Labyrinth in the Morning Light

Labyrinth in the Morning Light

What hurts you, blesses you. Darkness is your candle. Rumi 

These pains you feel are messengers. Listen to them. Rumi

Before this day, the morning after election day here in the U.S., dawned I woke thinking about patience: the need to be patient as all votes are counted, the need to be patient with uncertainty, the need to be patient with myself and the swirls of thoughts and feelings, the need to be patient with each other … each and every ‘other’.

As I waited for the darkness outside to lighten so that I could venture out to walk the labyrinth in the woods outback, I was drawn to Rumi. What did he have to say about patience?

Patience is not sitting and waiting, it is foreseeing. It is looking at the thorn and seeing the rose, looking at the night and seeing the day. Lovers are patient and know that the moon needs time to become full.

This day I find it difficult to see the ‘rose’ amid the thorn. Indeed, thorns seem to outnumber roses. I have no doubt that soon the sun will rise, but how will I light my day in what feels a dark time? How will I pivot to my deep knowing that the Universe is unfolding in divine perfect order, despite and interpretations I may have to the contrary?

I take my swirl to the labyrinth. Coyote, the wise jokester, howls in the distance. I chuckle wondering just what he may know that I haven’t yet discovered. I walk slowly toward the center, hand on my heavy heart, asking that heart to be open and to light the path ahead. Reaching the center, I thank the four directions, Mother Earth, the sky and all above. I begin the slow walk out, the heaviness of my load lightened just a bit.

Questions begin to form: How will I stay present to the perfection of this time and of however events unfold in the days ahead? How will I invite the darkness to inform me, to be my candle? What are the messages of the pain I feel? Of the pain I see in others? How will I remember to make choices from a loving heart and from understanding that this time is just a blip on the infinite timeline of existence? How do I live the truth that every blip matters to my/to our evolution, learning, and growth?

‘This’ time, these events, my swirls of thoughts and feelings matter. My sadness, my anger, my worry each matter. So do my love, my compassion and my patience. My curiosity matters. My care matters. My gratitude matters. My thoughtfulness matters. My questions about how to be and how to participate matter. Yours too. All our swirls of thoughts and feelings matter as does how we BE with them and what we DO in response to the world that we are in and the world that we are co-creating with each (and every) other and with Source.

I’m at peace with having more questions than answers in this moment. I don’t know how a collective pivot toward love (click here if you missed last week’s post) might unfold. I’m curious about how to create economic systems and systems of governance that work for all. I’m curious how I will navigate the coming days and beyond and what may emerge in this space in the weeks ahead. And, yes, I’m curious about who will win the Presidential election and how that result will be met with each of us.

Sunset on Election Day

Sunset on Election Day

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