“When it’s over, I want to say I have been a bride married to amazement, I’ve been a bridegroom taking the world into my arms.” – Mary Oliver

Tonight, I stepped outside after my first yoga class in twenty years.  I had opened tight places I did not even know I had.  As I left the studio, I was relieved that I could still walk!

What really caught my attention though, as I stretched my limbs out the door into this far northern night: stars. A whole sky–full.

Our gorgeous north Idaho summers succumb to long winters of clouds. Our ski mountain loves the snow, but I miss that deeply expansive sight of night sky.

Maybe it was 90 minutes of intense yoga. (I’m in great shape. I looked at the class schedule and forgot my twenty years away…)
Maybe it was the two weeks that have passed since I last saw a sky full of stars. (Here in our remote county, when there are no clouds, we truly see stars. There are many more stars than people… or lights to block the night sky!)
Maybe it was too-long winter hibernation.

I don’t know what it was.

But I do know what happened as I stepped outside, seeing the Big Dipper, Orion, the Pleiades, and the other Winter constellations:
I did not feel like I was 120 +/- odd lbs, standing on a cold stab of north Idaho sidewalk.
Instead, I felt as wide as that sky.

I felt as if time stretched back to my earliest memories of stars…night sailing off Cape Cod, my family singing lullabies….

And my strongest memories… sleeping river-side, sleeping bags encrusted in silvery frost, under endless stars on the cactus-bound Mexican border …

or my favorite memories… tracing winter constellations among the green and pink swirls of northern nights, on the Canadian border, as sled dogs slept, nose under tail…

It was as if, in that moment, all those times, and all those places, existed, all at once.

If I had a label, it would be mystical.

In that moment, I felt the whole wide universe welcomed me. I felt completely Home. I felt, in every cell, as if I belonged.

I’m not complaining… and I will go back for more yoga!

What helps you know, in your bones, that you belong?

We know simply that nothing is static, nothing is absolutely predictable, and nothing is certain.

L. Robert Keck, Sacred Quest

Last night, I flunked fire duty.

On retreat with 8 other women in the pine-filled hills of eastern Washington, I was positioned for my favorite role; sleeping by the wood stove and stoking it periodically through the night.

I flunked. I slept right through. But it was worth it. This morning, small flakes of snow filling the pine expanse outside, I got to watch someone else lay and attempt to light the fire, and I knew, in that moment, that another “fire lighting as life” blog post would be born.

Here’s why.

Well-meaning but not used to lighting a fire without paper or other fire-starter, she laid all the kindling and wood in place, lit the match, and then…. hoped.

Luckily, she was open to help; using the spark of flame she had started, I patiently fed slivers of wood right into the openings of flame and air, until we had enough flame for her pre-laid wood to catch….

There was this poignant moment though, watching her newly lit flame, with nothing to burn, nothing to engage.

Many of us lay a fire as we build a life; we get all the pieces in place, all the plans and dreams all lined up, then we light the match, and expect the fire to feed itself…. The life, the dreams, the plans to bloom.

Yet, to what degree is life truly like that?

When our fire-building supplies are plentiful, when we are truly skillful and have mastery over our materials, we can build the fire this way… lay all the pieces in one place and trust the upwards flow to catch carefully placed materials into flame.

Think back five years, ten years, twenty. What delightful surprises exist in your life now that were not even on your radar back then?

When we live in the present moment, we can notice everything. We can appreciate all that is good, all the new possibilities that we can kindle into new fires. We can feed our dreams. Some lay dormant for years… waiting for the moment to ignite.

Today, wake up. Look around at your life.

What new possibility is waiting to be born???

“The most important thing to remember is this; to be ready at any moment to give up what you are for what you might become.” 
—W.E.B. Dubois

“Your work is to discover your world and then with all your heart give yourself to it.”

Buddha

In my north Idaho January grey, with its subtle beauty and stunted daylight, flame becomes my lifeline to the sun. When I take the time, I build my woodstove fire as I aspire to live my life:

I mindfully choose slivers from wood I have split, with full attention, and just one match. I best align flame and fuel, and lovingly feed just the right wood into just the right opening to coax flame into fire.

No fire starter, no newspaper. This method takes presence, gentleness, and patience. With that first tiny tongue of flame, my full attention reveals to me where to place the next piece for maximum gain.

Stewarding the smallest flame into full bloom in this way connects me with the primal force of fire itself. It also connects me with hope. Through the power of attention and full presence, so very much is possible.

This morning, I lit my fire my preferred way. I feel more alive, and more grateful.

I wonder where else in my life, in my urge for speed, am I missing fuller, deeper satisfaction. What about you?

To live this way, this slower, deeper, richer way, I need to step back, explore my life, and choose: what will build the best fire in me? Where do my passions lie? What do I care about now? What does the world need? Just as flame and fuel come together to create a bigger fire, I have found the same is true for me; the better I can align my passions and gifts with my sense of what is needed in the world, the brighter I become.

As humans, we have this unique ability to vision something, to lay the foundations, and nurture our vision into reality. We have the ability to lead, learn, and grow.

A newly lit fire can easily be suffocated under too much fuel. Too often though, we suffocate our dreams under the weight of our past.

To help you re-kindle your own flame, consider:

What will help you step back, reflect, and listen to your own heart? What can you do to create an oasis of calm in which to connect deeply within yourself?

Who is the deepest part of you? “Who is the you that you have left behind in the midst of all your responsibilities?” Describe who that person is.

When have you been most deeply satisfied in your life? Felt most alive? Most powerful? Most Connected? Most creative? Most at peace?

What do these answers reveal about your deep nature?

When you live from your deep nature, what calls to you? What is “your world” that you are discovering?

“At your core, you know who you are,

and you know what you want.”

Lao Tzu

“Individuality rises out of the soul as water rises out of the depths of the earth.”  Thomas Moore

Early in 2009, inspired by commitment to adventure and inner journeying by other friends, I took a deep breath, and planned: 10 days of solo paddling and camping in my spiritual home – the deep north woods of Ontario’s Quetico wilderness.

Why? Partially, to celebrate one year of independence, having completed a collaborative divorce (yes, this is possible) the year before, and one year of growing healthy inter-dependence with friends.

But honestly, I did not know why. I knew that deep solitude, was what I longed for. I wanted a chance to re-connect deeply within me, and with the world. A chance to let go of all the places I was still holding… still holding onto the life I had planned…. a chance to deeply accept the unacceptable. A chance to heal.

Before I went, I was nervous. If I injured myself in the wilds, and could not travel, it could be days or weeks before I’d be found. While competent paddling solo, I’d never paddled the small lightweight solo canoe I’d be paired with – I felt like I was going off to meet a mail-order bride!

So, despite my fears, what helped me go?

Luckily, I was not afraid of being lonely. I love the company of pine trees, loons, and night skies. I was eager to be out – my aloneness leaving no barriers between me and life.

I could remind myself that I knew what I was doing. For I truly did.

The pivotal moment though, in the see-saw of obligations and fears vs. longing and inner knowing, was a gift. A long time friend, paddling partner, and almost-husband from my twenties sent me a treasure of an email, encouraging me on after I queried him about my plans. “You’ll do fine in a solo boat.  Your strength and joy in that environment will glow radiant.  It is a happy thought.”

Thanks Rob. The power of truth. The power of gifts we can give each other. I did not believe him because he said it; I believed him because my body resonated with the truth of his words. My head might have its concerns, but my body, my deep inner knowing, knew he was right. This trip was about opening to joy.

Bone-deep certain now of my expedition’s value to reconnect me with my own light, I sought out gifts and loans from other friends to remind me of our connections – a simple spoon with which I ate each meal, a feather-light solo tent, a special sleeping pad. Words of inspiration in my trip journal. This one stands out, and I carried it within:

“Stay safe, and keep your heart open to every experience.”

Thus buoyed by friends, I did. Here’s what I found:

A felt sense of wholeness inside myself. In every cell, a sense of “being enough” – no longer searching for external approval, or love, or direction. A sense that I could be complete, in and of myself… connected with the vastness of life.

I was at home inside myself. At peace. Flowing with the rhythms from sunrise to sunset, listening to my inner guidance on where and how far to go each day… I found I really could take care of me.

Near the end of my 150 mile trip, I saw a majestic turtle swimming in shallow water just below me, sunlight revealing her multi-hued home. Three times the size of any other turtle I’d seen in the north country, she was deep inspiration to me – almost as if my whole trip had been to allow me to glimpse her there, at peace in those waters.

She carried her safety with her, wherever she went. She could choose when to extend out, and when to rest within her shell. So can I. We all can.

She was always Home. And so are we.

I grew this precious internal sense of wholeness, safety, and grace in the midst of sweet challenge – a cliff-steep trail, an insistent headwind across miles of open water, balancing on logs traversing thigh-deep bogs, choosing which rapids to portage.

For I moved through this country very differently than I had in my old tomboy days. I did not toughen against challenge, but instead softened. Every day, I took time to nap, softening my frame into granite’s sun-warmed embrace.

Moving this way carried me farther, with more joy, than my old tough-it-out ways. I found myself paddling as many miles, traveling solo at 48, as I had ever paddled tandem. The boat (a Bell ‘Magic’) had something to do with it.

But so did grace.

After five months of savoring the grace of my own vibrant shell and my circle of community, I am ready to write again. To share as generously and as widely as friends have shared with me. For I now know that this precious sense of fullness, wholeness, and safety that I found in solitude…. is here to stay.

What is the journey your heart longs for?

Where is your spiritual home?

What helps you feel more deeply at home inside yourself?

What support could you seek out to help your dreams come true?