Creating the Perfect Moment

I’ve been thinking much about the reality of time. How time is so precious and yet we materialize in and out of its presence, almost forgetting its essence. It’s been 7 months since my partner and I finished our road trip and all I can do is continue to look back at the old pictures, the beautiful moments in time never to be captured again.

Its actually quite comical, because I was struck by this hauntingly beautiful dilemma after injuring my wrist. After getting off of work, while rushing to eat before leaving for my appointment, I pressed down on my already aching wrist and felt the bones snap into place, moving visibly underneath my skin. Whew! It was a crazy feeling and one that filled me with a good amount of anxiety. So, I left in anticipation and gratitude that I was on the way to my weekly chiropractic appointment with my wrist wrapped in a mesh beige cloth, restricting some of its movement. And yet, with each turn of my steering wheel, a bit of my wrist protested in pain, sore from over usage or even perhaps a misplaced bone. All at once, my ego began to fold in on itself – “I can’t believe this is happening! I hope I didn’t break my wrist; I don’t have any insurance; I don’t have enough money to pay for a hospital visit; I need to save up cash; why would this would happen now” and more and more and more. Until the anxious inner voice became so frantic that it began to blend into the chaos of everything else happening in that moment.

And then, it hit me. First my thoughts began to shift into awareness of my inner worry and anxiety, then curiosity (“I wonder how people who have arms amputated are still able to be content, loving and peaceful? Could I do that?”), to acceptance (“I’ve been on this earth for 25 years, my body has begun its merits of breaking down on me. I’m glad that I really am not my body.”), to just plain laughter. The laughter resulting from a deep knowing that had arisen from the state of affairs. In the midst of the anxiety, turned acceptance, I realized that many of us are only called to gratitude when something goes wrong. When things are right, we exercise this sense of entitlement to that space of peace. When my wrist was not sprained or in pain, I threw it around without even thinking about it. I typed for hours at a computer, flexing the muscles in that very hand without any feeling of exhausting. And I opened many doors, braced falls, held items in this same hand—with this same wrist. Not very often did the appreciation and love materialize for this functioning body part. I mean, why should it, I was working as it should. I hardly even think I was paying attention to it to be completely honest. And so, the laughter ensued, that so often we are so mad, perpetually caught up in the moment with other thoughts, preoccupied with mental worries and fears (that with a bit of release would fade away) that we often miss the preciousness of each moment. That we forgo gratitude for the simple things and forget the miracle of EACH aspect of living.

In the same way I’d travelled for 7 months and began to miss the small moments of driving into a new city, trying new foods, the newness of a blossoming relationship—I missed the full functionality of my aching hand. And in that longing, I realized the importance that presence and gratitude plays in allowing us to cherish each moment as something that is timeless, even as it begins to slip away from us.

In truth, I never marveled as how important being grateful for and counting those simple things mattered until I became a crisis counselor. Depression often starts from huge, (many times) painful moments that capture our attention from the small graces God gives us… Until those small graces don’t even matter anymore, until inner resentment clouds our ability to even see clearly. And its so crazy, so beautiful that it is the small blessings in life that allow for us to have a deeper relationship to our inner-being and God. It’s the recognition of God’s face, this Being’s mastery and compassion in every aspect of Creation that allows for us to practice a deepening in the moment of presence.

It was this presence that allowed for us to return to the Kingdom where our true selves lie and bask in the timeless gift of each moment.

This peace, I wish for each one of us throughout our own inner journeys back into the reality of who we have always been.

Timeless.

PS—Yes, my hand is healing and feels tremendously better. Thank the Creator.

Happy Holidays

Heaven

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

Fatal Attacks of “Imposter Syndrome”

Do we really ever create work that is “original”?

I ask this question after taking a social media sabbatical and having trouble with the process of creation. In my own inner development, I find that some of the tools I had been using as a means of fortifying my creativity had begun to lose its spark. In the reclamation of this spark, I began pursuing meaning, ideas, information and innovations outside of myself to regain its merits. Hoping to reclaim this Creative instinct and spirit, I’d hoped that witnessing its merit in others would ignite it in myself. And though this plan did arise some interest, its heaviness begun to weigh deeply when the idea of “originality” began to escape my ego’s grasp.

What is it about being “original” that brings us some sense of pride? Is it being able to say, “I put out the greatest piece of work anyone has seen”? Is it that we feel proud of displaying work no one has ever seen, even at the threat of others disapproval? Is it that through the Creative Spirit of The One being channeled, we are able to find our place in the world once more? What is this “originality” that society seems to be harping on each of our creative thought process?

In lui of my make-up, I suppose it is imperative that I go through a constant rewashing. Through this rewashing, I find that deconstructing and recreating programs are integral to not just growth but my understanding of life. We each have a means and manner of behaving in this world. And through our means, God has a deeper awareness and presence of all of the facets of His essence through creation. But how often do we allow the grace of this essence to shine forth.

The idea of originality, in the context of creating is just that—the unique, integral formation of God’s handiwork expressed through our individual essence. When I take this into account, I am quickly reminded that in a sense, nothing and everything is original all at the same damn time. Coming from this place of Oneness, we each are reflections of the One who has brought our existence from nothingness. We each are a culmination of experiences created through this encompassing entity, filtered through the reality of our perceptions. And when I keep this in mind, I realize that each word, each action, each thought are original in the sense that they come from my uniqueness, in the likeness of God.

If you were afraid to speak due to imposter syndrome, let this stand as a reminder that though we may feel the claws of false identity clinging to your chest—you stand alone as none of the identities you cling to, belonging only to the giver of identity Himself.

And that, I hope brings some semblance of release.

Life is effortless. Allow yourself to flow with ease.

Heaven

**Also as seen on Instagram @the_youthfulqueen

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

Limitless Living—The Art of Detachment

If there’s anything I’ve learned from traveling, I know how essential it is to pack light.

Traveling across the country has been a grace only inso much as you are able to practice a keen amount of flexibility. Some days will be absolute chaos—moving luggage from one place to the next, gathering groceries for the upcoming week, trying to build a temporary home out of a foreign location. The ability to be flexible is an indispensable trait that allows for one to have a deeper experience in new locations, an ability to nurture self-compassion in difficult moments and encourage growth. This flexibility in traveling, I’ve observed, is also something that is integral for our ability to create a healthy space psychologically as well.

To “pack light” literally means the way it sounds—to release baggage that simply is not helping us any longer. We each have years of experience, mental concepts and perspectives that become crystallized as we get older. But some of these crystalline perspectives cost us the ability to have inner growth. Or even inner peace. We feel heavy because we hold old stories to our chests, as if those stories even defined us; we clench tightly to old hurts and forgo forgiveness even as our palms bleed from the strain of constriction; we attack ourselves in the name of “self-preservation”, though it does nothing but damage our own inner trust. And when time comes for us to fly, we wonder why we are the bird that never leaves the nest. Leading to inevitable death.

To enjoy travel not only means enjoying seeing and experiencing a freshness of life around me, but also within myself. I can no longer afford the brunt of holding on to past hurts that no longer serve my ability to be peaceful and joyful in the present moment—my hands are too weary. I can no longer afford to spend the duration of my short time of this earth in self-caused pain, suffering and stagnation—my time is too precious. And I can no longer make excuses for worldly attachments fastening around my neck, keeping me tied to slippery ground, causing a rigidity in my uptight spine—I am meant to fly high above until I reach back into the heavens.

This is what it means to live a life that is limitless. A life that is all mine; a story between God and I, letting go of everything in between. I am so far beyond being defined by the resting place I place my head and so I will journey this world like a traveler—building a home within God only and myself.

What does living limitless look like to you?