WHEN WE SURRENDER INTO THE PORTAL OF LOSS, WHERE DO WE LAND?
My practice is to write:
Days of boiling emotions,
Rising and falling,
Expressed in the appropriate language.
These days English serves me better
Than my intellectual French heritage.
Going to the edge is a battle
To find the flow of words
Through deep, deep introspection
After battling my ego and my fears.
What I feel when I land
And yet there is grief.
When I seek the honest truth, I find joy.
Is that normal? Am I naïve?
Rubbing my nose in my fears
Of collapse and loss,
Nevertheless I land in joy.
The full moon invited me
To relinquish all I wished to let go of.
So I burned my dross in a ceramic pot
And released the ash into the lake
And onto the Earth.This was an act of Alchemy.
These questions evoked
The struggle, seemingly eternal,
usually with myself,
To bring me to that portal.
Until, all of a sudden, I’m there.
The eternal struggle is just gone.
I find myself wondering
About this new-found openness
To the unknown.
By softening into my inquisitive self,
Softening into the discomfort of not knowing,
I feel my feet landing on the Earth.
Curious to see what is actually here.
What brings me to the edge?
I don’t know how to walk that path deliberately.
It’s an outside agency that shoots me there.
When I surrender, I fall through a dark tunnel
Into a blue-green ocean of tears.
Calm and bright.
And surrender to the unknown
When I surrender into the portal of loss,
Where do I land?
What brings me to the edge
Is my attachments.
I am unashamed to love what I love.
It is so sweet to feel the pulse of love
Through an embodied, beating heart
All wrapped around in a
Soft, green blanket of life energy,
That sometimes pulses and streams
So strongly it puts me into arrest.
To lose what I love, irrevocably,
Forever, brings such pain
That at times I would rather die
Than endure this grief.
This, too, erupts into my awareness
Through my body.
A searing, roaring, all-devouring
Maelstrom, that reveals the ultimate Truth:
That love and loss are one.
That joy and pain are one.
That life and death are one.
And yet… is loss truly forever?
Once the pain has subsided,
I find what I had lost
Nestled safely inside me –
Integrated or revealed?
Nothing that is real
Is ever truly lost.
What brings me to the edge
Of the portal of loss
Is being true to myself.
What falls away are preconceptions –
Of who I think I should be,
Of who others think I am.
Where I land,
Is where I am.
In truth, without illusion.
I would love to move,
To dance what I sense.
Words become swirling movement and colour.
All I can do is lie on the shore
Where I can feel the trembling
Of the Earth and the water at once.
Picking up the seismic signals
That orient me to myself
And to the organism to which I belong.
Then I know that I am not processing
All this movement alone.
This surrender brings me joy.
Release from the polarities of good and bad
Into simple, raw beauty.
What is this ground I land on made of?
Of summoning and commoning.
Co-owning what we find here.
In my home culture,
Sharing is still practiced:
The community caring for itself.
Landing in this portal
Gives me a new understanding
Of what this co-ownership means.
I am nudged closer to accepting
That this is what we are called to tend now.
What a gift, all those things and beings
That are leaving us now!
Each death is a service to the whole.
By falling away, I create space
For new potential to manifest.
How do we honour what is birthed
Some words are so small
But so potent!
Beautiful words, poetic words
Help bring me to that portal.
The field beyond right-doing and wrong-doing –
Your words bring me there.
Humble words bring that curiosity,
As the candle evokes the sacred space
That helps to bring them in.
What prevents me from entering that portal?
When the pain becomes overwhelming,
I am blocked on the threshold.
How can we still surrender
And get through, to reach
The beauty and the love
On the other side?
I was transported to a place
Familiar from my journey.
During a time of initiation,
Diving into the pool of power
That is Jacob’s Well.
The trepidation of standing on the edge.
Will I hit the edge?
Will I violate the denizens of the pool?
Will I strike Right Timing?
The call came, in the end,
From the conch on the hill.
What fell away as I dived
Was my self.
Released into knowing
That the threshold had been crossed.
That there was no going back.
Echoes of epic release,
A landing as a floating,
Suspended and held
In communion with everything.
I am aware of my listening
From a place that includes
So much more than the words.
Such deep listening is
So much easier when we practice it together.
What is that portal?
I don’t know – and yet, of course, I do!
What is possible in a broader field
That cuts across time and space
The practice of receiving.
More than listening alone.
What makes it possible to receive something new?
Being in this moment,
I long to explore it more and more.
Listening to self
At the same time as learning from others;
There’s a tension in that.
The two meet in this practice
Stepping through the portal of loss,
I discover a vastness I never imagined.
From nothing to everything
In an instant.
Surrendering from clinging to illusions
Into the absolute freedom of
Setting it all free.
All that I love
All that I love
All that I love.
I release you,
To pursue your destiny.
I didn’t understand why
I’ve been crying so much this week.
I guess it’s releasing.
It’s a process, to embrace
I hope you can feel
What I’m trying to say.
The vibration of your sharing
Has echoed in my heart space.
What came through in the silence…
When I surrender to the portal of loss, where do I land?
In memory, in the future,
in the tides of the present,
in the ever-present magic of all that is.
I land in grief, in all the waves
and ways we are being invited to repattern,
at scale, in fractal, together.
It is time and yet, it is unknown.
We have known of this time being immanent,
evident in the mythic realms of prophecy,
of felt sense, of the signs and signals
dialing themselves beyond the norms
of balance, of natural lore.
It is time to recalibrate and yet,
this will require letting go, and loss;
loss of what we held dear, what we loved.
What felt true and real in the times,
and yet no longer serves the way ahead.
It is time. We are here. In the Era Shift.
My lungs are tight, my heart is tender …
I feel the wave-rush,
the ground-rush of the cycles of release,
of heat, as we turn toward the forging ground.
Right now, the energy
Has landed in my pelvis.
The tremors of immanence
And the calmness that arises
In the landing strip
I feel so palpably,
Stretched and pegged
Across all our home places.
Steadying the field.
My talking piece is a community
Of crystals, that embraces us.
It feels like there is something
Besides not knowing and devastation.
A great love
Has been in my awareness.
In no wise detracting from the suffering.
I don’t need to know.
I cannot step into the same river twice.
The chick cannot see
The egg from which it emerged.
We have privilege.
I feel like holding it all,
In my heart, the beauty of this love,
Treading on the fragments
Of the chick’s broken egg.
I hold a triptych: 3 perspectives
On an experience beyond the portal:
First, a community of ants. One falls, others step in.
Continuity in the face of loss.
Second, a headache of a problem solved, in simplicity,
By a shift in seeing.
Third, a ground-hog-day déja vu:
A feeling of arriving
At the beginning again.
A very large portal has opened across the land,
amplified by the uncertainty of where we will land.
It’s as if we are gathered around this fire
where so much is burning away
and gives glimpses of the new.
Anything is possible now
In this space of old paradigms falling away.
Anything is possible now,
As we tend this space
Of ceremonial magic together.
When I surrender into the portal of loss,
There’s a fire, where so much is burning away.
A fire which will take what I offer
That no longer serves.
Where do I land?
Back at the beginning,
As an adventurous child,
In the flow of dance and play.
I’m feeling this a lot
I’m having a hard time with surrender.
Surrendering the future of my children and grandchildren.
Will we ever again hug someone who is not related to us?
Will we ever again attend a wedding or a funeral together?
This is not the future I thought.
This is not the future I was banking on.
Why could I not relate to your questions?
They didn’t emerge from ‘us’,
They were proposed to us.
I’m not there…
But as I listen to your sharings,
I am reminded of my dilemma –
Which is a kind of portal, is it not?
Being in my inner space,
I find calm, expansion, joy.
But then, my old self is returning:
The poking self that cannot
Tolerate the harmony.
Doubting mind – fearing this reality
Might be an illusion.
I keep returning to the pain and grief
Of all those who do not share this reality.
A fall into misery, homelessness, vulnerability,
What will happen to them all?
How to hold my privilege,
When it is so intricately entangled
With their suffering?
How to maintain my presence,
To respond with a next step,
Without taking action
To uselessly hold back the tide?
The joy of gratitude washes through our room –
In Brussels, Gent, Madrid, the people applaud the front-line workers.
With myself, it’s like constant PMT!
Even the men are feeling it!
Compassionate, too, with my own privilege
And how I judge that.
Compassion for all that arises,
Reminiscing with my father,
When my birth was his loss.
Compassion for the grief at our lost dreams.
The shadows creeping into our mind space
Now we have created more room.
Perhaps they are new neighbours to welcome.
A 20-year journey of letting go
Of what I no longer need.
There’s a difference between losing
And letting go.
Contrasting with the anger and sadness
Of loss when I’m not ready to let go.
Surrender is like
The exhilaration of sky-diving.
Who the fuck wants to land?!
May I remember that freedom
In those moments of fearfulness
When I’m reluctant to let go.
These ripples go out so far…
My mother lost her mother
In a flu pandemic,
When she was 7 years old.
I received an unmothered mother.
Collective trauma is arising,
Not only now – other layers are coming.
There are people in danger because they cannot go to ground.
There are people in danger in the space where they are enclosed,
Because it’s not safe to go out.
In a country afraid of silence
Will it face itself?
Like the Japanese post-Fukushima,
We, too, have been saved
From a future we did not want.
Do we have the courage to turn
Towards what must be lost
To find what can be found?
The fifth sacred thing.
You have a seat at the table.
We welcome you.
The portal of the present moment,
Constantly expanding my capacity
To remain in a positive place.
My fears of what might happen,
The news of what is happening,
Apocalyptic vision, repressive control,
No! Just keep expanding
To accept it ALL as part of the whole,
Meeting no resistance, embraced by light.
I land in wonderment at
The material details
As I maintain faith in the thrivability of life.
As the future arrives,
Bringing a vast field of possibility
Beyond our capacity to understand –
Magnetic power: WOW!!
What? No return to wooden ships after all?
The loss is making space for the new.
I have been preparing myself
For these years.
Compassion – so much passion
Remains, as I look into the eyes of death,
Knowing there is new birth,
Fills me with aliveness.
As much excitement as compassion
And sadness in the mix.
Holding it all in the space of practice.
Resilience and re-inventing myself.
Approaching, claiming, accepting,
Exploring who I more truly am.
My grandmother accompanied me
Across the portal.
She has crossed back to me
Since her death.
Understanding her pain,
My peeling is ancestral,
My life is not the same as hers.
Grieving is finding the courage
To let go.
What have we received
From this shared time and space?
Images and words
To shape and name things
That haven’t been named before.
The ever-expanding We.
Of entering the space of ceremony.
In a sacred precinct.
We have reached another level in our practice.
Resonance with what is in this field
So much generative power.
Being together in service of this era shift
Grateful for the invitation to be silent.
Delight that we are going to continue!
The commons as an interior condition.
The physical impact of words.