Over the weekend, I had the delightful opportunity to participate in a virtual retreat through the Center for Spirituality in Nature where we explored the possibilities for connecting with the sacred in our own backyards. For me, a central element of connection is movement. I was delighted with the prompts to inhabit our landscapes through the lens of the senses, but I also found myself compelled to ask: How does this landscape invite me to move?
Many of us are continuing to move through a landscape of uncertainty. The natural mutability of spring is magnified by the global uncertainty we face. Impermanence is a fundamental part of life, yet we often resist it--especially when it involves loss, separation, ending, or death. Once again, the teachings of Thich Nhát Hanh comfort me:
When I lived in Vietnam during the war, it was difficult to see our way through that dark and heavy mud. It seemed like the destruction would just go on and on forever. Every day people would ask me if I thought the war would end soon. It was very difficult to answer because there was no end in sight. But I knew if I said, "I don't know," that would only water their seeds of despair. So when people asked me that question, I replied, "Everything is impermanent, even war. It will end someday." Knowing that we could continue to work for peace. And indeed the war did end. Now the former mortal enemies are busily trading and touring back and forth, and people throughout the world enjoy practicing our tradition's teachings on mindfulness and peace.†
It's very natural to freeze up in the face of so much uncertainty and fear. Fortunately, there are many ways to move from freeze to ease. Sometimes it requires a slowing down, a pause to discover your roots reaching deep into the earth. At other times, a brisk walk or run with the breeze pressing against your skin offers the resistance you need to press forward. Sometimes all it takes is your favorite song turned up to full volume and a willingness to embrace your inner disco diva.
How does the mutability of this season invite you to move? Are there new movements you'd like to make? How can you create opportunities for new movements to arise?
As always, if you'd like a companion on your movement journey, I'd love to dance with you!
† Nhát Hahn, Thich. 2014. No Mud, No Lotus: The Art of Transforming Suffering. Berkeley, CA: Parallax Press, 13.