Don't you know yet? It is your light that lights the worlds.

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about.”  ~ Rumi

Lessons come in all varieties. It's just recognizing them when they come. 

I found myself frustrated with the process of my son's treatments, with myself and my son's doctor this weekend. In addition to those challenges, I am also evaluating some teachings I offered in the past. Not to dwell on them but to grow from them. 

Experience is the teacher and there is no substitute for the time it takes to learn these lessons, even when it feels like the same ones come over and over again just in various forms. 

Stepping away today from looking back into swiftly preparing future events and teachings. All the while, I am reminded of my vision to remain true to my desire to act, speak and teach from a soft heart and bold voice in this present moment. I

I love how Donna Farhi defines yoga as "a technology for arriving in the present moment." She goes on to say, "it is a means for waking up from our spiritual amnesia, so that we can remember all that we already know. It is a way of remembering our true nature, which is essentially joyful and peaceful. It is a means of staying in the intimate communication with the formative core matrix of yourself and those forces that serve to bind all living beings together. As you establish and sustain this intimate connection, this state of equanimity becomes the core of your experience rather than the rare exception."

To find that equanimity and connection, I am asking myself before I react to someone or something: 

Is it kind? 

Is it true? 

Is it necessary? 

When the answers are yes, then I am learning to cultivate graceful waiting, so that my reply doesn't come from a prideful, arrogant need to be in control kind of place. As a visionary of the course I aspire to chart, I acknowledge that I have no control over anything but my own choices. 

This work isn't about giving things up or even changing who I am to please someone else. It's a gradual falling away of those things that no longer nourish my heart. All of that seems to come when I take time to be still, listen and wait. 

When I lie in that grass, as Rumi says, the whole world is deeply vibrant and still- almost too full to talk about. And, in that stillness the lessons of life become like the constellations lighting the night sky. The light, my own, becomes bright and clear showing me the way.