New Dawn, New Day

Last night, just before early bed, I read a friends caring bridge journal entry: making great strides on a recent-onset debilitating illness, she wrote of seeing what life she can build with what she can still do.  I was humbled; clearly her eye is on opportunity, not just on limitation.  She is facing, and embracing, the challenge of remaking her life.

This morning, waking in early light, lime green covers strewn about, an inner call stirred, demanding that I get up.  Not sure what or why, I sensed it was a moment to say yes.

Finding vertical, I was greeted by a golden ripple of cloud filling the eastern sky, bouncing dream light up off the awakening lake.  Sun radiated through the glowing mass of clouds and connected with rain clouds downstream, setting off rainbows lifting from the lake.

Snuggling in my host’s fleece jacket, wrapping a beach towel over my bare legs, I grabbed my camera and headed for the dock.

Standing there, surrounded by light, I listened. What else did the knowing that pulled me awake have to say?   “Do not be afraid.”

Writing now, wind lifts fresh curls off the waves as dawn flows into day, and the lightest shower eases in, giving moisture to this breath of air, this message feels like:  Learn to write with abandon once again.  This whole glorious cacophony of light and wonder is at your back.  Set yourself free.

What else could one long for, than this aliveness, this beauty, this now?

Yes to listening.  Yes to honoring that voice within that leads with precision, pulling from slumber of all kinds.  Yes to remaking our lives in this changing world, facing, and embracing, whatever challenges emerge along the way.

After my last post, ‘Coming Home’, I’ve been chewing on this question.

What can give us that deep sense of belonging, that sweet sense that we are connected to something far greater than ourselves?

I know why it matters, the way in which a deeper sense of meaning, purpose, and connection helps us sustain and deepen our leadership journeys.

What clues can I glean, from 10 days of wilderness solitude, that might helps others access connection every day?

August 6, 2009. Day 2.  Mid-morning finds me wending my way northward up a thin ribbon of river.   20 miles from the nearest road head, I am solo-paddling my way deep into Canada’s Quetico wilderness, a river and lake-filled land of lichen-laced  cliffs, graceful pines, spruce spires, eagles and loons.

Rounding a bend thick with water lilies, I cross paths with a group of 6 male paddlers as they lift their boats down over a three-foot beaver dam.    They look trail-rounded – that healthy way in which, well experienced, wilderness immersion softens the angular lines of a person, gentles the eyes, quiets the soul.

With the last boat comes the patriarch of the group.

He looks at me with some consternation…. not knowing what to make of me in my solo boat.  He tenses.  Finally he blurts out, “what are you doing out here all by yourself?”

At another point in my life, I might have been offended… This time though, I simply smile, and ask, “what you are doing out here with so much company????”

My obvious ease appears to reassure him.  So does my able ascent of the dam.   He relaxes, turns his attention, and travels on.

And I, in that moment, hearing my own honest answer, I know why I am out solo. Within hours, instead of days, I am “in”. I am fully alive.  My senses, immersed. My mind, quiet.   My emotions, smooth. 

With no paddling partner to synchronize strokes and chat with, my listening was to loons in the distance, the call of nesting eagles, the rustling of birch leaves. Touch was the breeze on my face, and my wooden paddle in my hands.

Until that interchange at the beaver dam, I was so “in the flow,” so immersed in direct experience of life, I was not even conscious of how deeply I had shifted.

I was Home.

I was a sensory being, soaking in all the magnificence in which I was immersed. I was. literally, in awe.

Here’s the kicker though.  You don’t have to travel far from home and hike or paddle deep into the wilderness to access this.

Try this….  Take a few-minute nature break.  Let connection happen.

For just a few moments, sever your human cords… i-phones, laptops, conversations, everything.

Put your body outside, and breathe. (I know its winter now… we had a key saying at Outward Bound that proved endlessly true: “there is no inclement weather, only inadequate clothing”, so if you need to bundle up, please do!)

For a moment, just breathe.  Now feel your feet under you.

One at a time, tune into your senses.

What do you hear?   What do you smell?  What can you feel on your skin?

As I do, in this moment, stopping mid-paragraph to step onto my back patio, I hear the last drips of last night’s rain, feel velvet-moist air on my cheeks, see rain droplets bejeweled on last summer’s crabapples, watch mist caressing hills across the lake.

(Yes, I’ve chosen gorgeous country to live in… but even in the city… nature makes her way… where can you find her??)

Now notice your body. I notice my body slowing down.  My keyboard quickness is replaced with a slower rhythm.  My breath drops.  My mind becomes still, as I simply take in the blue green of rocky mountain juniper, the burgundy of native kinnikinnick.

Find a place in your body that is softening, even just a little bit, relaxing, expanding towards the world around you.   This morning, I find it in my cheeks – that velvety air – and my chest – watching grace unfold in the movement of mist over mountains.

Now expand this feeling.  Let it deepen, let is travel through you.  Let yourself be fluid. (We mostly are!)

What do you notice about the way your “radar”  – what you are aware of – has changed? When we listen deeply outside, we cannot be racing at the same time.  Taking in what is out there, appreciating, savoring, immediately shifts who and what I am.

Let this feeling, this opening, settle deep within.

You can take it with you. Softer ribs, a more open heart, a more relaxed jaw, an easier smile, a calmer mind ….all of these are accessible.

You can do this every day.  No matter where you are. Direct connection comes through our senses and is accessible anytime, anywhere.

In our daily lives, we can fall into a grand illusion of control.  It goes something like this:  “If I just think fast enough, plan carefully enough, work hard enough, I will be able to dictate the flow of my life. “

When I lapse into this high control mode… and in my life, I’ve sometimes done that for years, not just minutes or hours… a part of me dies.

“…we die on the day when our lives cease to be illuminated by the steady radiance , renewed daily, of a wonder, the source of which is beyond all reason.” Dag Hammarskjold , Diaries

When I am muscling for control, I miss being open to wonder.  I miss being open at all..and one day without nature connection… is one day too many… of being less than fully alive.

Yes, create and plant the seeds of your own dream, your own heroic journey…. and notice:

What does your soul hunger for, right now?

Thanks for reading.  If you like what you’ve found, feel free to pass this link on.  If you’d like to comment, I’d love to hear from you!  You can scroll to the bottom and click on “Leave a comment”  link, or email me directly, at Kim@InnerCompassLeadership.com

“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?