Shedding

God is no-thing,

concealed in the now and here:

the less you reach for him,

the more he will appear.

Silesius

These past few days I’ve had the impulse toward shedding.  It feels like an inner pull to embrace the light of the season.  With the upcoming solstice, lightness is happening on both sides of our planet – leaves on the deciduous trees on one side and mammals letting go of their coats on the other.

I feel lucky that I have the time in my schedule to follow this inspiration and lighten up my environment, which for me almost always leads to an inner lightening up.  For example, yesterday I decided to give away a raincoat.  Had I not worn it once, it would have still had a price tag on its sleeve.  I laughed as I added it to the collection of other things that would be welcomed and used by others.

That raincoat represented a part of me that also needed to go – the snarky part of me that has been bewildered by how anyone could buy something, store it away, and not use it.  Hah.  There it was, hanging in my closet!  A flood of compassion flowed in that moment toward me and every other human.  Within our normal life pattern of gathering, nesting, and protecting our families and ourselves, we tend to accumulate and get caught up in our stuff.  It takes some kind of prompt to get us to lighten up and get some perspective on habits mostly of our own making.

The verb “shedding” is pliable and has multiple meanings.  I find it interesting that the idiomatic usage of “shed light on” stems from earlier times where “shedding” inferred clarity or discernment.  It is with that sense that I felt myself “shedding tears” for our humanity being wrapped in our attitudes and environment.

It is no wonder that the prophets and indigenous elders reminded us of basic truths, such as the light is always there.  We only need to realize it.  Thankfully, solstice and other phenomena of nature can stir our memory of the light, and prompt us to let the light shine into the closets of our minds.  Then, the shedding comes naturally, without effort.  For many, that light is called God.

Practice

This short practice offers awareness of the light.

• Prepare –
  • Turn your phone, tablets, and computer to silent.  If you are wearing an electronic tool, remove it. Exception is for medically required electronics.
  • Find a comfortable seated position.
    • If you are seated in a chair, place both of your feet on the floor.
• Practice –
  • Take a moment to vigorously shake out your arms and hands.
    • Try to this in as relaxed as way as possible, i.e., let your upper limbs be loose.
      • If you have joint injury, adjust the movement as needed.
  • Slowly, nod your head up and down a few times.
    • You may close your eyes or leave them in a soft gaze.
      • Invite a sense of relaxation around the lids and corners of your eyes.
      • If you have cervical injuries, imagine this movement.
  • Pause with your chin turned lightly upward.
    • Smile gently with your lips closed.
    • Invite a few, deeper inhalations. Imagine as though it is a quiet, warm day and you are outside. The air smells sweet and you can feel the warmth caressing your face.
  • Pause with your chin turn lightly downward.
    • Imagine from the backside of your eyes, you could allow your gaze to settle upon your heart.
    • Smile gently with your lips closed.
    • Invite a few, deeper exhalations. Imagine as though there is a soft, luminous glow in the center of your heart.  On each exhale, your entire being is being bathed in that light.
  • Pause with your head to center.
  • Sit quietly for a few moments.
• Transition Back into Your Day –
  • When you are ready, return to your day.

This poem appears in Mala of the Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, page 19, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.

HEARTH is posted each new and full moon and written by Kate Vogt. To learn more about Kate Vogt and her “Living Wisdom Every Day,” please visit katevogt.com.  KateVogt©2019.