The name that can be named; is not the eternal name.
The Tao is both named and nameless
As nameless it is the origin of all things;
as named it is the Mother of 10,000 things.
Ever desireless, one can see the mystery;
ever desiring, one sees only the manifestations.
And the mystery itself is the doorway
to all understanding.
This blog began as a dedication to gratitude, the power of the prayer, the witness of daily miracles. I usually draft write, then see what happens in a week to try and communicate truth in whichever way it shows up. This one is about dichotomy.
The introduction of the Tao audibly entered my realm shortly after this first draft, and in revising it, I couldn’t make the comparison between gratitude and the Tao, but knew it was an important share for this month.
I was fortunate enough to join a group of women on the Spring Equinox where we celebrated in communion around yoga, breathwork, vulnerability and the sacred.
The celebration was organized at Valaterra in Oldham County. Road closures on the way in gifted me the chance to retrace backroads I took in high school when we’d bust out around 3:30 to smoke camel lights between school ending and volleyball practice beginning. We drove entirely too fast with wind in our hair and music blaring.
Reminiscing about our limitless offered an opportunity to thank the angels who’ve surrounded me all my life as the opening to that magical day.
The Thursday before that event, I’d had dinner with 2 friends I don’t see on the regular. They often hold massive space for me in these encounters, and I was so grateful for enjoying a meal where I didn’t bring all the drama. Then I lost my phone and spent the last 2 hours of the evening chasing them down to find it, retracing my steps all over Louisville.
Five minutes from home, I started praying out loud in my car around all the things I was grateful for, my health, the health of my family, our car, our home. I was being intentional about switching the vibration of grief from the possibility of having to replace the life that lives in that little black box. After that gratitude prayer, I reached down between my seat and the console to put my hand on my phone.
So many gifts.
A day after the Equinox, I found out that someone I care for very much lost her daughter suddenly. A week later, my husband lost his right hand man at work. Both of these humans were young, died suddenly, and the pain surrounding their loss has been felt deeply.
The woman who led our yoga class on the 20th spoke to the dichotomy of the day, the masculine/feminine aspects of what we experienced together, and I understand that to be where truth lies. In the balance in between.
In writing this today I wanted to share more around the truth of dichotomy, and I find myself telling stories yet again. But here’s a link if you’d like to understand it more through words. It does a nice job from that perspective.
For me, truth lies in the mystery.
Miracles happen every day and sometimes we’re lucky enough to witness them. The practice of gratitude puts us in alignment with the Holy. Death, the natural life-cycle of living, can be so gut wrenchingly sad that it takes our breath away.
Somewhere between right and wrong there is a garden. I will meet you there. - Rumi