Standing on the Ground


Awake at 4:30 this morning, I have choices. I can lay there and pretend to sleep while worrying about the election and the world and climate and difficult people. I can muse about conversations yesterday and decisions I made. I can plan ahead my day and foresee any problems I can solve now even though I don’t know what they are yet. I can worry about the future of my loved ones as they struggle. I can listen to music and relax.


Who else is in my head besides me? Honestly, sometimes my mother, my father, my kids, a sister or two, my Science teacher, Nurse Hayward from elementary school, a priest, a minister, friends, old boss. The list goes on and on and varies as my mind swims through my memories.


Sometimes I don’t feel in charge of my mind as thoughts wander in and out. I should know better than to allow intruding thoughts in! It’s disturbing. It’s undermining. It’s triggering. What will happen with the election? What if I miss something? What if we lose electricity and I can’t see the news? What if it rains on Tuesday? What if I get sick and I’m working the polls? What if I run into her? Why can’t I remember to say what I really feel? What if they hear my thoughts? I have a three-ring circus going on inside my mind. It’s all too much.


Look at my feet. Look at my feet. They are standing on the ground. I’ve had these feet since I was a baby. What an amazing thought. They grew without my doing anything. My bones are strong now and hold me up so I can stand. I know what sand feels like when I’m standing on the beach. Granules peek up through my toes and I can squish my feet into the warm sand. The sun warms the sand. I can feel the sun and it heats up the squishy sand. I feel the warm air tingling my skin from the light breeze. Now I hear birds and see the undulating of the ocean as it ebbs and flows in waves like my breath. I am one with the water. Back and forth. In and out. I am one with my breath. I am one.


I want to live in the beach scene. I don’t want to live in the circus. I call it a hard reset when I have to interrupt my railroading thoughts and slam in a roadblock. Roadblocks look like images of beaches or sounds of soothing music or videos of inspirational speakers or body movement to music that soothes my soul or creativity using art, or exercising or singing or taking a shower. The list goes on and on and varies as my mind swims through my memories of things I love to do.


I stand at the doorway to my mind and allow in what I deem helpful for my peaceful existence. I know what’s going on in the world without engaging in the circus. I know I can get distracted and in walks trouble with a capital TV news anchor announcing the hype and hoopla. I walk away. I know there are times I open my heart to a friend and they want to talk about the doom and gloom. I steer the conversation to comfort and ease. Sometimes the day is filled with flip flopping. My intention is to be present at my doorway and do my best. My intention is to be in charge of how much I take in before I hit the tipping point and slip into quiet hysteria.


Life is intense right now. History will memorialize the struggles we are living in. It isn’t easy. I believe I chose to be on this earth at this point for a reason. I believe we will get through this. I believe our death-phobic society is redefining its irrational ideals about death to determine transition is a key to living a full life. I believe struggling hearts are cracking opening and learning to feel. I believe this is the great awakening I’ve heard predicted for years now and it has arrived.


I choose peace as the world around me carries on.

I choose actions that support my truth

I trust I will find my center again

I trust my adult skills to problem solve issues that arise

I choose to engage with what I know supports my needs.

I practice gratitude for my choices and extend gratitude to others

Erasing the Line by Danna Faulds


The pagan priestess of my soul

Already knows many answers.

She leans out over the waters

Of life and peers beneath the waves.