Shifting to the Core

by Emma Laurence

If you’re like me, you’ve spent a lot of time with your thoughts.  At times, they’ve crowded the inner landscape to such a degree that you’ve exhausted yourself, become confused and frustrated, and had a hard time sleeping.  They can be of a negative nature or an excitable one; the impact on the nervous system seems similar.

The focus on thoughts in our world today—and plenty of words to describe them that get rehashed on media outlets—creates a loop pattern.  Certain ideas or beliefs run and re-run until a groove settles in that can then be difficult to undo.  Add to this that children take on the patterns in their home, society and culture of origin, and it’s pretty hard to tell which voice inside our heads is truly our own, if we bother to ask.

I have a steel-trap sort of mind that won’t let go.  It gets bored easily, wants to “figure out” everything, and insists it’s at the top of my identity’s food chain. 

I’m also blessed and challenged with a sensitive, empathic, easily hurt emotional heart that I’ve learned to protect and tend.

Yet beyond mind and heart lies a territory that we humans must explore if we’re to evolve.  At the core of any living being is a true spiritual intention that may or may not make sense to the mind and emotions. 

The core intention serves all life (within and without) from a higher perspective that embraces everything below. It’s the truth behind what we do. Like unconditional love, this core can resonate as respect, compassion, charity, or even bonds of brotherhood. It can express itself in any creative form.

I like the metaphor of the shinbashira—the central pillar of a pagoda’s construction that’s built to be movable, like the flexible spine of the human body. The shinbashira is part of what makes these beautiful, sacred structures earthquake resistant.

I also love the French word for heart, coeur, which is closer to the English word core.

The shift to living each day from a central pillar often follows a life-changing event wherein we’ve been “shaken to the core.” Paradigms reverse and perspectives expand. We become aware of a bigger picture in which we’re part of a living, breathing whole.

Priorities flip. Smaller annoyances shrink in importance as we recommit to the love in our lives (people, places, actions, arts) that make life worth living.

The transition is the tough part. We may find it difficult to calm the mind and heart enough to feel our shinbashira or hear our core truth.  Our faith or trust may appear intermittent as we work at realigning with a new way of being.

The current pandemic is more than an earthquake whose aftershocks we will feel for an indefinite length of time.  It’s the best opportunity we have for contacting our core. We’ve been given the chance to ground in our essential (coeur) intention, one that may hold a surprising, primal message awaiting our discovery.

Photo by Francesco Ungaro from Pexels

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The Unseen Positive

by Emma Laurence

At my first Minnesota Astronomical Society (MAS) online meeting, I found the request to join without video or sound suitably funny.  Wow, I thought, these guys really do crave darkness! 

Of course, it’s what they discover in the darkness that makes stargazing so engaging.  During the call, I learned where and when to look for the “Golden Handle” on the moon.  The Bay of Rainbows (Sinus Iridum) is a lava-flooded impact basin measuring 162 miles wide and ringed by the Jura Mountains.  When the mountains are illuminated just so, they appear as a bright arc in front of the still darkened bay.

This play of light effect is nicknamed the “Golden Handle,“ and it’s visible once a month, four days before a full moon. Look closely at the photo above and you’ll see a curved feature at the top right, jutting up along the line between light and dark. 

As astrophotographers in the group talked technology and equipment, my mind drifted back to a conversation with a friend over the weekend.  She’d remarked on the common usage of the term “unseen negative.” Then she asked, what about the “unseen positive“?

I began to wonder what hidden forces are at work even now to assist us in our personal missions on earth and to guide us to the best possible future.  We’re in a time of fear, change, and uncertainty.  Is it possible to see what’s right in front of us, working for our benefit?  Or, at the least, trust the unfoldment of an unseen positive?

So much is unseen.  When we face life’s challenges, we can feel like we’re in the dark.  It’s easy to be fearful of an imagined negative outcome.  Pretending to not feel fear is simply a spiritual bypass.  We may want to get around the vulnerability of human emotions, but they will be stored somewhere in the psyche, or the body, if denied.  

So, what about looking more deeply into this metaphorical night sky to gain perspective and awe?  Astronomers know how to do this in a literal sense.  They share the excitement of sightings and photos because their world is a wide-open view to points of light, or heavenly bodies, within the darkness.

If we open the aperture of our heart, though, I’ll bet we can discover the unseen positive. How often have we witnessed surprising support from Life itself simply because we were looking more closely, calmly or widely, with an eye for beauty and grace?

Calm presence embraces fear and beauty, both.  It’s a divine paradox. 

I hope to catch sight of the Bay of Rainbows and the Golden Handle at the end of this month.  The sky, moon, bay and mountains already exist as an unseen, awaiting my astronomy binoculars.  I may feel like I’ve come upon a miracle when I experience it personally. And I may be even further inspired by the vast darkness beyond.

Photo by Peter Lowenstein

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What Brings You Joy?

by Emma Laurence

My husband and I anticipated the joy kittens would bring to our home.  The vet was 90% sure our newly adopted cat was pregnant.  And though she couldn’t feel individual kittens, she predicted we’d have a brood in three weeks.

Then, a turn of events.  Our cat began behaving like she was in heat.  Hmmm, we thought.  What about the other 10%?

After a few days of this behavior, we called the vet to chat.  She agreed that she’d misread the swollen belly as pregnancy rather than hormonal build up to estrus.

Isn’t it a curious moment when, having planned for one outcome, Life takes a 180 degree turn?  I felt sad as I disassembled the dream of playfulness, cuteness and laughter filling our home. 

This wasn’t a severe disappointment, but the process seems to be the same for releasing human emotions.  Grief, felt at various depths, eventually gives way to acceptance.  Life does go on.

A younger version of me would have spent a lot of time analyzing the possible reasons—human or divine—for this abrupt change.  I might have wondered how I, and the vet, made such a mistake.  More likely, I’d have questioned what Life was trying to teach me about the build up and dashing of expectations, or about investing in a specific future.

Present-day me moved through that stage quickly.  Instead, I watched images of a future with kittens dissolve.  I didn’t dwell on blame or questions.  I gave thanks for our cat, Zoey, in our lives and let it be.  I let the sadness be, too.

The next day, a wise friend happened to ask, what are you doing right now in your life to bring you joy?  Great question.  I had to admit I wasn’t being proactive.  I was slumping, waiting for something outside me (like a houseful of kittens?) to bring me joy. 

She then shared a technique she invented to practice wellness.  She makes a list of things that her bring joy and does one an hour.  It might be as simple as listening to a particular song, or making soup, or journaling.

I loved this idea and started right away doing small things to inspire joy.  I drove by the llama farm to catch a glimpse of the newborns, took a walk in the sunlight, and listened to “Gabriel’s Oboe” performed by Henrik Chaim Goldschmidt.                        

Soon, I felt much lighter.

Now, I don’t expect to live in a joyful place all the time.  I don’t even believe that’s the goal.  But I do need a balance in tough times. 

I wonder, what might make your list?

Joy lives inside us.  Though prompted by people, animals, places or things, the qualitative experience we call joy is inward.  It’s our choice when to reach for that ever-present state and how to prompt an opening heart. 

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

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When Life Brings More Than You Expect!

by Emma Laurence

Meet Zoey.  We adopted her a month ago after my husband spotted her picture in an online listing. I was making breakfast one morning when I heard him say Oh…in that two-tone descending pitch that means someone just stole my heart.  I stepped over to peer at his laptop screen as soon as I could leave the stove.

Oh, my… Yep, that’s her, I thought, as we read Zoey’s story.  She looked intelligent, petite and sweet.  She was just under a year old; the owners were moving and had to rehome her asap. 

We’d been scanning photos for months, during which time we’d met two cats that were not a match.  We wondered when our cat (or small dog) would appear.  That afternoon, honoring social distancing with the humans, we picked Zoey up and brought her home. 

Zoey needed a few days to get used to us, but she never hid in fear.  She loved the sliding glass doors to the backyard and the many windows of our townhome.  We played laser light tag with her and provided plenty of space/time to adjust.  After a few weeks, she made a habit of jumping onto my lap every time I sat on the couch.

Then an unexpected development unfolded.  I had occasion to lift Zoey off a forbidden piece of furniture when I noticed she seemed heavier than before.  She’d been eating plenty in the transition from dry to canned food.  Yet she carried this extra weight in her lower belly, and I got the distinct impression she was pregnant. 

I texted the previous owner, is it even possible that… was she perhaps in contact with…?  Answers came back with a sincere apology.  Yes, it was “possible.”  There had been a male cat in the household at one time, but they’d had no idea.  Did we want help finding a new home, or did we want to return her? 

Nope.  We just wanted to know whether to follow through.

With the current pandemic, Dr. Ricci was only seeing urgent cases, but she agreed to an office visit so we could confirm.  While she couldn’t feel individual kittens yet, she was 90% sure we’d have a houseful in three weeks.

Oh, what a perfect spiritual set up.  From the moment we laid eyes on Zoey, we knew she was part of our family.  We just didn’t know she’d bring a whole family with her! And though we didn’t ask for kittens (as my brother-in-law said, say goodbye to 2am), we’re excited.  It’s an ideal time for hilarity and joy that we could never have planned.

Zoey expands our hearts’ capacity and stretches our ability to flow with life’s unexpected surprises.  Life will have Its way.  True and wise abundance brings gifts in all forms that we can trust are just right for us, right now. 

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Wake Up Your Wisdom

by Emma Laurence

During challenging times, we often learn most about ourselves and our world.  If we anchor that learning, the wisdom gained lasts forever.

I started a journal last year called “perceptions on the edge of consciousness.”  I did so because I noticed some of the most important learning in my life was just barely registering in my conscious awareness.  If I could catch these subtle messages, these wisps of wisdom, and anchor them, I’d be integrating more of Life’s great teachings.

Concurrent with awakening and reeling in this inner wisdom came another realization. The most uplifting moments in my outer daily life could also pass by, barely noticed. 

As an example, my husband and I took a walk in our neighborhood this week.  We met a mom with her two young children on bikes with training wheels. We were drawn to them by their beautiful, rust-colored Cavapoo.  The dog was a magnet.  The family agreed that “Leo” was well loved.  Mom was shining with happiness, clearly relishing her parental role.

That evening, as I acknowledged the day’s gift moments, this meeting in the park landed at the top of the list.  Petting the beautiful dog and conversing with a loving family fed my heart.

My mind could easily have forgotten the brief encounter, or judged it as insignificant in the overall scheme of things.  Especially so if I had a list of tasks to accomplish that appeared to be the most important focus of the day.  It would be so easy to pass by. 

I track gift moments because they feed my spirit.  They show me how Life is coaching, guiding and supporting me.  They teach me that my path crosses with others not in a random and chaotic manner, but in a pattern that supports my service.  Maybe this occurs because I put service and love as my first priority (and I’ve learned to include caring for myself as service).  Or maybe, it’s happening to us all, if we awaken to the possibility.

We’ve all unearthed profound life lessons from difficult times. Wisdom is born of experience.  If we anchor that wisdom by consciously recognizing the moments that would otherwise be tossed aside, by bringing what’s just at the brink of our awareness into the human world, could we enter a state in which goodness becomes perpetually visible?  I’m beginning to see this possibility.

This is not a Pollyanna approach or rose-colored glasses denial.  This is waking up to inner wisdom and outer gifts amidst the full array of life experiences.  It’s a way to keep the heart open and the spirit in flight—two keys to serving all Life with greater ease.

[I’m offering a free Wake Up Your Wisdom group coaching class on Saturday, March 28th for those who’d like to share what they’re learning from this challenging time. Contact me at [email protected] for an invitation.]

Photo by Tim Foster on Unsplash

This Gift Moment

by Emma Laurence

I stood casually in the lobby of my Temple chatting with friends before an evening event.

All of us had moved to Minneapolis within the last couple of years from various places on the American map.  One couple had relocated only last week.

How did we get to this moment? I wondered with awe, knowing each of us had a powerful story that brought us to the precise place of standing in that lobby. 

In fact, the chances that we’d all be in the same place at the same time were incalculable given the miracles that had to occur for the moment to exist.  These were major miracles like financial windfall, marital reinvention, a rare real estate opportunity. 

Some dreamed of this moment.  Some never saw it coming.

Earlier that day, my sister shared moments of grace and protection—being able to say goodbye to someone who’s in Hospice, being helped by cheerful doctors and nurses who tended an injury she’d sustained in the kitchen.

A friend texted to thank me for referring her to a health care practitioner and another friend saying she had a special experience to share when I had time. 

My husband and I considered an overseas adventure trip while, outside the front window, our next door neighbor walked her dog quickly in subzero temperatures.

This movement of people and places, beginnings and endings, all in motion as if part of one large dance fascinates me.

If we could see from above, what would the pattern look like? 

I believe it would be mind-blowing.

We make choices based on the intention we set for our lives.  And Life responds by bringing us people, pets, experiences and opportunities in alignment with that intention.

Our ability to perceive the gift of this moment is all we can truly lay claim to in this life.  The future doesn’t exist; the past is a whisper.  But the present breath is alive.  Are we?

The next time you’re casually standing with friends in a parking lot or strangers in a grocery store line, gathered with co-workers at a meeting or with family at a dinner table, you may want to take a moment to breathe in the gift.  This is Life. 

P.S.  As an aside, I was challenged to find a photo of people taken from above to accompany this blog.  Aerial shots of landscapes are plentiful, but not of people. 

What does that say about the viewpoint from which we see ourselves?  And what could we learn by getting above to look upon our lives below?

Photo by Fritz Olenberger