Living and Loving Fearlessly

“Life will break you.

Nobody can protect you from that,

and living alone won’t either,

for solitude will also break you with its yearning.

You have to love.

You have to feel.

It is the reason you are here on earth.

You are here to risk your heart.

You are here to be swallowed up.

And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near,

Let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps,

Wasting their sweetness.

Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.”
― Louise Erdrich, The Painted Drum LP

Photo by Robert Sturman

Yesterday I found a new role mode, in an Elephant Journal article by Robert Sturman about The Guiness Book of Records reigning oldest living yoga teacher, 93 year old Tao Porchon Lynch.   As impressive as her strength and flexibility are for someone of any age, let alone a nonagenarian, it is much more than her physical prowess that enchants me about this radiant being.

For not only does she love yoga, but also wine and dancing the tango.

In a interview with Tara Stiles-Parker, she credits her longevity and zest for living to proper breathing and making a concerted effort to think positive thoughts, along with a nightly shoulder stand before bed each night.     She eschews fear and procrastination, simply doing the next right thing without delay.

She beams and twinkles with a light that simply dazzles me.

“Smile at everyone”

She advises as she illustrates the phenomenal magnetism of her charismatic charm.

This is how I want to live my life.

Waking up grateful for each new day,

thrilled by the prospect of all that I can learn,

all the wonderful places and beautiful people to be met,

making the most of the great gift of life

and blessing all I see with a smile.

Tears are a river that take you somewhere

©istockphoto/giovanecek

MATER DOLOROSA: THE UN-RUINED HEART

“It is said by the old women of the family that the hilts of the swords piercing Our Lady’s heart are shaped like the curling sepals which protect the buds of roses..

..that with prayer and time, each sword hilt will burst into seven fragrant roses, blooming again and again, because suffering brings the rain of tears, because the rain of tears waters the earth, because moisture on dry earth of our being is guaranteed to bring forth new life.

Tears are a river that take you somewhere… somewhere better, somewhere good.”

“The swords through your heart are not the ones which caused your wounds, but rather, these mighty swords of Strength were earned by your struggles through hard times.

Sword of Surrender: to withstand this time of learning.
Sword of Veils: to pierce the hidden meanings of this time.
Sword of Healing: to lance one’s own agony, bitterness.
Sword of New Life: to cut through, cut loose, plant anew.
Sword of Courage: to speak up, row on, touch others.
Sword of Life Force: to draw from, lean on, purify.
Sword of Love: often heaviest to lift consistently;
turns one away from war, to instead,
fall into the arms of Immaculate Strength.

O Immaculate Heart of My Mother,
give me shelter in the beautiful chambers of your heart.
Keep me strong, fierce, loving, and able in this world.
Remind me daily, that despite my imperfections,
my heart remains,
completely un-ruined.”

From the book “Untie the Strong Woman” by Clarissa Pinkola-Estés

The pierced heart above is found above the doorway of this little Italian Church. It was painted there in the 17th Century and has recently been restored. ©istockphoto/giovanecek

Guest Post about staffing the Woman Within Weekend by Amanda Boardman

I am driving away from a Woman Within weekend of staffing feeling so deeply fulfilled and connected to the women I worked alongside, the women who participated on the course and to all women everywhere. I think about the women around the world who do this work and the courage it takes to step into the fire and find the parts of yourself that you lost or buried years, months, or weeks ago. The parts that had to be shut away when the loss, hurt, betrayal, anger and grief of life lived on life’s terms became too much for your soul to bear. I think about the women who never get the chance to step within themselves, either because they’re too afraid or because their lives are such a struggle for survival that there are no resources to spare on finding one’s personal meaning for existence. I think too, of the many women who live in cultures and countries where women dare not have any voice at all.

Watching the four facilitators from the United States and the UK work with women this weekend, was like seeing miracles take place in front of my eyes. These women are so powerful yet so in touch with their vulnerability.  I have been shown a new form of leadership. In fact, a new way of being in the world. These women have spent decades on their own journeys and in facilitating other women’s processes.  Their complete presence when helping a woman process an issue is awe-inspiring. At the same time, their humility is astounding. Witnessing divine compassion radiate from a woman’s face while deep in facilitation, I knew I was watching God’s work.

I drive across the mountains towards my home, knowing that this weekend I stopped all the busyness of everyday living and made space to touch my own soul. My soul is grateful. I sing the songs we sang on the weekend just so I can hear once more the joyous sounds of women supporting each other. When I reach my house, I turn off the car and feel the waves of grief rush up and pour down my face. I don’t know if I am crying for all my own old wounds  or for the individual women who laid forth their grief in all its rawness this weekend. They did this so that together we could nurture them back to the joy that I believe is our birthright. I cry with abandon for all the women who cannot cry. The women who dare not express their grief in case it consumes them. Until they are able to, I will cry for them. I sit in my car and I cry for lost love. I cry for the agony of betrayal.  I cry for the shockingly numerous stories of sexual and emotional abuse often at the hands of people supposed to protect us.

As I cry, my tears change to tears of gratitude that I am able to witness this type of transformation. I let it all out, knowing that this is just a release. I am OK. When I am done, I get out my suitcase and start singing softly as I make my way inside,

“We are women on a journey,

Shining like the sun.

Shining through the darkest night,

The healing has begun, begun, the healing has begun.”