We were both cold from the summer night in Davis Square. I had been enjoying an Oreo scoop...a love I finally rekindled after many years of remaining cookie free. It tasted of sweet goodness after my patience settled in. Of novelty and wholeness. My friend was getting goosebumps from the chill, so we decided to take our ice cream right on home and say our goodbyes. And on our way, three little boys began to circle the square with bright green pamphlets in their hand.
The shortest of the three, with a ribbed T-shirt and spiked hair, probably no more than 12 years old, came our way.
"Miss, we are trying to get to soccer camp."
He was terrified, but the words emerged from within, and I turned my attention toward him and the other two boys. I felt what struggle it might have been for him to muster up the courage to speak to us. My heart was open and welcoming.
"Well, we have a raffle and we are asking for donations. we know it's a lot, but" he said.
"How much?" my friend said.
"Ten, miss. Ten dollars," he said.
There was a pause between us five. And in this moment, I began to hesitate. I have been waiting on a job and had just spent some money and time with a good friend. The reasons to say no ran through my head, and I couldn't believe the fear. Why this fear? It is money. Paper. It had never meant much to me because life was so rich, the night so sweet. It would mean the world to them, and I could tell by their look.
Sarah, what are you doing?!
And I know that this is the light speaking to me. This is Source. This is Love and I will do God's work with joy. With passion.
We both reach for our wallets, and gave two ten dollar bills.
Their faces lit the night and they moved inward toward us. It was as though their whole lives people had told them no. I know that my higher purpose doesn't know that word. Source doesn't know what is missing. It only knows how to give.
This is my goal. Endless, limitless love. And if I want to be more like Source Energy, the energy in which we all came from and return to, the goal of my life is to live this higher purpose. To trust in humanity when everyone is thinking of what is missing, I will give.
"Miss, you have no idea how much this makes our night. You've made such a difference, thank you miss" the eldest said.
The pleasure was shared by all, and the beauty of Oneness seeped deep into our skin, permeating in a symphony of love.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
And if We Asked, What of a Talking Drum?
She wore a beautiful lapa with deep red and orange prints all over her body. Her feet were bare and her voice was omnipotent. Sweat covered her back and the live drumming caused a momentary lapse in my normal audition. But my heart was beating to the rhythm as I listened to the instructor's chants. It was as though every single one of us in beginner african dance were amazed at the spiritual release the class was to provide. A hidden secret to unfold outside of the class description.
We started out in five rows, from the most experienced to the least. I was in the fourth row, watching the moves I had to learn by the time my turn arrived. We weren't told what the moves meant, only that it was important to follow the drumming. To keep in rhythm. To STAY in rhythm.
And like life, the release was gradual. I began to swing my arms wider, beat my feet to the ground with twice as much force, and stretch my hands further out to reach the harvest. To eat the food before me.
"You have to eat the food, put it to your mouth! Reach down to the floor with force in your arms! You have to want it... you are not wanting it! You have to love and devour it! Now, we try again" the instructor said.
And for the second time, I began to bend lower to the ground to grab my food, hold onto it, and to enjoy the sign of imaginary abundance. I swung my arms up to the sky and bent my back lower to the ground, my feet in rhythm, and all the years of jazz training, finally shattered. I had been craving this kind of nourishment for quite some time.
She began to chant. "GRAB IT!" She was hovering over me, beckoning me to reach all the way to the floor and fling my body back up to the sky to give thanks for what I had caught. And then I felt it...the joy of abundance that I have come to understand, and a woman with such passion, teaching me to grab my tribal food and commence in the meaning of spirit, of want and desire...of the power of intention. Yes, yes, yes. One thousand times or more I couldn't thank her enough for this single lesson.
She gets it, and yes'm, so do I.
We started out in five rows, from the most experienced to the least. I was in the fourth row, watching the moves I had to learn by the time my turn arrived. We weren't told what the moves meant, only that it was important to follow the drumming. To keep in rhythm. To STAY in rhythm.
And like life, the release was gradual. I began to swing my arms wider, beat my feet to the ground with twice as much force, and stretch my hands further out to reach the harvest. To eat the food before me.
"You have to eat the food, put it to your mouth! Reach down to the floor with force in your arms! You have to want it... you are not wanting it! You have to love and devour it! Now, we try again" the instructor said.
And for the second time, I began to bend lower to the ground to grab my food, hold onto it, and to enjoy the sign of imaginary abundance. I swung my arms up to the sky and bent my back lower to the ground, my feet in rhythm, and all the years of jazz training, finally shattered. I had been craving this kind of nourishment for quite some time.
She began to chant. "GRAB IT!" She was hovering over me, beckoning me to reach all the way to the floor and fling my body back up to the sky to give thanks for what I had caught. And then I felt it...the joy of abundance that I have come to understand, and a woman with such passion, teaching me to grab my tribal food and commence in the meaning of spirit, of want and desire...of the power of intention. Yes, yes, yes. One thousand times or more I couldn't thank her enough for this single lesson.
She gets it, and yes'm, so do I.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Toes in the Tide
I set out to run yesterday with the goal that I was not to come back until I had the power of intention mastered in the palm of my sweaty hands.
I felt sweet breezes and the flow of neighboring joggers and late sprinters on the Tufts University track. We ran in unison, huffing and puffing. Some runners were leaping while others slumped, probably getting the deed done so that supper and television could ensue.
Many things happened on this jog. I huffed out questions to the universe:
How can I manifest abundance?
How can I learn to see the signs set before me?
How can I begin to fulfill my higher purpose in life?
And affirmations:
From now on, I trust the divine intelligence of the universe.
I source from my higher-self, which knows no limits
From here on out, I trust, love, and respect every moment in my life
Everything was and always will be exactly as it should--perfect, and with purpose
The moon was encased by a swirl of evening clouds. My grandmother's floral necklace bounced against my chest. My knees ached but my paced picked up. I wasn't to stop until I had the answers.
And then there was this little boy. He was about three with brown skin and brown eyes, running around the lanes and about to collide with the runners. I moved him out of the way and brought him back to the center field. As his father came back from what seemed like a mesmeric run, I turned to wave goodbye to the little boy. His face lit up with laughter, and he chuckled at the silly faces I was making. He was safe in our minute together. And it was in this very moment that I understood everything, all too well.
In some cosmic way, his safety was my job for just a split second in time. And our laughter together...the belly laughs that emanated from his tiny little body became my safety, too. My reminder, my comfort. The universe always takes care, and allows us to take care of each other. Everything is, and always will be, perfect.
We just have to be willing to run on the path to process, and learn to detach from the race.
I felt sweet breezes and the flow of neighboring joggers and late sprinters on the Tufts University track. We ran in unison, huffing and puffing. Some runners were leaping while others slumped, probably getting the deed done so that supper and television could ensue.
Many things happened on this jog. I huffed out questions to the universe:
How can I manifest abundance?
How can I learn to see the signs set before me?
How can I begin to fulfill my higher purpose in life?
And affirmations:
From now on, I trust the divine intelligence of the universe.
I source from my higher-self, which knows no limits
From here on out, I trust, love, and respect every moment in my life
Everything was and always will be exactly as it should--perfect, and with purpose
The moon was encased by a swirl of evening clouds. My grandmother's floral necklace bounced against my chest. My knees ached but my paced picked up. I wasn't to stop until I had the answers.
And then there was this little boy. He was about three with brown skin and brown eyes, running around the lanes and about to collide with the runners. I moved him out of the way and brought him back to the center field. As his father came back from what seemed like a mesmeric run, I turned to wave goodbye to the little boy. His face lit up with laughter, and he chuckled at the silly faces I was making. He was safe in our minute together. And it was in this very moment that I understood everything, all too well.
In some cosmic way, his safety was my job for just a split second in time. And our laughter together...the belly laughs that emanated from his tiny little body became my safety, too. My reminder, my comfort. The universe always takes care, and allows us to take care of each other. Everything is, and always will be, perfect.
We just have to be willing to run on the path to process, and learn to detach from the race.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Strong Insight, in Flight
I have had two instances in which I am half asleep and experiencing a meta-physical moment that I believe is my stronger, higher-self speaking. These moments are incredibly rare but I move forward with them, marinating in wonderment.
It happened for the second time this morning. The night before, I spent an hour meditating, intending, and bringing my wants and needs into existence. I spent the time in the splendor of my imagination, dreaming in pastels and beckoning health, wealth, and happiness my way. I began to feel what it should feel like to want and love what I have been offered in life. I began to feel the feelings of what the deepest happiness could bring to my life. I felt all the love I needed in the world to keep on keeping on. It was astonishing, connecting spirit, emotion, and intention together in a magical orchestra that only the universe conducts.
I was sleeping in a bed, surrounded by a forest that overlooked hills with a multitude of red and magenta flowers. Beyond the hills was a horizon of city buildings, watching me as I slept in my forest bed. I was wearing my sleep mask, and could peek out at the ground below. In a moment, a small chestnut colored bird landed on my nose, flickering its' wings and chirping. His feathers tickled my nose and eye lashes, cradled under my mask. I thought, should I push it away? But the tickles made me laugh and the chirping made my heart swell. So I let it stay on my nose, singing.
It was a sundae of sunday merriment, and waking up seemed doable.
Livable.
Jubilant, and Fearless.
It happened for the second time this morning. The night before, I spent an hour meditating, intending, and bringing my wants and needs into existence. I spent the time in the splendor of my imagination, dreaming in pastels and beckoning health, wealth, and happiness my way. I began to feel what it should feel like to want and love what I have been offered in life. I began to feel the feelings of what the deepest happiness could bring to my life. I felt all the love I needed in the world to keep on keeping on. It was astonishing, connecting spirit, emotion, and intention together in a magical orchestra that only the universe conducts.
I was sleeping in a bed, surrounded by a forest that overlooked hills with a multitude of red and magenta flowers. Beyond the hills was a horizon of city buildings, watching me as I slept in my forest bed. I was wearing my sleep mask, and could peek out at the ground below. In a moment, a small chestnut colored bird landed on my nose, flickering its' wings and chirping. His feathers tickled my nose and eye lashes, cradled under my mask. I thought, should I push it away? But the tickles made me laugh and the chirping made my heart swell. So I let it stay on my nose, singing.
It was a sundae of sunday merriment, and waking up seemed doable.
Livable.
Jubilant, and Fearless.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Which will
The thought that hard work brings to life the shift from ambition to meaning, is partially true.
The sweat, blood and tears from the start of life up until this point has taught me many things. I have grown out of the shell that withheld the confidence I eventually strained out and embraced in college. I slipped out of my sweaty clothes and felt the breeze of ease in everything I sought to learn. My blood is now very much alive, rich, and giving. I am forever thankful.
Tomorrow is my interview. Everything I have wanted, fought for, and will continue to fight for has lead up to this moment. Every outline, study guide, manuscript, story, lesson, curriculum, leadership meeting, paper, project, fax, and copy I have created has taught me what I need for this job.
This job is a dream. And the angels are soaring, smiling, and delighting in this fact with me.
Hard work has paid off, with ease.
Which will I go for?
Which path can it be?
I don't know which way I'll go, but I know I'll get there.
The sweat, blood and tears from the start of life up until this point has taught me many things. I have grown out of the shell that withheld the confidence I eventually strained out and embraced in college. I slipped out of my sweaty clothes and felt the breeze of ease in everything I sought to learn. My blood is now very much alive, rich, and giving. I am forever thankful.
Tomorrow is my interview. Everything I have wanted, fought for, and will continue to fight for has lead up to this moment. Every outline, study guide, manuscript, story, lesson, curriculum, leadership meeting, paper, project, fax, and copy I have created has taught me what I need for this job.
This job is a dream. And the angels are soaring, smiling, and delighting in this fact with me.
Hard work has paid off, with ease.
Which will I go for?
Which path can it be?
I don't know which way I'll go, but I know I'll get there.
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