by susantara | Nov 25, 2020 | Spiritual Journey |
This Thanksgiving, I’m reflecting on what I’m most grateful for – what has supported me through this year. Here are my top 11 (because 11 is my favorite number, of course).
Birdsong
During the shutdown, when everything got cancelled and felt surreal and changed from day to day and sometimes even hour to hour, I was drawn to birdsong like never before. It was like a meditation bell that brought me out of my thoughts and into the present moment countless times a day. The songbirds cued me to notice my breathing and scan through my body to notice where I was holding tension so I could release it and invite greater ease.
It also seemed the birds were just living their lives, returning as they do every spring – regardless of how disrupted our human lives had become. Their melodic conversations uplifted me. It felt like a part of me could understand birdsong and found it comforting. The birds seemed to be messengers of lightness, joy, all-is-well.
As our planet took a gigantic and much needed breather and the human sounds quieted down, the birdsong became more noticeable…and captivating. It’s been my companion ever since. In this year of physical distancing, birdsong has kept me connected with the living, breathing world and ushered me back to presence.
Nature Trails
This year, I’ve stayed close to home since the shutdown. I haven’t made any overnight trips, and the only day trips I made were to the New England Peace Pagoda a couple hours away in Massachusetts and to the Adirondacks for a Women of Light photo shoot on a perfect, autumn day. Aside from that, I’ve been exploring and appreciating what’s close to home. It’s been a beautiful experiment of “staying”.
There have been four parks/trails in particular that I’ve gravitated to this year. The first is Hudson Crossing Park, which is the closest. In the spring, I visited Hudson Crossing every morning and walked the labyrinth. “Labyrinth time” was what I looked forward to most of all every day. It was my only outing, my meditation time, and an opportunity to connect with both nature and my deeper self.
For a while, my husband and I hiked the Thunder Mountain trail in Greenwich regularly. I appreciated being in the woods and the view of the surrounding hills and mountains in the distance. We also ran into fewer people on this trail.
Then the Saratoga Spa State Park started calling to me. With far fewer tourists in town since both the Saratoga Performing Arts Center and the racetrack were closed to the public, it was more delightful than ever to explore the Spa State Park. I discovered and photographed lesser known mineral springs, meditated next to the Geyser Island Spouter, and walked the trails. In the fall, the Ellen Reid Sound Walk was a special treat that put me in an especially creative state.
The fall foliage was so stunning this year that I wasn’t content to just drive through it. I wanted to be immersed in it, up close and personal. That’s when the trails at Christ the King Center in Greenwich came on our radar. And they did not disappoint! It was rare to run into anyone at all, and I fell in love with a section of birch trees on the trail, the views, the peace and quiet, and the diversity of leaves blanketing the ground. (I collected some to make leaf lanterns.) Jack made a video about hiking at Christ the King you that can watch HERE.
The icing on the cake was the time I spent with my granddaughter and daughter (and her boyfriend) at the two parks. My granddaughter and I miss our weekly sleepovers so much, but she had lots of fun exploring the trails, pretending, caring for pinecones (baby trees), searching for and constructing fairy houses, and just being outdoors together creating beautiful memories.
I’m also immensely grateful for everyone who maintains these parks and trails that have offered refuge to so many this year.
The Hudson River
I feel so blessed to live on the river. The navigation season was much shorter than usual this year due to the locks being closed, which meant I could kayak without having to be so vigilant about boat traffic. Once things started to reopen in the summer and there was more traffic and human noise, it was incredibly satisfying to paddle up the river to where the human sounds (that seemed so loud) subsided so I could hear the symphony of nature undisturbed: songbirds, wind dancing with the leaves in the trees, woodpeckers pecking, bald eagles calling.
Sometimes I’d bring my singing drum or Koshi chimes and play with the sounds of nature and even dance. I felt much more free to dance and be embodied in spots on the riverside due to the lack of boat traffic. And there were more spots to choose from because the water level was low all year, creating several tiny “beaches”.
It’s also wonderful to wake up to the river every morning and to have it as my view all day long. To watch it flow and to be inspired by its movement and the reflective quality of its stillness. And to walk along the river at both Hudson Crossing Park and on the quiet roads across the river. The river nourishes my life on so many levels, and “staying” has been a great joy.
A Sense of Community
I have longed for more community in my life – especially a spiritually supportive community. A couple years ago, I had an astrological reading that ended up being absolutely uncanny in its accuracy. The astrologer highlighted the significance of me working with groups of women, in spiritual and healing ways. At the time, I couldn’t imagine what this could mean. It sounded great, but no possibilities came to mind.
Now I’m chuckling as I remember how perplexed I was by this…because it’s become my reality.
This year, I went full steam ahead into the role of meditation teacher that’s called to me my whole life. And who showed up? Mostly women. Exclusively women for at least the first few months. Many of the participants in my meditation courses have been with me since the spring, and a sense of community has been growing. Someday when Covid has run its course, I look forward to being with them in person. But in the meantime, we are creating community and awakening together via Zoom. For that, I am grateful.
There’s also another community of women that showed up in my life this year, that feels like the answer to a longtime prayer. This is a network of mostly younger, local women who are brilliant, deeply spiritual, and multifaceted creatives. I am in awe of their energy, talents, wisdom, and light. Remember the Three Dog Night song, “Shambhala”? I can tell my sister(s) by the flowers in (their) eyes / On the road to Shambala. It’s like that.
Knowing women like this earlier in life would have altered the entire trajectory of my life. These women are deeply in touch with spirit and express it in unique and beautiful ways. They are inspiring me to be more fully embodied and to bring my wisdom and light into fuller expression.
I even cleared furniture out of the sunroom overlooking the river to create space for yoga and dancing, and that’s what I do most evenings, sometimes with these women as my guides and inspiration (remotely, for now). This kind of sisterhood is the piece that has been missing all my life. I’m so grateful for the ways they inspire me. They even provided the initial inspiration for my Women of Light photography sessions. (How many times have I used the word “inspire” to describe them?)
Working From Home
The astrologer also said that I would be transitioning to working more from home. Working with groups of women and working from home? Sounded amazing, but I couldn’t imagine this happening. Had no vision for it whatsoever. At the time, I was working two part-time jobs at two different libraries and trying to make time for my own work as best I could.
In March as we headed into the shutdown, I couldn’t fathom doing either of my library jobs from home. They weren’t those kinds of jobs: I taught preschool and helped library patrons with computer and technology issues. I was in the midst of teaching a mindfulness meditation course through the smaller library as part of my practicum requirements for teacher certification and, already fluent in Zoom through my teacher training program, switched the course from in-person to Zoom literally overnight, without missing a beat.
Realizing people were really stressed out by the pandemic cancellations, I asked the HR person at the larger library if she’d like me to teach a mindfulness meditation class for staff through Zoom…and received a resounding YES! Can you start yesterday? That course went well, and then I was asked to offer a course for patrons.
That’s how it all began. I’ve been teaching Zoom classes ever since, non-stop with the exception of a month-long break at the end of summer. I became so busy doing this and developing more content that I ended up resigning from both of my library jobs so I could put my energy into delivering programs instead.
It feels like I am living my purpose, and I love working from home. Thank you, Zoom.
Poetry
Inspired by my teacher, Tara Brach, I incorporate poetry into my guided meditations and meditation classes. Through Tara, I’ve discovered three poets whose work really resonates: John O’Donohue, Danna Faulds, and Mark Nepo. Their poems have been breaths of fresh air throughout the chaos of 2020. Mary Oliver is always right there in the mix, too, but I’ve appreciated her work for quite some time, along with the spiritual poetry of Hafiz and Rumi and my earliest favorite poet, Kahlil Gibran.
Bringing a book of poetry and a hot water bottle to bed with me is a pleasure I look forward to just like I appreciated my morning labyrinth time in the spring.
Natural Allies
There’s a line from a poem I once read (most likely a Zen death poem) that has stuck with me: Don’t lean on the shifting world.
This year, the world has shifted so much that sometimes it’s felt like there’s nothing solid to stand on. And in moments when that felt overwhelming, I’d go outside. One spring evening, I sat outdoors beneath the clear, starry sky listening to the sound of spring peepers in the distance, across the river. I relished that the stars were still in the sky, and the peepers were still peeping, as they did every year at that time. They helped me to get grounded and find stability in a time of groundlessness and instability.
And then there were the daffodils blooming around the labyrinth as they did every spring. And then the fiddlehead families. The whole flower parade. And the backyard fireflies that put on a magical light show on summer nights. My beloved “water lily friends” in front of our house on the river. The brilliant display of fall foliage. All on schedule, as if nothing had changed.
Sacred Sound
As we head toward winter, there is not as much birdsong as there was earlier in the year. Anticipating this during the warmer months, I wondered how I’d adjust to winter’s quiet after resonating so deeply with the songbirds.
That’s where the beautiful instruments come in. The instruments that line my dance space: handpan, singing drums, and Koshi chimes. Sometimes I’ll dance with my Koshi chimes, wearing them like a ring and moving however my body wants to move. Or I’ll play the instruments intuitively, improvisationally, as a musical meditation. I also play keyboard from time to time, but it is in a different location because I have a different relationship with it than I do with these other instruments.
The sounds of these beautiful instruments are so soothing. I tend to turn to uplifting, major scales during the day and minor tunings in the evening, to wind down. And sometimes I’ll lie in the middle of my dance space and listen to a sound bath recorded by someone else. Sacred sounds enrich my life and physical body and fill the quiet spaces where birdsong has subsided.
Well-Stocked Grocery Stores
For a while during the shutdown in the spring, we had our groceries delivered. There was also one small, local business that came through with organic produce in a pinch. I’d place an order online and pick it up curbside ten minutes later, knowing that everything advertised was in stock. Once I bit the bullet and paid $8 for a head of cauliflower that was advertised as ridiculously large. But it was the puniest head of cauliflower I’d ever bought, and I couldn’t return it or get a price adjustment. And sometimes Instacart deliveries would include containers of salad greens that were already decomposing or other produce I wouldn’t have selected myself.
When I returned to the grocery store for the first time, there literally were tears in my eyes upon seeing a fully stocked produce department and being able to pick out fruits and vegetables on my own.
It’s a privilege I won’t take for granted again.
Unconditional Love
This might be the most difficult gratitude to put into words. So I’ll try to express what I’ve found living in my heart by describing a vision I had during meditation. It began with hearing my mother’s loving voice, which has been growing in my heart ever since she died 6 1/2 years ago. Then I realized that she was part of a greater entity of unconditional love. This entity appeared as a female form and contained everyone who’s loved me, teachers who have taught me to be more loving and wise, and even the higher selves of those with whom I’ve experienced disharmony. All their voices emanated from this entity of Love.
Then this entity went into my heart, like a genie going back into its bottle. I experienced it as an iridescent, heart-shaped crystal in my heart area. There was a white water lily at the top of my head, and a stream of light flowed from it down through my body. The heart crystal was in this stream of light, and when I listened to the sound of the tumbling stream, I realized it was the whispering of all those loving voices. The river of light was keeping the heart crystal clean and clear and accessible and was filling me with love.
From then on, I knew that all I needed to do was put a hand on my heart or call upon Love. Then that entity living in my heart would emerge from the crystal container and stand before me, and I’d feel all the love and hear what Love had to say to me. I could hear my mother’s voice, my father’s voice, my grandmother’s voice, the voice of the higher self of someone who had hurt me. During one meditation, the entity held my hands and then embraced me, and I felt completely surrounded by and filled with this pure energy of love and light. It felt like the embrace we all long for and was almost unbearably satisfying.
I know that whenever I need it, it’s all right there in my heart, accessible and more real than anything. And in this sense, we are not separate from our loved ones. The veils of death, mental illness, addiction, physical distance, etc. can be dissolved in a heartbeat so that there is no separation. For this, I am immensely grateful and resourced.
Hope
There was a particular moment recently when a wave of relief washed through my whole body, and the seeds of hope sent new roots into the earth. I was hopeful earlier in the year that the shutdown would help to awaken the world to simplicity and caring. And then things erupted into flames. But I still sense that we are part of a great awakening in human history. It won’t happen overnight. It’ll be messy and intense at times. But it’s happening, and we are part of it. We just need to be patient and to keep showing up for what we care about most.
Amen.
© 2020 Susan Meyer. All rights reserved. You are welcome to share this post or excerpts of it as long as you give proper credit to Susan Meyer and SusanTaraMeyer.com. Susan Meyer is a photographer, writer, and spiritual teacher who lives on the Hudson River in Upstate New York.
by susantara | Oct 17, 2019 | Engaging the Magic, Spiritual Journey |
Yesterday was a gorgeous, warm, fall day: the kind that we’re keenly aware are numbered at this time of year.
That’s what I love about October: Its vibrance seizes the senses and teaches us to be here now and really experience and savor it rather than just autopilot through it. And if we’re really aware, we realize that presence kindles inner peace and satisfaction and that it isn’t limited to beautiful, fall days when the foliage is at peak. Or beautiful days in general.
On my drive home from work, only a few minutes from home, the light of the sunset sky bathed the already colorful, autumn leaves in beautiful, golden light that illuminated the trees magnificently. There was one piece of land in particular that commanded my attention. It was a spectacular landscape with a house and a red barn surrounded by the blazing trees.
I pulled over at a spot that required a brief walk for the best view. Although my intention was to photograph the farmhouse, the angle of sunlight was changing quickly, and I realized I might not make it in time.
Then I noticed where I was, right next to a cornfield. When I got out of my car, I was drawn to the sunset colors over the cornfield and decided to skip the farmhouse landscape and photograph the cornfield, instead.
After composing some shots and savoring the moment, I continued on, filled with the radiance of the sunset and the satisfaction of witnessing its golden-pink glow. Listening to magical handpan music as I drove, it hit me: Happiness. I am happy. Satisfied. Peaceful. Content.
It occurred to me that for the first time in my life, I’m not chasing anything. Not a relationship, a career, spiritual growth, anyone’s attention, financial prosperity, a slimmer body, home ownership, or anything else. It’s not that I received everything I wanted or threw in the towel. Rather, I learned somewhere along the way that I didn’t need what I thought I needed and had been pursuing in order to be happy.
In other words, I realized I’m already good enough. My self-esteem doesn’t hinge on any conditions or outcomes. I can just be without needing to impress anyone else to feel good about myself. I don’t need others to act differently for me to be happy. I can carry contentment and boundless compassion within me like an inner sun and not be so needy in relation to the rest of the world. I can experience inner peace even when the outer world feels like it’s spinning out of control – without disconnecting from it.
It’s the best feeling ever, and I’m writing about it not to brag but to communicate that it’s possible. Happiness is possible. By that, I mean deep joy and satisfaction, not the fleeting, conditioned, circumstantial variety.
When I pulled into the driveway, I sat in my car for a while watching the sunset sky with tears of joy and gratitude dripping down my face. I realized that every single step was part of the journey that got me here. The photography that helps me to find beauty and experience gratitude every day and uplifted me during some very difficult times. The trauma of losing close loved ones and supporting others through mental health crises. Feeling invisible on social media. Challenging relationships. The list could go on and on. Yet, every step mattered and carried blessings. Every step brought me to this moment of feeling so full and whole and complete.
I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but I was born privileged, nonetheless. I’ve experienced so much that I never imagined “someone like me” would experience in life. Tough and humbling stuff but also tremendous beauty. Because of it all, my heart is so full of compassion, gratitude, and joy. It wasn’t always that way. I’ve worked hard to rewire my neural programming.
For the past few years, I’ve felt an unconditionally loving presence growing stronger in me. I don’t know where that presence comes from – whether it’s Divinity, loved ones who have crossed over, my teachers, or my own Self. (Is there a difference?) However, I no longer berate myself with judgments and expectations of accomplishing more than I already have in this life.
Experiencing this kind of inner peace doesn’t mean life will be smooth sailing from now on. There will be challenges and suffering. Life will still send inevitable curveballs. But there are peak moments when the light shines through so brightly and seems to swell up from the truest depths and fill us with luminosity and grace. We might realize we have grown through all the trauma and heartache and unconditional love and resources we’re blessed with and say thank you. For all of it. Even when the story is still unfolding, and we don’t know how it will all turn out.
Thank you. I trust that this, too, serves awakening.
Even after these peak moments have faded like sublime sunset colors, memories of them can cut through the gravity of our earthly dramas and remind us that we are so much more than the myopic desires and aversions of our ego consciousness. We can perceive challenges and curveballs as opportunities to develop inner resources we didn’t even know we were capable of. We can still have aspirations, but they are unclenched. More spacious. For example, I aspire to be a healing, loving, uplifting presence in this world. At the same time, I don’t need to accomplish anything in particular or help or change anyone else to feel I have worth. I have worth because I exist.
Being less dependent on this shifting world and all its personalities, I wonder (with curiosity rather than a sense of obligation): What’s possible now that wasn’t before? What is possible when we set ourselves free from the prison of our own making?
© 2019 Susan Meyer. All rights reserved. To use any or all of this article, include this exactly: Susan Meyer (SusanTaraMeyer.com) is a photographer, writer, clutter coach, Reiki practitioner, and mindfulness meditation teacher whose work is infused with a deep interest in the nature of mind and appreciation of the natural world. She lives on the Hudson River in Upstate New York.
by susantara | Apr 18, 2018 | Decluttering & Simplicity, Spiritual Journey |
“It’s another lovely winter day.”
“Don’t spend too much time in the hot sun!”
These are typical greetings I hear every day as we wait for Spring to arrive in all its glory and for Winter to release its stronghold. Spring certainly is taking its time this year.
Yesterday morning, I was mindful of what I needed most of all before heading to work: a nice, vigorous power-walk. I had hoped to get my walk in before the rain came, but it started raining a few minutes after I started walking. However, I had an umbrella with me and a warm enough coat, so I kept walking.
There’s a choice in moments like that to feel grumpy about having to walk in the cold rain. You might even choose to stop walking and go home. Get out of the cool, damp weather. Or you could feel empowered and unbothered by the weather and have a lovely walk despite the rain…as I did. Not that anyone who feels grumpy about the persistent “wintry weather” and ice-covered windshields would want to hear my Susie Sunshine story. But I felt good about giving myself the gift of what I needed most that morning and knew I’d feel better at work because of it and because I didn’t allow myself to make excuses and not exercise.
I also thought about how nice a hot shower would feel when I’m done walking.
And felt grateful that I could take a shower.
I thought about the homeless population I see every day at the library. If anyone has a right to complain about how long it’s taking for Spring to arrive this year, it’s them. Surely, they’d appreciate being able to come inside from the cold weather and take a hot shower at will.
I felt truly grateful for having hot, running water and a bathroom with a shower.
The night before, I watched the documentary, Minimalism, which is about decluttering our lives and living with less stuff because “less is more”. I recently completed the requirements for Clutter Clearing Coaching certification and also became a Certified Feng Shui Consultant, so the documentary was right up my alley and very inspiring. An interview with a couple who lives in a “tiny home” helped me to reframe my small (by today’s standards), one-bathroom home built nearly 200 years ago (when people didn’t have nearly as much stuff) as an exciting decluttering challenge. I thought I did a good job last year of getting rid of stuff, but after watching the movie and looking around my home, I realize I can do more.
The documentary reminded me that I have so much more than enough, even though every home I go into for clutter coaching and feng shui seems so much nicer and more spacious than mine.
Of course, it’s not about the amount of space or stuff you have but whether your space and your stuff reflects your values. Having all your possessions fit into a couple of carry-on bags might represent freedom, resourcefulness, and empowerment to one person and disempowerment and unworthiness to another. Someone who values caring for the environment might not be drawn to a large home that takes up a lot of space and requires more energy to heat, cool, and maintain it, whereas someone who values entertaining and hosting holiday celebrations would be unlikely to live in a small home with tiny rooms like mine.
I started thinking about gratitude and my relationship with abundance. I wondered: When is gratitude for what you have an “abundance block” vs. a virtue?
The late Dr. Wayne Dyer wrote:
“Refuse to allow yourself to have low expectations about what you’re capable of creating. As Michelangelo suggested, the greater danger is not that your hopes are too high and you fail to reach them; it’s that they’re too low and you do.”
During my walk, I felt like I was balancing on a tightrope between gratitude (for what I have) and poverty mindset (being content with what I have because others have so much less). It’s that line I wanted to be more mindful of and understand better. Can I or should I be content with living in a small, one-bathroom home with hot, running water and no usable storage space? It seems foolish to underestimate the value of hot, running water when so many people in the world and even in my affluent hometown don’t have such ready access to it. Does feeling such gratitude for simple pleasures like that prevent me from having higher expectations about what I can create in my life – for instance, a home with more spacious rooms and usable space?
I guess I didn’t want to get stuck or limited by gratitude. But how silly is that? As I continued to walk, I felt an answer coming to me: To feel gratitude for the little things while also feeling a sense of true abundance and worth.
It doesn’t matter how much stuff you have relative to anyone else. Comparing yourself to others is not the answer. Feeling abundant and prosperous is what matters. Feeling that you are enough and have enough, whatever your situation is. I think that is a useful mindset for discovering what you’re really capable of.
In other words, gratitude and appreciation are not abundance blocks. What matters is how abundant you feel. When you feel appreciative, but a feeling of “not enough-ness”, unworthiness, or lack creeps in, that is the culprit that needs attention.
So the feeling I’m going for is appreciation for what I have without clinging to it or craving more. A sense of being and having enough and not comparing myself to others – feeling bad about having more than some or not nearly as much as others.
Gratitude is such a powerful mindset. When you are filled with gratitude for what you already have, it produces joy and the abundance mindset and energy boost for continuing to follow your bliss. It leads to more of the same and natural expansion (which may or may not have anything to do with material possessions).
On the other hand, feeling bad about the home you live in, the weather, etc. produces a sense of lack that drains your energy and makes it harder to follow your bliss because bliss becomes out of reach. Dr. Dyer suggested “being peaceful, radiating love, practicing forgiveness, being generous, respecting all life, and most important, visualizing yourself as capable of doing anything you can conceive of in your mind and heart.” Playing the victim of weather or circumstance is disempowering. Being grateful for what you have without any feelings of lack puts the wind back in your sails and empowers you to play with greater possibilities.
It’s like having gratitude for the weather, even when it still feels much more like Winter than Spring in mid-April. Taking a walk anyway and being outdoors noticing the birdsong and legions of daffodils that will bloom in time. Not today, but don’t let that diminish your feeling of enough-ness in this moment. Finding beauty in a cluster of crocuses that are still closed, but the raindrops look so beautiful on them, and the image is simply perfect just as it is right now, and you wouldn’t dare or even think to ruin the poetry of the moment with thoughts of how cold it is.
Feeling appreciative and joyful about that rather than grumpy because Spring hasn’t arrived yet in all its glory. Having a spring in your step and going about your business with joy in your heart, rather than waiting for the arrival of Spring or “more than this” to feel good.
© 2018 Susan Meyer. All rights reserved. To use any or all of this article, include this exactly: Susan Meyer (SusanTaraMeyer.com) is a photographer, writer, clutter coach, feng shui consultant, and mindfulness teacher whose work is infused with a deep interest in the nature of mind and appreciation of the natural world. She lives on the Hudson River in Upstate New York.
by susantara | Mar 22, 2018 | Mindfulness, Self-Care Practices |
I’ve been playing a little game with myself every morning. It’s a thought game, and the object is to select a thought to begin the day as you would select an outfit from your closet. A thought that is empowering, hopeful, positive – perhaps one of appreciation or gratitude. A thought that makes you feel good and starts the day with positive momentum.
If the thought you wake up thinking about isn’t like that – if it is disempowering, anxiety-provoking, or doesn’t make you feel good – you can play the game, too. Notice how the thought feels, and put the disempowering thought away, as you would put clothes back into your closet when they don’t feel quite right. Then select a different one.
Is the sun shining this morning? Do you hear birds singing? Does it feel like spring is in the air? Is your bed nice and comfortable? You could start right there.
You could even have a positive affirmation or inspirational quote near your bed that you see when you wake up in case you need a go-to good thought, like a favorite, comfortable outfit you can rely on to feel good in. I have a few affirmations surrounding my bed. There are two on the door, and on each side of the bed there is a candle with a positive affirmation wrapped around it. The messages placed around my bed are very intentional.
What kind of thought doesn’t work in this game? Any thought that is somehow constricting or binding or restricts your breathing, preventing you from getting a nice, deep, full breath. Any thought that doesn’t feel right, doesn’t make you feel like who you want to be, or makes you feel self-conscious. Any thought that doesn’t support your sense of who you are at your best and who you are becoming. Thoughts that are unflattering and don’t make you feel beautiful and worthy. Thoughts that might work for others but don’t feel right for you perhaps because they are not compatible with your energy or vibration (kind of like how different colors work better for different people).
Choosing your thoughts in the morning really is so much like deciding what you want to wear. You could even set a thought out the night before so you don’t have to think about it in the morning. It’s just there. You can plant a thought in your mind before you fall asleep – something you feel grateful for, perhaps. That’s why writing in my gratitude journal is the last thing I do before getting into bed at night. You could even leave a note to yourself next to your bed to remind you of a positive, empowering thought to think when you wake up.
Consider how you might arrange your bedroom so it’s a pleasurable experience to wake up in it. This includes the artwork on the walls, the color of the walls, having a totally clutter-free bedroom, nice pillows, and a comfortable mattress. The first thing you see when you wake up can set the tone for the day, so consider: If it were a metaphor, what might it represent? If it’s something with a negative association, can you move the object or change the way you see it so it has a more positive meaning?
If you keep your phone near your bed, perhaps because you use it as an alarm, you could put it in airplane mode so you’re not inundated by emails or social media notifications when you first wake up. Give yourself some time to check in with yourself first and generate friendly thoughts so your first thoughts of the day are on your terms!
I love my bed so much that my go-to thought is how grateful I am to have such a comfortable bed. If I find myself thinking a negative or otherwise disempowering thought when I wake up, I can start thinking about how comfortable I am in my bed and how appreciative I am to have it. It’s like taking an outfit out of the closet and realizing it’s not the one you really want, then putting it back and taking out one that feels like yessss!
Playing this game can become a morning habit. When you tune in to the gratitude or feel-good channel, it sets in motion a flow of gratitude and good feelings. And when you can get a wave of positive thoughts and feelings going in the morning, it’s a wonderful way to start the day that can give you some immunity against negativity. See how long you can ride that wave!
© 2018 Susan Meyer. All rights reserved. To use any or all of this article, include this exactly: Susan Meyer (SusanTaraMeyer.com) is a photographer, writer, clutter coach, feng shui consultant, and mindfulness teacher whose work is infused with a deep interest in the nature of mind and appreciation of the natural world. She lives on the Hudson River in Upstate New York.
by susantara | Jan 11, 2018 | Spiritual Journey |
Maybe it’s a little strange, but I can’t resist heading outdoors with my camera on frigid, winter mornings to photograph a frosty landscape. It’s so thrilling that I almost don’t even feel the cold!
I captured the above image at the beginning of a recent period of brutally cold weather. The weather forecast for upcoming days looked much the same as the conditions that morning, but I was surprised to wake up the next few mornings to no frost whatsoever. Apparently, it was too cold! In fact, it got so cold in the past week that I didn’t take my camera outside at all. Morning temperatures were around -20° F, without windchill!
However, one morning at the end of the deep freeze, Jack showed me an incredibly beautiful video of soap bubbles freezing. (He should have known better.) The frost forming on the bubbles was enchanting, and I remembered that ever since my children were little, I’d wanted to try blowing bubbles when it was well below 0° outdoors. Finally (now that my youngest is 20), the conditions were right.
So I mixed up a DIY soap bubble solution and headed outdoors with my reluctant assistant who no doubt regretted showing me the video. He blew the bubbles, and I attempted to photograph them. It wasn’t easy! Even though they didn’t pop when they hit the ground, they were like weightless, speedy tumbleweeds! There was a slight breeze, and whenever I tried to scoot a little closer to them to get a better shot, they rolled around too fast for me to catch up with them.
It was brutally cold that morning, close to -30°. Too cold for people and cameras to be outdoors for more than a few minutes, so I didn’t have much time to work with. In the narrow window of opportunity, I managed to get a few shots – but definitely felt the cold!
When Mother Nature doesn’t deliver, sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands and make the best of it. Whatever gets you through the winter!
This morning, for the first time in a while, I noticed some frosted trees in a certain area along the river. I had a plan: I’d snowshoe to the dam, which was next to the frosted trees, for a good view. I hadn’t photographed frosted trees from that spot yet.
So I started on the path but was delayed because I noticed glistening, frosty branches low to the ground along the river and couldn’t resist stopping for a closer look. I spent the next half hour or so photographing the delicate, feathered frost on low branches and noticed that, viewed through my macro lens, the frost resembled ferns and trees.
By the time I made it to the dam, there was no more frost left on the trees. However, I sat on a rock and appreciated the warmth of the sun on my face. After a string of such brutally cold days when the air hurt my face, it was a pleasure not to take for granted.
As I sat on the rock, I realized my morning walk was a metaphor for how I want to journey through life. You can have a destination in mind, but be sure to enjoy the journey! After all, we spend more hours working toward goals than we do attaining them, right? And when we achieve a goal, there’s always a new one to work toward. So we’re constantly working toward something.
But what do we miss along the way when we’re focused on a particular outcome? I thought of all the times I was on the river stalking herons or bald eagles, determined to paddle back home with a decent photograph but missing so many other opportunities along the way – like turtles, dragonflies, or the reflection of sunlight on the surface of the water projected onto the trees so it appears like cells of light flowing down the branches to the center of the tree.
The other day, I got triggered by a situation and felt my life was falling short, in a big way. That kind of thinking is my kryptonite, and I spent the next day trying not to cross over to the dark side of poverty consciousness and general unworthiness.
Focusing on gratitude helped a lot. While showshoeing late in the afternoon, I felt grateful because there was enough snow for snowshoeing and because it stayed light late enough for me to go snowshoeing when I finally got home. Also, it was so wonderful to be outdoors breathing fresh air that didn’t hurt my face!
These gratitudes led to more, and before I knew it, my snowshoe walk had turned into a gratitude walk, which raised my energy and improved my mood. I realized how much I have compared to so many other people in the world. I have food on the table, a roof over my head, a warm coat, snowshoes on my feet, and everything I need. Furthermore, to borrow a line from Hafiz, “Any king would trade his throne for the splendor my eye can see.”
When we work toward a particular goal, the danger is that we will feel we’re not enough as we are right now and need to achieve the goal in order to measure up. But don’t you dare believe such toxic thoughts! When I tried not to cross over to the dark side where feelings of lack would convince me I was in need of something that would make me feel more whole and complete, these words came to me:
As I snowshoed and drove around, I repeated the words over and over because it was really important to reprogram my thoughts and let the message sink in. Create new neural pathways.
Our journey through life is so much more enjoyable when we appreciate what we already have and believe we are already whole and complete and don’t need to achieve a particular goal to have value and worth and to feel good. If we can have a lighter attitude of curiosity and joy and not be so heavy and serious, we can experiment with growing and expanding toward our goals without making our worth dependent on a successful outcome. We can notice more, follow our intuition, and feel good as we travel along, not only when we finally arrive. We can even give ourselves freedom to fail, which I believe is good practice.
This morning, falling in love with the frosted branches along the way made the whole journey worth it. The destination wasn’t dazzling, and therefore I didn’t get pictures of frosted trees. However, the journey – of curiosity and delight – made up for it. So this is a little reminder not to be so focused on the end result (whatever it is for you) that you deprive yourself of tiny pleasures, positive thoughts, and intuitive nudges that make the journey more delicious.
Enjoy the journey, knowing you are already enough exactly as you are right now!
© 2018 Susan Meyer. All rights reserved. To use any or all of this article, include this exactly: Susan Meyer (SusanTaraMeyer.com) is a photographer, writer, clutter coach, feng shui consultant, and mindfulness teacher whose work is infused with a deep interest in the nature of mind and appreciation of the natural world. She lives on the Hudson River in Upstate New York.
