Making Sense of “Distractions”

Distractions…Distractions…

A thousand thoughts in my mind and I can’t pick one of them. If I’d just allow myself to rest, to take the time to unfurl the clenched fists that bleeds onto white sheets and stains its coat with a deep red brilliance, maybe I’d learn that my ego loves the color its left with. I wonder why at times I don’t allow myself time to rest before venturing onto a new task? My mind confounded with new ideas, different revelations, more things to learn, worlds to explore—its intoxicating, exciting, humbling, overwhelming, tiring and then finally…a distraction.

Distractions feel so beautiful sometimes. They feel like an absorption of complete attention; I’m consumed by the story of another. I wish to be consumed by that which I am distracted by. Whether than is another person, a good book, a beautiful fragrance, the songs my plants sing to me or a reflective piece of art—I’m looking to be immersed in its presence until it absolves my own.

And I wonder about that. I wonder what it is about the feeling of being absorbed, being selfless in the presence of distractions that a part of me craves? My teacher beckons me to reflect on the ways that I use some of my spiritual energy and natural intuitive processes to be absorbed into another, to merge with them completely and in the process lose myself. Maybe that’s why sex feels like a holy space of connection as opposed to release. A tension that allows for me to break free from performance and be immersed in my body, in the moment, completely merged with another as he loses himself inside of me again and again. Wondering where I end, and he begins—who knows and who cares as we crash into each other until one of us has had enough.

And in the aftermath, there’s more merging. Now we get to reflect on the experience as we hold each other in our arms. My heart longs for the ability to touch another’s, to listen to a similar rhythmic beat and create our own vibrational tune. To be in love, to be present to another yet distracted from myself.

Maybe it’s my lesson right now to learn what it means to be present in these “distractions”. Instead of losing “me” what if I claim myself in the midst of each moment. What if I witness my thoughts and observe them as they pass through? What if I watch myself choose to learn new things, listen to different music, venture through new worlds? What if I watch as I become absorbed with the “distraction”, losing track of the small “me” but opening to the me that is always deeply connected to all that is. What if I learn to use this merging as a way of merging with The One?

Distractions aren’t all bad. Sometimes they are beautiful, wonderful, exciting, thought provoking, erotic and damn-right fun. But what if I didn’t need distractions to distance myself from that egoic self? What if I could mindfully merge while observing each moment in a space of presence instead of loss of self. And what if I learned how to stand as fully present with the larger “Self”?

Does it even exist? It must..or how could I think of it? Could I even do it? I must…or why am I asking it? Is it so difficult? Perhaps…but struggle is often worth it. And I’m tired of leaving pieces of myself behind to merge with smaller ones when I know I’m in search of something bigger, something all encompassing, the Oneness I prayed to merge into.

Distractions are distractions…but distractions might be the thing that leads me back home.

Into remembrance.

A Season of Change

Lately I’ve been feeling the energy of endings coursing through my body, racing through my veins up until it reaches my tear ducts, dripping slowly to land on the corners of my lips. I taste its bittersweet saltiness as I swallow deeply and allow for it to make its passage once again. I can’t refute the fact that change is often painful as life sucker punches us with it over and over again. Yet, somehow this current change in my life doesn’t feel quite like a sucker punch. Instead, it is the gentlest, most wistful kiss.

I’m amazed to realize that much of my endings do not have to derive from deep pain and betrayal. They can instead arrive in a package that perches itself on my doorstep, a nicely wrapped bow beckoning me to wonder what its contents is. It can be a phone call that says “yes, you got the job” or a letter that reads “Congratulations! You’ve been admitted into ___”. Or even soft lips that whisper “I’ll always love you” as they kiss you goodbye.

Endings are never easy. For me each ending requires a moment of deep surrender to what was and a trust in what will be. These days that are arriving require much faith, so I place my forehead on the ground and ask for strength. I ask for God to enlighten me with softness in moments where I’d thought I wouldn’t have any and to lead me on a path that I can’t even see clearly. Yet, I know, I feel that this is destiny.

As things end, I usually take the time to look around and take stock. What are the things that I have created with my hands; what are those things I’ve unwittingly destroyed? Were my words too harsh, too passive or timed just right? Did I extend forgiveness in moments where I was a little less than perfect and simply just human? Trying to reason my way through moments where I’ve felt too much because it felt too painful to feel. Have I run away from my own reflection in the hopes of drowning myself in anothers—only to find those eyes reflecting my image once again? And this time will I sit quietly with myself? These are questions that I ask when the ending arrives, and we are left with the fruits of the seeds we’ve sown.

Though endings can be heart-wrenching, honestly all that I witness is love. I see love in the fearful gaze of another as they attempt to hide what is on their mind and shield the fragility of their heart. “I make you feel so naked, don’t I” a question frequently repeated in my mind’s eye. Well, my love, my heart is sewn right onto my sleeve—believe me I feel naked too. Endings always make me feel naked, bringing me right back to my natural self, my child self; unsure and twisting my hands at what I’ve wrought, wondering if I could’ve been anything more than human. But even in that space of remorse, grief and longing, I turn to look in the reflection of my own gaze and still find love.

Love is the thing that makes a fool of us all. And saves us all in the same instance. Love is the thing that makes each moment of laughter, joy, pain, heartbreak worth it—love as a never-ending source of life. Its love that whispers “this door needs to close so that another can be opened”. Its love that rocks me gently as I cling to the past in the hopes that it’ll never reject or abandon me. Its love that wipes my tears, holds my face gently and gazes at me with a knowing that it remains present even when my mind is convinced that it’s going. It’s love that allows for me to pick my head up, look at that closed door and bow in complete and utter reverence. It’s the surrender that makes me revere loves presence. A divine surrender so spiritual my mind cannot conceive of it. It is only my heart that falls into a stupor, drunk with it. Love coursing so deeply within me carrying me to the new door that awaits with hope, inspiration and faith. Love that whispers, “are you ready? You got this, let’s open it together” leading me into a new energy. Love, that awaits on the other side with open arms, accepting, transformative and eternally present. Love that whispers “endings are an illusion that brings you back into presence helping you to realize; I’ve always been here. I have always been the ultimate reality. This is the ultimate truth.”

Love as a space of remembrance, continuously bringing me right back home.

So with love, I thank you for your presence. I thank you for your lessons. I thank you for bringing me back to remembrance.

A heart filled with love.

Xx Heaven

10 Years of Longing

Times passing idly

Beckoning me to make my peace

Is it that I see your face

My heart confounding itself trying to match your beat

Do we miss each other coincidentally?

Or was it that once we fit perfectly,

Like a puzzle piece

Only now to fall into the trashes debris-

Chipped and out of shape

Unable to fit fully

Has the tale of “the one that got away” stolen our stability?

Nights of longing with partners lying beside both you and me

Drawn into a hazy dream of what used to be

Has life has lost is lustre and presence?

Its golden glitter turned into a sinners heaven

Using sex as a pawn to meet in the depths

And emotional distance to shield our hearts from what comes next

There’s something about this story that makes it so difficult to complete

Even with the impossibility of finding equal ground to meet

Timings off, no wait, persons wrong

Like falling crescendo’s and flat notes in an old song

Gone are the days where we used to dance together right on beat

Stories of yesterday building the foundation where we meet

But yesterday is gone and tomorrow waits for no one

Holding the reality that this songs chorus will inevitebly be done

Can this love transform, grow and finally meet?

Or will times departure force this love train to leave?

In this space of mystery and wonder, allow our hearts to fill in the beats

And perhaps we might lead our own paths to finally make our peace..

The Journey of Acceptance—Foundations of Inner Peace

How comical is it that we plan?

Life lately has felt like a whirlwind of moments, a tsunami of emotion crashing down on unsteady pavement as the world quakes around it. Times like these are a practice in what it means to embody patience and faith while many are left feeling faithless. In the midst of chaos, we are being asked “how will you keep your peace?” And for those who remember the ways of old, the ways of the mystics, perhaps an even deeper question from Our Creator, “how will you remember me?”

I recall my father teaching me the ancient ways of the prophets, speaking their language to me. In a beautiful tongue I could hardly understand, he proceeded to decipher it to me. Though I was just as young, naïve and unassuming as any young girl would be, I feel now that something deep inside registered this as sound truth to me. Perhaps it was the spirit of my grandmother egging me on, her spiritual roots blooming deeply within my core. Or maybe it was the essence of milk and honey resting upon my tongue after whispering sacred words for the love of God to my soul. A part of me wonders was it the emotional tone that conveyed its seriousness to my psyche? But now I understand that all of my ego’s conceptions, descriptions and explanations do not matter. Because the truth, in all of its covetedness appears now in plain sight to me.

We are each cycling with the pulling of the sun, being dragged by gravity into a singing symphony of remembrance. In the midst of destruction, can we return to our nature, can we find our Creator? Can we live earnestly and speak a word that is good? Can we encourage others to listen deeply and reflect frequently on what is right? Are we allowed to give grace and patience in moments that don’t seem to quite make sense? And allow these moments to bring us a touch of grace, the miracle of wisdom? When we allow ourselves to fall deeply into surrender, into letting what will be, be—we earn the rights of our markers for deep faith. When we listen earnestly before we speak, we are able to witness clearly the truth that is sometimes hard to see. And when we allow ourselves to fail miserably, to hurt fully, we open ourselves to the deepest form of love that ironically comes from grief.

Are you grieving the state of the world as many others are? To be alive to witness times where many wander aimlessly, where we struggle to find a place to stand on shaky ground, to float atop the ark in the newly created sea—have you found a place where you can process your grief? I’ve found that in this space of mass information given to an unassuming audience; to many who can’t help but to obtain the stimulation their mind seeks many are choosing to forgo their peace. Or have begun to forget that peace is even an option for ordinary people such as you and me.

This isn’t meant to be a one-size fits all post for solutions that will bring about a new meaning to tomorrow, a new solution and exercise for world peace. But to let go of all reasoning and simply be. To allow ourselves the grace of processing grief and being open to the lessons that arrive in its place. When grief takes place, we can open our hearts to more patience, kindness and faith than many would be apt to see. And it allows us to become the people we were always meant to be.

My father always quoted to me, “we are the ones we are looking for”. I thought it’d once knew its meaning but now it is truly plain to me. In a space where we can strengthen one another to cry, to hurt, to laugh, to scream, to fuck up and make mistakes while we try to make sense of what is currently happening, we can touch a reservoir of faith and plant its seeds. And this is the blessing of the chaos ensuing that will bring many to finally choose inner peace.

Your sister,

Jannah

Releasing the False Self—Ramadan Reflections

This Ramadan has been quite peculiar for me.

In this place of merging tradition with intentional ritual and releasing faulty conditioning of the Ultimate Truth, I have found myself at the seat of paradoxes one can find lying beneath the tyranny of the false self.

Where are the people, the items, the identities that will bring us to The Most High? We find ourselves seeking practices, ritual and information as a means of searching for this Ultimate Truth. And still, many will miss it.

This search for truth is often found when the haze of clouds disappear overlooking the sky. As Rumi writes, “God has shown us the foam and obscured the ocean”. We see the dust but missed the wind. How is it that we are searching for that which has existed all along?

We search and search once again, only to find consciousness peaking beneath the level of our awareness. Then attention becomes displaced and once again—this awareness escapes us. How is it that we have missed the gold that peaks from beneath the surface? Or even more importantly, how can we grasp the gold when we are confounded with the earth settled on top of it?

This is what it means to operate under the false self, to be consumed by the evils of our own minds—fear, doubt, shame, guilt, judgement and compulsion. Many of us condemn the hell we are afraid of entering—yet perpetuate its presence in our lives through each waking moment.

In moments we choose our false selves over the reflection of the Divine, we have lost Ultimate Truth. In moments we find ourselves tethered to unnecessary impulses, compulsive needs of the lower self, an inability to sit in the wake of nothingness, of silence—we are forfeiting our birthright to the Ultimate Truth. And what is this truth exactly? It is the presence of God that is so apparently in our face, we lose vision of Him each time we turn our face.

It is nothing to be ashamed of, but everything to be conscious of. In this world where we are faced with so much distraction, temptation, anger and strife—remembrance of God becomes not only a necessity, but our saving grace. And I do not mean the God that is defined through religious dogma and rules to regulate human conduct. I mean the Creator that exists beyond space and time—residing, etched deeply into every facet of His magnificent Creation. Including ourselves.

This is what I have learnt this Holy Month. That behind routine, there is the intention and importance of ritual that brings us to a place of purposeful remembrance. And this remembrance allows us to let go of ourselves, let go of our false identities in favor of remembering the fullness of that from which we have come. To embody our divinity and let go of conditioning, false idols and hatred. To release our arrogance and fall to our faces in humility and lack of perfection. And even in those shameful reflections, find the need for the love of God.

💛 I pray the Creator purify my speech, in my intentionality to bring forth His magnificence.

💛 I pray this month be an opening to each of our awakening.

For this, is the truest, most enduring healing 🌸

Have a wonderful second half of this Holy Month.

Your sister,

Xx Heaven