Browsing Tag

bones

emerge, writing, yes

Lost & Found: One Spiritual Practice

April 27, 2015

The soul can’t be explained or understood. Is it, after all, your divine Self, and divinity is wild, untamable – more vast and magnificent than our minds can grasp. Whatever idea or image you hold in your mind of the soul or the Divine is by definition too small. That’s why we feel so compelled to explore these fields of the soul. We long for the mystery. – Janet Conner

 

Meghan Genge writingThere were always all of these wonderful things I was going to do once I had time. I was going to walk more, and do more yoga, and meditate more, and eat better. I was going to do all of those things because somehow I thought that they would make me more spiritual. They would bring me closer to the Divine, to God, to that best part of me who was nice and made really good decisions and had a great attitude most of the time.

Insert giggle/snort here.

Turns out that when I packed for Costa Rica, I packed myself. I packed the me who gets grumpy, and wants to eat Nutella more than she wants carrots, and the me who has a lot of yoga to do before yoga makes her feel blissful (right now it makes me feel angry), and who is a little afraid of walking because walking is a bit scary. There are things lurking under the fallen leaves both in reality and in my imagination that want to nibble on me.

So until a few days ago I was getting really frustrated. I was wasting time. I hadn’t landed in Costa Rica and then morphed instantly into a glorious Blue Morpho. I was getting grumpier by the day, reading in great gulping novel-sized afternoons, and wishing that I could somehow be different.

And then it happened.

I got up on Friday morning, picked up my pen and a battered notebook, and I started to write. And within one sentence, I remembered: Writing is my spiritual practice. 

My simple connection had gotten lost in the sparkle on my Instagram feed, the gloss on my Pinterest pages, the bendy-holiness on Facebook, and my need to be different than I am. Yes, I will continue to meditate and do yoga – movement and stillness are as important to my growth as words – but for me, my doorway to that connection and my worship happens on the page.

When I arrive at the page, say a prayer, and pick up my pen, I slip easily into a conversation with my Soul, with The Mystery, with God, with whatever you think It is. And it is a conversation that is most definitely two-sided. We contemplate. We argue. We breathe. We bend. We talk. And I come out the other side different. Connected. Motivated. Altered. Writing doesn’t magically make me a shinier, nicer, better behaved version of myself, but instead I emerge a more grounded, honest, clear one. I’m the me that remembers that she is deeply, truly connected, so all of the rest of that ‘stuff’ can be seen with perspective and a lighter heart.

It’s magic. It’s a miracle.

How could I have forgotten? I was so busy comparing myself to other people’s spirituality, that I forgot about my own.

And so I will return to the page again and again, because writing is my practice.

It’s my holy.

It’s home.

xo

 

Stories

The Caged Woman – A Story

October 10, 2012

“Find a new way. A better way. Your way. The unknown, uncharted path through this wild new world that allows you – yourself in your uniqueness – to reclaim the full measure of your true nature.” – Martha Beck

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120 Audio Link

The Caged Woman by Meghan Genge (5:33)
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Image Credit: “The Adventurous Bird” by Fréya Eté click on image for link to her etsy site.
Quotes, Sacred Feminine, Stillness, Uncategorized, Wild Woman

Over the Bones

June 19, 2012

“I am a writer. I am a seeker. I can find magic anywhere. I want to tell you stories and tell your stories. I love to celebrate everything in every way. I can see to the heart and the possibilities in anything. I am still afraid of my own bigness. I want to consciously decide how to live each day.  I have a profound belief in the sacredness of all things. I want to shine a light.” – meghan genge

 

venice door 1 meg web

It’s all there.

I have done the research. I have the books (nearly all of the books!) I have the paint and the glue and the glitter. I have the mala and the camera. I have the computer and the pen. I have the crystals and the sage and the websites. I have the DVDs and the pdfs. I have the words – especially the ones I wrote at the top of this post – and the support.

The bones are ready.

In Women Who Run With the Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estes writes:

“La Loba sings over the bones she has gathered. To sing means to use the soul-voice. It means to say on the breath the truth of one’s power and one’s need, to breathe soul over the thing that is ailing or in need of restoration…That is singing over the bones.”

I read those lines for the first time when I was about 23. I didn’t get it then, and I am not totally certain I get it now.  What I do finally understand is that I have been collecting bones ever since.

How I understand the story of La Loba today is that now I need to consciously choose to stop collecting and start singing. I need to “…say on the breath the truth of [my] power and [my] need.”  My daily practice has been collecting and searching, collecting and searching for as long as I can remember. Now it is time to sit still and breathe soul.

Sit still and breathe soul.

Yes.

ox