our own imperfections and develop resilience in the face of our own humanity seem to hint at an answer. If only we didn’t have to wait for the final hour to gain all that clarity. Blessings on your journey, Louisa |
