Moving On

It has been a while since I’ve posted here.  Every so often I think of coming ’round to add a new post, but I never seem to get it done.  I think it is time to archive this particular blog.  South of Sabai has gone south, and I am moving in another direction.  Life has changed form, shifted shapes,  scattered new seeds of awakening, awareness, awfulness.

Awful, as in awe-full, as in “to inspire reverence” – the real meaning of the word before it came to mean something terrible.  Well, and for that matter, the word terrible once upon a time not only meant something to be feared, but also to be revered.

Odd, isn’t it, that fear and reverence were so closely intertwined?  But that’s the way with life, I think.  Pain and beauty, life and death – the pairs feed each other, need each other.  We never really grow and expand, or even become fully human until we’ve gone into the depths of awfulness. Pain and ugliness awaken beauty and compassion.  Isn’t it always the most intense experiences that cause us to say…. “I have changed” and give us a deeper understanding of who we are?

I have learned this: Life is sacred, holy, and beautiful in all of its forms.  Even in death.  Maybe especially in death.  When we acknowledge death we can really learn to live.

Hey you, yes you.  You reading this blog post…. do you know that you will die? No, I mean really, do you KNOW it?  It’s a hard thing for us humans to grasp.  And mostly, we don’t grasp it.  Even when it happens to those closest to us we have a hard time believing that this ego called me will ever end.

Partly, I think that’s because on some level we don’t really die.  What I mean is: the part of us that exists beneath our identity, that bit of energy that animates us, that bit we can’t quite define… that part lives on.  We know this at an intuitive level, even if we can’t quite say so.  Energy simply changes form.  But this ego, this identity called Amy, this body that claims to be Amy…. all the bits and pieces that make up the story of Amy…  this will die.

Here’s what I need to do before I die:   Live.  Yep, that simple.  I’m not talking about the kind of life that is a living death.  I am talking about awakening to the beauty that is all around.  I’m talking about following my passions and trusting that the unfolding paths will take me exactly where I need to be.

So.  I am archiving this blog and moving on. There will be no more posts here.  Not to worry, however, if you are so inclined to follow me around the web I do have a couple of new projects starting.  Because I am a blog addict 😉  I am starting up a new personal blog –  you are welcome to follow me there. I will continue to post on A Yoga Year (yes I know, I am way behind on my posts there too, but I will come back to it!)  I am also in the process of setting up my business web pages, and who knows what else will show up for me to work on.  So I will be around ~ in and out of cyberspace.  Feel free to continue to connect – I do love hearing from you.

Meanwhile, I leave this particular blog with a challenge (or is it an invitation?) issued to you as well as to me:  Let yourself know that your body will die.  Live with that knowing, and see if you can live with it joyfully.  Because I think (and I could be wrong) that if you live with it, and come to really know that your identity will die,  you might just discover that you have a deep gratitude for your life.

Gratitude is a huge gift.

Maybe you will also come to know that you actually love the life you live.  Now, there’s a gift!  And if you don’t love it, you will know that you can change it, and change it again and again and again until you find your passion, until you really fall in love with your life.

It’s a simple thing.  Remember what lights your fire and do that, be that.  If complaining that you will never do what you want to do is the thing that you love best… well then keep on complaining.  That’s ok too.  But if you want more, go for it. Is there something that calls you and you don’t heed that call because there are other things you “should” do….?

Here’s a suggestion: let go of the “should” and follow your muse.  Get wild, live outside the box.  Appreciate who you are, be grateful for what you have, and go on… be uniquely You.

Really, what else can we do?

 

“Go… be the flower, be the star…. go, and be the love you are… ”   (lyrics by Spring from Be the Light)

~ Many Blessings ~

be glad

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Published in: on October 1, 2011 at 14:29  Comments (4)  
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In Memory of Tanza, Dance!

The morning is cold, windy, gray.  It is June, and I still wait for summer to arrive here.  Not that there hasn’t been sun – there have been some incredibly beautiful (albeit cold) days.  Just this past Saturday, however the day was warm AND sunny. What a gift! A proper send off, I think, for my sister Tanza.   She and I share the love of warm and sun, and often we laughingly wondered what the heck we were doing here in gray, rainy Washington.purple wildflower

Even with all the rain, we did enjoy the spring here.  Tanza delighted in seeing different flowers and birds than what she’d known in Florida, and for me – well, I’ve lived in the desert so long I’d forgotten how many colors of flowers there can be.  I am continually astonished at the beauty around me – flowering trees and tulips and rhododendrons and bleeding hearts and lilacs and flowers I have no names for – an abundance of color and fragrance!

flyingTanza left here on Thursday.  I wish she could have stayed to feel the warmth of the sun on Saturday, but it was not to be. Instead, she flew free, dancing I believe with the lightness that can only come from leaving your body behind.  She once told me that the thing she loved most about dancing (her training was in classical ballet) were the high leaps. The sense of flying, stretching out her arms to the sky, leaving the ground, being free.  Living Large.

For all of her love of flying, she also loved the earth.  She helped our niece design her garden, and taught her how to plant so as to attract birds and butterflies.  She loved the trees, guardians of the land, and knew the devas that inhabit the growing things.  From ocean to ocean, she loved the water.   Atlantic ocean,  Pacific ocean, the Baltic Sea and more – in all her travels she found the water to be her home, and it fed her spirit.

I can’t imagine anyone living with more grace and beauty and love than my sister Tanza.  She was a dancer, an artist, always willing to step out on a new adventure, someone who cared deeply.  Even in her pain, she saw beauty, thought of others, cared for life.   She understood more than many that life is sacred, that life is love, that life should be lived, fully.  She lived her life in such a way that all who came in contact with her felt something special, and she leaves behind a legacy of love among many, many people.

DanceThese are her words:  “We are creative beings, so in memory of me… do not send flowers, but contribute to your favorite charity, or call your mom, or plant a garden.  In memory of me, I request that you light a candle to the angels, dance to your favorite song, write a poem, in short, be creative!  Plant a garden,  turn a pot,  do something you’ve always wanted to do.”

Today, in memory of Tanza, in memory of all those who have gone before us, in honor of all those you love, in honor of your life – Dance.  Do something you have always wanted to do.  Don’t put it off.  Live your life with full attention.  Love the sacredness in this life!  It is a gift to be here – honor that, and celebrate your very molecular existence.  We are, each of us, a miracle of Love.

~om shanti~

Lori Ruth Smith

Tanza Lorraine, aka Lori Ruth Smith
October 18, 1955 – June 2, 2011