——— Lest I pass in this space Moments in silence Never to be replaced When witnessing becomes purpose Grass seeping into molecules And loose tendrils across your scalp Earthy palate resting upon tiny nodes of taste Remembrance being my name When waves blend into the wind And you’d not conceived of the difference Were it not for words on a paper In consciousness separating through sound form Is it that we play this game because remembrance means bliss? Do we get wrapped up in time because infinity seems too boring? Questioning egoic separation When separation is derived from suffering Error laden on taut shoulders Until we begin to forget ourselves But in moments where ego can begin to observe itself– Desires, goals, vices, judgments, dislikes Each impressionable markings creating character There is One unchangeable variable throughout stories In being that which is written must be Created Creation deriving from One Source embodying all All posing as mirrors of expert artistry Light as a feather as each flow on top of crashing waves Treading gently, merging infinitely As the droplet evokes remembrance And once again returns to the ocean
If there’s one thing you consider today When God feels far Just remember That you truly never left.
Early on in my life I ascertained that I’d decided that I wanted to be as carefully calculated as I could. Carefully calculated meaning that I could warrant some semblance of control over my life – pick the perfect career, nurture loving friendships, work within my field of passion. In reflection, I’d say that I’ve done much to maintain this sense of control. Letting go of things I’d felt were a hinderance to my path, I moved with calculating and meticulous selfishness in order to conquer and achieve my goals. And yet somehow still found that this wasn’t enough.
Human plight is actually quite comical. Egos fight with one another for the reclamation of power, wanting control over each and every circumstance in its path. It wants money, power, women/men, children, property. Or perhaps recognition, fame, to be seen and witnessed. The ego climbs the ladder looking for more and more and even when the ladder ends it begins to pull from the former steps building new ones so that it can climb again.
When climbing ladders, it is rare that we pause to truly gaze at our surroundings. Enamored with the promise of triumph and possibly bewildered with fear, we understand that the ladder is only means to an end, so we climb up faithfully never checking to tune in with fresh surroundings of new heights. At this point in my life, with all that I have accomplished, I reflect on the solemn reality that prestige, power and material things will never fulfill me. I’ve made prayers and asked for things only God could deliver and assuredly, my life is a testament to His word in delivery. But the moment calls for us to pause the climb and bask in His blessings during a time where it would seem few are blessed.
But this morning, I’ve woken up to birds chirping in North Carolina winds. A roof over my head, food in my belly from the night before, a cup of tea waiting on the coffee table before me. I’ve had the ability to feel remorse at missing my morning prayer and a longing for communion with my Creator. I’m surrounded by loved ones who whisper prayers of abundance, blessing and safety over me as I venture along this new journey of being still. I have a keyboard to write words that may not sound exquisitely poetic but remain dear to my being as reflections of the truth I exist in.
Blessings are very apparent and simple when we are able to tune into their presence. Our Creator has given us an insurmountable amount of things to be gracious for, if only we’d stop to reflect on the simplest of things. And those simple things bring forth a reverence for nature constantly moving in perfect design, allowing us to take in fresh breaths each morning thankful for our hearts steady beating.
At this pause upon the ladder, I’m taking careful time to find God in everything and everyone so that living does not become about what the world can offer to me or even what I can offer it; but how everything we need is already given. It’s here; right now. And in this awareness, living stems from a place of wholeness where the relationship becomes unconditionally loving, reciprocal and revered. Where one sees God in the whole and treats it as so. Moving through living with love, kindness, patience and gratitude.
There is no place that we are arriving, nothing that we are seeking. Everything that we need is already here, the gamble is practicing enough mindfulness and presence to tune into that. Every day we have the choice of how we perceive our reality. And that choice will either place us in a mental Hell or allow us to walk forward into the Kingdom of Heaven.
In the spirit of transformation, among tribeswomen and tribesmen, tells are often told of the miraculous changes protagonists undergo before coming into total culmination of their being. Just like the caterpillar that sheds it old skin, we marvel at the butterfly as it climbs its way from rotten, old cocoons—thus, beginning its flight into the new world.
I can recall watching those butterflies perch themselves on flowers in my mothers garden, respecting their strength which lead to insurmountable beauty as it fluttered its wings commanding gentle attention and reverence. But lately, I’ve been feeling less like a butterfly and more of the caterpillar in its cocoon phase. Hanging upside down, unmoving, almost hauntingly still save for small movements that motion the caterpillar toward dissolving its tissue in small stages to release its wings. In this cocoon stage, I sometimes wonder if I will ever begin to take my rightful flight as a butterfly.
In reflecting on the effects of the pandemic, I’ve frequently found myself toying with this idea of liminal space. Liminal space points to a period of stillness where one has left old existence and is in transition, waiting for the arrival of new creation. In anthropology, it’s a rite of passage, where the initiated is in process but not embodying complete status. In liminal space, it can almost feel as if one is “stuck”, not able to return back to old comfort zones yet still waiting for their arrival in new stages.
Transition often does feel like dissolving tissues on the subtle body in order for a new one to emerge. Some days the discomfort threatens one until they begin retracing old steps, leading them back to what is old but well-known. Other days the promise of newness beacons them to an invigorating journey where the commitment toward expansion allows for rebirth. But as we wait for the sweetness and finality of rebirth, we must endure the process of pregnancy. In those stages where it seems that life is forming from absolute nothingness, growing at a steady yet unhurried pace, we can begin to nurture and prepare ourselves in subtle cues so that it translates seamlessly to the new life.
This is truly what transition is all about. It is not the process of landing, where we finally reap the benefits of what we have sowed—but each process in between. The decision to leave the old, the waiting for the new, what we do during that wait and the inevitable arrival. In liminal space, we lay groundwork for how we wish to live in the new emergence until one day we wake up in our new identity. Transition, in its brilliance often creeps along weary but firm tissues and vigorous cells until we surprisingly have enough strength to crawl from the birthing canal, the cocoon, spread our wings and fly into new, anticipated space.
Thus claiming our rightful place on the petals of plentiful flowers, basking in the gift of expansion and transformation from the Divine.
From self-observation, one will find there are many ego games at play all in one instance. When we talk of surrender, we literally mean the ability to be able to completely relinquish control— or the illusion of such in which we place our faith in the hands of our Creator. Surrender requires trust: understanding that God’s plans are much more unbounded and perfect than our own. Some may say that they find surrender on the mat in the midst of yoga. When one contorts their body into pretzel-like poses or even a simple leaning forward onto stretched out legs, feeling muscles pulse in their struggle to release its hold, break, tear and form deeper into this shape.
Or perhaps surrender comes during that moment in meditation where words become sparse and one begins to hear sounds circling around them. Listening to cars whiz by; laughter from children across the street at a playground; birds in flight, the wind carrying melodious chirps or; a slight ringing sound of silence. In those moments where oneself begins to blend with the world around them, the realization that separation is the mass hallucinogenic illusion we’ve all implicitly agreed upon becomes ever so clear.
Maybe surrender arrives in the midst of prayer. When a chant and intention becomes vibration—pulsating across a thousand membranes and cells implanting itself through muscle memory. Our voices mirroring the very tremors that shaped the universe. With Gods name heavy on our tongue, hearts begin to tremble at the humble awareness of the familiar essence of its Creator. Reverence becoming our name, we bow our heads in humility understanding our own creation and God’s mercy in manifesting us.
In reality, many humans have issues with surrender in many aspects of daily living. Perhaps it’s a trouble to commit to a routine, to acknowledge our imperfection, a negligence to pull ourselves from self-importance, a lack of humility, difficulty with bowing our heads in prayer or even admitting that we do not have all of the answers.
The lesson of surrender arrives in many forms; in many that we have endured during this very year. As difficult as it may get, I am keen to remember that surrender often arrives in places where God seeks to be revered. In these spaces, we are asked to drop the force of “personal will” to allow something much bigger and wiser than ourselves to emerge. We are joined with the force of nature which knows no illusory separation and fully submits itself to the will of the Creator, following His commandments. And due to this submission, nature poses as eternally and infinitely beautiful—a reflection of God Himself which stands as a reminder to those whom seek wisdom. This wisdom allows for us to reclaim the seat of our being, causing the to submergence into submission and reemerge of our likeness of God, thus returning to our own timeless divine nature. In this we never fear the illusion of death as we return to infiniteness.
Thus our very breath turning into a return, reverence and prayer to The Most High.
Fraught with fear, each of us has been the victim of deep programming that has taken place over the course of millennia. With our descent into this earthly plane, we have been sold this story of illusion where we were stripped of divine nature and placed into a universe that was somehow separate from us. Never mind that we contain all of the stuff that the universe is created from, no—we were sold this story of separation, creating disillusionment and amnesia of who we truly are.
Are you ready for remembrance?
Over the course of the past three years, I’ve been diving deeper into the spirituality of my native peoples. My forefathers and foremothers knew of no belief that created division but only of the One true Creator from which all of Creation derives. This Creator could be found mirrored in all of creation, as the patterns in trees modeled the pattern in human anatomy, veins coursing through taut skin make from earths dirt like roots running in the core of Gaia. A mirror of all of creation, reflections posing back up to the Creator. This spirituality forgotten the longer we stayed on this earthly plane and began to create the illusion of separateness through category, different symbols, language, culture and of course, race.
At the core of it all, we are all one, each seeking a place to call home. In their disillusionment, many may search for home in a place, a country, a temple or even a persons arms. Search we may, the answer is certain. As we continue to have this communal experience with everything in nature speaking back to us, our home is and has always been in the One from which we were never separate. In the One whom exists when all ceases to endure, when play ceases to continue and the curtains close. The witness, ever present and ever knowing.
The deprogramming is dissolving the illusion of separation created by egoic chains. The ego wishes to create this illusion of separateness to maintain the arrogant story of self-importance. In truth, we are important because we are One, not separate into fractal pieces each fighting for selfish power and domination. The infinite connection is a birthright known by our ancestors, a hidden truth they’d fought to understand. The true seeker understand that there is no truth to be sought. It has always been within, waiting to be recognized.
And so it has always been. We are here. We are whole. We are one.
Genuinely Jannah 