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Words in Sentences

All Saints Day Devotion & Meditation

by ErinLeave a Comment on All Saints Day Devotion & Meditation

Sit in a quiet space. See to it that you feel a great amount of comfort, as guided by your intuition. You can do this meditation on a person you have lost personally or on behalf of somebody you know who is grieving. You do not have to know the person personally to be able to stand in the gap for those who have buried their family or friends. You may also think of a cultural loss – such as all of those lost in this pandemic and their family and friends who mourn them.

Ideas:

  • Mug of hot water
  • Light a candle
  • Favorite perfume or oil
  • Article of clothing that fits loosely, feels soft on the skin
  • Draw the curtains or play with the natural light
  • Place a mirror in a thoughtful position
  • Toss a blanket in the dryer for a bit
  • Dab the lips with vaseline, rub lotion onto the feet or massage the wrists

Once you are situated, have your phone or printed paper with these instructions nearby. Read a section and then sit with it for a moment. When the mind gets restless (which may be right away, that is fine) move on to the next section.

Warm Up

  • Breathe in through the nose and sigh the exhale out of an open mouth
  • In a seated pose, circle the torso forward and then back, curving the spine. Think about “knocking easy tension” off the body as your circle. Let the neck and head be a part of your movement, Get into it.
  • Your meditation while breathing in this manner and moving in this manner: “Be Near, Assurance”
  • Continue circling, breathing with this meditation until you feel a little buzz, you grow weary, you naturally stop. Pause in the stillness and continue with the meditation “Be Near, Assurance” and bring your loved one, family or friend, to mind and notice the sensation in the body.

Pose 1

  • Breathe in through the nose and sigh the exhale out of an open mouth, allowing yourself to be audible in your exhales
  • Stretch the body out on a mat, blanket or in your bed – take a full body stretch.
  • Position a cushion or firm pillow under the knees. Roll a blanket under the ankles. Allow a thin cushion under the neck. If you have an eye cushion, lay it over the eyes.
  • Your meditation while breathing in this manner, in this pose, will be “Assurance, I see you”
  • Rest in this pose for anywhere from 6 – 15 minutes. Feel free to set a timer or simply just rest. Witness the breath and bring to mind any thoughts, memories, smells or nostalgic remnants of your loved one. As you experience this pose, have the words “Assurance, I see you” accompany your feelings and the thoughts or images that arise.

Pose 2

  • Breathe in through the nose, allowing yourself to make a snoring sound. Sometimes it takes a minute to find this! But a classic “waking snore” can relieve a lot of tension and add an element of humor to your practice that burns a little stubborn ego off.
  • Lay on your right side. Position a pillow between the two legs. Ensure the head is supported. Position the body against a firm cushion, a pillow up against a wall or a bolster in order to feel a sense of support at your back. Hands to clasp or in prayer pose is ideal, but go for comfort above all else.
  • Your meditation while snoring in this pose will be, “I assure you”
  • Rest in this pose for anywhere from 6 – 15 minutes. When the snoring naturally subsides or if it becomes “work”, let it go. Notice the freedom possible in repeating “I assure you” on an inhale without having to say “who” is “you” or “what” you are assuring anybody for. Rather, the energy and compassion behind such words are what we are manifesting in the repetition.

Final Rest

  • Allow the breath to come and go as it may in your final rest
  • Lay on your back once again or with the legs up the wall, especially if you have anxiety or have had an anxious day. Support the body similar to in pose 2.
  • Your meditation while resting in this pose will be, “I am here”
  • Rest in this pose, inviting the person you have loved and lost to see you. For the spirit to draw near. For a sense of calm and peace.

I will be praying for all of those taking this practice. I pray regularly for the grieving, for the suffering. If this is you, know you are being held.

Namaste :)

Words in Sentences

Towel Update @ Sitting with a Smoothie

by Erin1 Comment on Towel Update @ Sitting with a Smoothie

Today, on my bathroom rounds, I had the surprise of (count ‘Em) *two* towels on the mini shelf in the main floor 2nd bathroom.

Now, I want to thank you all for the outpouring of support and encouragement after my last post about the towels @ coffee on the couch – saint louis. And I would like to invite you deeper into the mystery of the towel on the shelf.

Now, my working theory is that one of the daughters has an aversion to using the same hand towel as other people. Try as I might to offer and assure with the regularity to which this towels are switched out and washed…

That is why I have allowed myself to let the towel remain on the shelf for a day or two. I’m assuming somebody wants it for their use.

BUT. Now – now that we have two towels on the shelf, that tells me this theory can’t be right unless the child grows disgusted of even using their own towel to dry their hands…

Which presents now a different theory, similar to the one I have for the upstairs bathroom, that somebody has a towel preference… right?

Thoughts????

It’s a two towel on the shelf kind of Wednesday
Words in Sentences

“from the help” @ study, saint louis, foggy day

by ErinLeave a Comment on “from the help” @ study, saint louis, foggy day

Parents traditionally delight in their children taking their first steps, demolishing their baby size birthday cakes, dressed up in a costume… a bow… a little baby tux.

As a mother, I know the feeling of delight when I am delighting in my children. I have actively stayed still in present moments to strictly observe whatever they are doing – watching the game they came into on their own, watching their slow waking moments, watching them watching something all on their own.

Matter of fact, this ties into an early intention I set for things like outings to the zoo: let them sit as long as they wish. It doesn’t matter to me how much ground we cover, we can sit in front of the hippos, we can camp out in the birdhouse. Dwell. Delight.

This made for many childhood younger year memories but also, last year, when my 13 year old stepdaughter came to live in St. Louis for 6 weeks in the fall. Prior to the official move, the marriage; David and I let her give it a shot. I took her to the zoo and was mesmerized by how long she could sit, watching… observing. So I, too, sat… watched… observed.

I remember one time I delighted in Ellen; a time so uniquely unconventional for typical delighting that it was formative to my way of parenting. I was sitting on the couch, she was playing on the floor – maybe 2 1/2 or 3 years old. She got up from where she was playing, walked to the end table, grabbed a tissue and wiped her nose.

I cocked my head, squinted and smiled. Did she just get up from playing, aware of a tickle in her nose, know to get a tissue, get one and care for herself? Did she help herself become more comfortable? Surely, she was aware of herself.

Fast forward five years later, she is 7 or 8 and her parents are divorced. I moved out into a small apartment and – though I was experiencing a tremendous amount of relief and freedom in my life – I was naturally processing grief, specifically in relationship to the loss my children took in the break up and the definitions that were shifting for them.

There was one night I went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. It was a peachy-pink tiled bathroom with a big deep tub, stained glass window and warm lighting over a big huge vanity mirror. On the counter was my toothbrush, resting on a fold of toilet paper with toothpaste on it. Next to it was a note, “From the help of Ellen”.

From the help of Ellen.

My heart, to this day, flutters when I think about this – this concept of each of us having a reservoir of help. Bounty of help, reserves of help, to offer ourselves and to offer others in this world; specifically those we are doing life with.

I think about her early demonstration of helping herself with her runny nose. I imagine a tank of help, swirling with awareness, from which she took a small withdrawal and then the experience of being cared for depositing more back in. Likewise, that night, kissing her sleeping soft cheeks – I deposited back into her tank.

I wonder about this concept a lot. That we have help (noun) instead of we help (verb). When we live in a way where giving is the action and the helping, the hoping stop and instead we have help to give, we have hope to give – does this shift the way we feel? Does it impact the way we consider ourselves able?

It’s a foggy grey day today and I have a few things to button up before starting up some work at 1p. I am curious if this thinking feels different to anybody out there. That’s all for now :) namaste…. erin