“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?

“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle, or the mirror that reflects it.”   Edith Wharton

Last night, in the small hours, I woke to see our lake listening to the near-full moon, mirroring back a magnificent swath of light.   This was a time-stands-still moment, a be-still-and-pay-attention kind of moment.

It is easy for us to automatically equate action, and speech, with value and worth, and inaction and quiet with lack of value.  Yet, without stillness, there is no center point to find and return home to; there is no clarity about what matters most, there is no ability to fully open to what is around us.  Ultimately, there is no ability to deeply listen to others, or ourselves.

What is the gift we give when we listen with our full presence?

Magnification.  While the moon itself last night was lovely, the lake’s rendition of moonlight was magic.  Under gentle night breeze, this swath of light, a blend of the best moon and lake had to offer, pulsated with aliveness. 

If this is difficult to imagine translating to the human world, think of someone dear to you. Witness the way full presence, and deep listening, bring out their best qualities.  In comparison, notice the way distracted attention brings out something very different.  (The same is true with our own work; experiment with listening deeply into the question of what matters most today…. and notice what emerges!)

We all have this same nature underneath, and the ability to both offer and be touched by full presence.   This is a gift we can give and receive.  

What is the value that deep listening brings?

At our core, we are built for connection.  From an evolutionary standpoint, we are made to thrive with others, not alone.   Being able to be deeply present, and listen with full attention, is one of our fundamental ways of contributing to thriving connection, benefiting self and other. 

How do we cultivate the ability to listen so fully that we can help others bring out the best in themselves?

We always have two places to look to cultivate abilities: our stories (the meaning we create and the value we give), and practice.    In this case, these weave together beautifully.  Most of us are hungry for deep connection, such that attentive practice will reveal its own value.

Practice first cultivating your own stillness.  

This is the connection between the quality of presence and deep listening, for we cannot be thinking (listening to ourselves) and listening to another as the same time.

What will help you cultivate inner stillness?  Meditation?  Time in nature?  Centered breathing?

Then practice something foreign to many of us: when you listen, do nothing else. Simply bring your full attention to the one you are listening to.   Let yourself be the lake, with no other task, than mirroring the moon.

You can practice this with music, in nature, with animals… with any experience in which you commit to bringing your undivided wholeness.

You may be swimming upstream when you do….

This is the absolute opposite of multi-tasking….

And the gifts you cultivate, both for yourself and for others, will magnify over time.   

So practice.  And notice…

Where are you called to listen fully in your life?

“Nobody ever said this would be easy, this process of evolving.“ 

The following poem by Rashini reminds me that I achieve wholeness by willingly traversing even the most challenging portions of the trail.  

This is a poem for those moments we all reach at some point, when we each need reminding that the “only way out is through.”   I find that both literally – hiking a steep trail, or portaging a canoe on a seemingly endless carry between lakes – and metaphorically  - through both work and personal travails – I find success in two ways: accepting what is, and keeping one eye toward where I am going.

On a long carry between lakes, often through dense forest cover, accepting what is means I don’t fight my canoe’s mass pressing down into my shoulders.  I move with vs. against my challenges.  I keep my breath relaxed and low, stay fully present with my own sensations and each attentively placed footfall amidst moss-covered rocks, across fallen timber, or skirting the edges of deep bog.  

At the same time, I keep my vision in mind: where am I heading, and why.   This thread helps steady me and keep my going through every challenge.   On a portage, this vision is ‘the first glorious glimpse of blue’ – that first sighting of water between trees that helps me know that I do have all I need, that I will succeed, that I will reach water once again.

 We all will.   With willingness, center, breath, and vision, we will all reach the water on the other side.

But Rashini says it better than I do…

There is brokenness

out of which comes the

unbroken,

a shatteredness out of

which blooms the unshatterable.

There is sorrow

beyond all grief which leads

to joy

and fragility

out of whose depths emerges

strength.

There is a hollow space

too vast for words

through which we pass

with each loss

out of whose darkness we

are sanctioned into being.

There is a cry deeper than

all sound

whose serrated edges cut

into the heart

as we break open

to the place inside which

is unbreakable

and whole

while learning to sing.

What helps you cultivate willingness?

What helps you center inside of challenge so that you can stop fighting ‘what is’?

What is your vision? 

What will help you stay in touch with your vision every day, no matter how challenging the trail?

“If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, that would be enough.”  —Meister Eckhart  

 Here is another gratitude practice.  This one is especially rich for cultivating aliveness.  Why does this matter?

The more change is unfolding ‘out there’ in the world, the more vital it is to cultivate a solid home base of vitality and aliveness in our own bodies.  Especially as leaders, this practice of internal cultivation can strengthen our resiliency and stamina such that we are able to stay proactive longer – truly in a leadership stance – through periods of pronounced change.

This practice is not about toughness though. It’s about comfort.  Read on.

Do you remember as a kid, ever taking a nap when you could hear family around? Perhaps you were snuggled and warm, and comforted by hearing familiar voices around you.  

As adults, we don’t often get that “nap on the couch” feeling.   Yet, every day, right where we are, we have the ability to open wide the doors of our hearts, and to cultivate that feeling,  when we remember “our place in the family of things.”  (Mary Oliver- see below!)  

Here is the practice:

On rising each morning, greet the great outdoors.  (Yes, actually go outside to do this…!)  Notice temperature, light, sounds, air movement, and the smell of morning.   What do you see?  What do you hear?   What of the natural world can you notice, connect with, and appreciate, on waking each day?

Regardless of weather, there is at least still one thread of beauty.  Open your eyes to that thread.  All of us, no matter our path or our challenges, have a home in the natural world. Sometimes we forget, and lose touch.  Some seasons, or locations, we may like better than others.

Yet, what can you surprise yourself by noticing today, right where you are?

Let your experience each morning, of noticing and appreciating, right where you are, help you both notice and focus on the good,

and open your heart to what is to come.

Wild Geese 

 You do not have to be good. 

You do not have to walk on your knees 

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. 

You only have to let the soft animal of your body 

love what it loves. 

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. 

Meanwhile the world goes on. 

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain 

are moving across the landscapes, 

over the prairies and the deep trees, 

the mountains and the rivers. 

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, 

are heading home again. 

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, 

the world offers itself to your imagination, 

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–

over and over announcing your place 

in the family of things.

Mary Oliver