Messages from the Universe Via...Me

I started the day after Ash Wednesday. For those who don’t know that day, Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of the Lenten Season in Christian tradition and was on February 26 this year. I began my practice on February 27. Each day I created a 4” x 6” card, or occasionally two, with an image and a simple message. Some messages were ones I needed to hear on that particular day. Other messages felt like words I would need someday, but in the moment I was creating them for someone else. Someone else needed to see the words or the image.

I ended the practice on Sunday, April 5, not the official end of Lent, but the day I completed my 44th card. It simply felt like the right place to stop. On Monday I created one more card that was only color, no words, because...

I began the project with bigger plans for these cards. I wanted to create a simple and accessible way for others to be reminded of simple truths. I now begin the second part of the project: creating digital images, prints, and, what delights me most, a deck of cards; the wordless image will likely be the back of them. I use wisdom cards, oracle cards, other cards in my own spiritual practice. They are one way I lean into Spirit- to receive a reminder, a message, a confirmation of things I know but may not be trusting in the moment. I hope that others will use them this way or whatever way makes sense to them.

Today I leave you the words from each card. My hope is that you will find the message you need right now. Maybe you want to write it out for yourself. Maybe you want to create your own image. Maybe you want to say the words aloud. Maybe you want to journal about one message or another. Maybe you want to adjust some words, because my wording isn’t quite right for you. Maybe you want to do some other beautiful thing with them. Whatever you do with them, if anything, I hope you receive them as a gift. Here are my original cards and below them are all 44 messages.

I am allowed to rest.

My body is wise. I trust my body’s WISDOM.

I am allowed to SHINE!

I am allowed to say NO.

I am allowed to say YES to ME.

What act of kindness am I offering myself today?

I choose to befriend my fear.

I am an expression of Divine Love…and so is everyone else, but some of us have forgotten.

I plant my feet on the ground to Root Myself.

Love is my constant guide.

I am allowed to PLAY!

I am allowed to express my needs.

I am allowed to feel all the feelings.

Caring for the world includes caring for myself because I am a part of the world.

I allow myself to trust that I am lovingly HELD.

In every moment I am doing the best I can. My best doesn’t always look the same.

When I know and express my BOUNDARIES, I make it easier for myself and others to honor them.

I listen to my body and SLOW DOWN when she asks me to.

In the face of uncertainty I choose to breathe deeply.

In every moment I have POWER and I have CHOICE.

I treat my fear, anger, anxiety, and overwhelm with care and I ask for help when I struggle to do it myself.

I allow myself time and space to tune in to my own deep wisdom.

I am a vital part of the web of life.

Sometimes I give. Sometimes I receive. Both are beautiful.

I am allowed not to be fine.

Joy is planted in me. I tend it, so it grows.

I am a light in the world, even when I can’t sense my own light.

I choose curiosity over judgement.

Even in turmoil, I find comfort and peace.

I accept myself, broken, whole, beautiful. Always beautiful.

I am willing to dive into the well of emotions beneath my anger.

I am allowed not to know.

I trust that my BEING is valuable- here, now, everywhere, always.

I am allowed to grieve.

I am allowed to celebrate beauty and every joyful moment.

What am I shedding? What new growth is alive in me?

I trust myself. I trust my community. I trust Spirit.

I am breathing. I am grateful. I take note of the many gifts in my life.

I trust that I am accompanied and supported.

I am allowed to ask for help.

My emotions are my teachers. I choose to learn from them.

I accept the messy, beautiful flow of LIFE.

In challenging times, I lean into cReaTivity.

I trust in abundance.

if you choose to play with these words, I’d love to know what you do with them. Please share!

Blessings to you.

Riding the Roller Coaster Together

On April 1 I posted this question on Facebook: Who else had been hoping to wake up this morning to hear that the last few weeks were all just a sick extended April Fool's joke? 

Of course, it's not. This is very real. The most apt analogy I know is that of a roller coaster. A very long emotional roller coaster that none of us chose; the entire world is in its cars.  

Some of us are terrified all the time, whether we're upright or upside down, moving quickly or slowly. Some of us are angry that we were forced onto the ride. Some of us are anxious because we don't know what's ahead. Some of us are anxious because we have ideas about what's ahead. Some of us are grieving the things we can't experience while on the ride. Some of us are grieving the cars that derailed. Some of us are sick. Some of us are excited about certain parts of the ride. Some of us are hanging on tighter to our co-riders. Some of us are distraught because we're the only one in our particular car and we can't reach anyone in another car. Some of us feel calm, even though we've never ridden this ride before, hopeful that we'll get through it.

For many of us, our emotional state depends on where we are on the ride- going up a long slow hill, at the peak about to speed down in a seeming free fall, sideways going so fast around a curve that our body is jolted, upside down hoping our restraints don't fail us. Our emotions can change from high to low in the blink of an eye- from calm to anxious to angry to sad to hopeful. Sometimes we experience seemingly contradictory emotions all at once. This is a normal response to not normal times. 

Regardless of where we are on the ride, remember that we are all doing our best and sometimes our best looks fan-frickin'-tastic and sometimes it looks bleak. Our best doesn't always look the same.

Regardless of where you are, you are doing your best and sometimes your best looks fan-frickin'-tastic and sometimes it looks bleak. Your best doesn't always look the same.  

My deep hope is that we will be gentle with ourselves. My deep hope is that we will be gentle with each other. We are all in this together. 

We are all in this together. 

We are all in this together. 

As my mind cycles through scarcity and abundance thinking, I offer myself the above reminder a lot. Many times a day. We are all in this together. We are all in this together. I trust that as I offer care in the way I'm able, I, too, will receive care. Maybe it's easy to trust that because of my many points of privilege. In my life, I have always been ok. Whatever the source, I will continue to practice trusting. It is a practice. An experiment.

The roller coaster is giving us all sorts of opportunities, some welcome, many not, to practice and experiment. With meditation and breathing practices. With new was of connecting to loved ones we can't see. With new ways of disconnecting from our family or housemates when we're spending far more time together than we're used to. With finding activities that bring us joy when things we'd normally do aren't currently available to us. With finding new routines for our days. With finding balance between caring for ourselves and caring for others. With so many areas of our lives. 

As you are experimenting and practicing, I imagine you're also looking for guidance. I know I am. Recently I read this article, Why You Should Ignore All That Coronavirus-Inspired Productivity Pressure, and offer it here as I found the perspective helpful and you might, too. 

And if you're needing a bit of beauty for your ears, I offer this rendition of Imagine. 

Wherever or however you are, I hope you are finding what you need to sustain you. Know that I am here, ready and willing to listen or offer what I'm able. 

We are all in this together.  

Re-writing Those Darn Old Stories

I just wrapped up a 5-week Compassionate Communication class. The last session of the class always focuses on self-empathy. That theme runs throughout the entire class, but we take a whole session at the end to delve into topic and practice. We identify some of the mean messages we tell ourselves- the ones that judge, criticize, shame, and blame. One of my teachers calls it the Path to Self-Destruction, or if taken to its greatest extreme, the Path to Suicide.

Somewhere along the way most of us have internalized unkind messages so deeply that we now hear them in our own voice and we believe them. Even when we develop habits that may serve our well-being (eating healthy foods, getting enough sleep, exercising), we might do them with an undertone of shame, blame, or threat to ourselves.

In the class, after identifying the self-violent messages, we notice the feelings associated with the message and the needs beneath the message. Seeing the needs, we name some strategies, small steps we might take to meet the needs that we’ve uncovered. I’ve noticed that sometimes people identify strategies that are just as unkind as the initial messages they’re working with- those “should,” “have to”, “need to” messages, or straight out demands, “Do this!” The strategies are still coming from a place of self-judgment, rather than self-understanding and compassion. In those cases, we may dig a little deeper into the person’s feelings and needs and then work together to brainstorm other ways to meet the needs that incorporate self-kindness.

In The Artist’s Way, one of the weekly tasks is to work with this (slightly modified) mantra: Treating myself like a precious gift makes me strong. I love this mantra. I use it when I notice myself getting all self-judgy. Recently I found myself in a storm of self-judgment, questioning my value to other people, and deeper than that, my value, period. Then I remembered my mantra. I wrote it in my journal enough times to move me out of the story of unworthiness and stagnation and into one of worthiness, one with a new plot line. In the new story, I was my own hero. I was kind to myself. I remembered that my worth is not dependent on anyone else’s opinions or actions toward me. I took action to meet my needs. I re-wrote the story. It felt good!

The tricky part about these stories is that when we re-write them, we may think we’ve done so with permanent ink. We celebrate! Then we look at the paper to see the ink fading to invisibility, and the old story appearing again.

It may take us by surprise. It may make us weary. “That again?” And we so we do the work again, re-write the story again, perhaps with new plot twists, perhaps with the ones that have been successful before. 

We’re all works in progress. Re-writing the story is an ongoing process. It’s a practice. It’s an experiment. We can do it alone, but I think it’s best when we find the right people to write with, the ones who can support us in becoming our own heroes and to whom we can offer the same.

Shall we write together?