beach spirituality – Radiance Within

Sunrise

September 3rd, 2022

Even though I’m not a morning person, I get up at 5am to teach a Sunrise Yoga class. My yogi soul can’t resist the idea of performing Sun Salutations at dawn in front of a windowed wall overlooking a lake.

I was glad to have a reason to be up. It must’ve been that way for the medieval nun making her way to chapel for Vigil. The speckles of Orion’s belt twinkle over the neighbor’s roof, and as I back out of the driveway, a thumbnail of moon hovers above the garage. It looks over my shoulder as I drive, and by the time I park, it hangs over the building I have to walk through a patch of trees to reach.

On the gravel path, it’s still the middle of the night. Crickets chirp and frogs croak. Cypress trees and mulched earth fragrance the air like frankincense and candle smoke. Above the buildings the brightest stars and morning planets dot the black sky.

The whole scene disorients my already foggy senses. The sky is usually bright blue and full of puffy white clouds when I walk this way. The contrast is dramatic. It gives me pause and reminds me of the medieval nuns again, waking at all hours of the night to pray. A flash of gratitude warms my heart and eyes.

During the day this place is full of people preoccupied with agendas and meetings and work. At 6am peace and tranquility pervade, and just for this one morning, I’m awake to see and feel it.

It doesn’t matter that by the time I set up the room for class and five minutes, then ten minutes, then fifteen minutes pass and no one shows up. The room and the moment is as beautiful as I imagined it would be.

I drag my mat closer to the wall of windows. The crescent moon hangs on and the first light begins to appear in pink and orange streaks.

I begin. Inhale, arms overhead. Exhale, bow forward. Inhale, lift the head. Exhale, step back. Lower down. Inhale, upward facing dog. Exhale….

Now I understand why those early yogis meditating on the Ganges were compelled to move. One has to do something when one aligns and feels that the earth, the sun, and the moon are moving, when one witnesses and feels so much a part of it.

I stop my practice. If I hurry, I can reach the beach in time.

When I arrive, the water lapping the shore is so warm, I am tempted to wade all the way in, clothes and all. Tips of seaweed poke through the waves. The first ray stretches across the ocean, a gesture that makes it feel like love is what lights the world.

A man walks in front of me. I notice his white goatee and then his smile. “Happy Wednesday!” he says.

I was disappointed that no one showed up for my class. But it doesn’t matter. It’s a new day, and I’m here to see it.

-Radiance Writer

August 24, 2022
Summer Journeys

July 13th, 2021

Summer is a time for taking journeys. It’s a popular time for packing up, hitting the road, and going someplace.

It’s especially joyful to travel in the summer of 2021. A year ago, our freedom to rove, to see family and friends, to have adventures, was severely restricted by the very real threat of contracting or spreading the potentially deadly COVID-19 virus.

While we’re still not out of the woods, many are feeling free to journey, to physically go someplace again.

But for me, summer also means taking time for inner journeys. Living in South Florida, late July means being drawn like a magnet to the blazing sun, dropping everything to go to the beach. Even if it’s just for 15 or 20 minutes, I float on my back in 80 degree turquoise water.

After a shower, then I’m ready. The rest of the afternoon is devoted to going through closets, bookshleves, boxes, and cabinets–cleaning, clearing, reflecting. I encounter who I’ve been, what I’ve forgotten, and what it’s time to let go of.

Some afternoons storms roll in, and instead of the beach, I sit on the front porch. Leaning against the warm adobe of the house, I let the wind blow rain on my face, arms, and legs.

Other afternoons I’m led to another time and place, another life, by a great book. I take siesta. I slow down. And when there’s enough space, I’m able to tell my own story.

Weeding through the people, places, and events, I look for the trails beneath the overgrowth, the lasting marks–the seeds I’ve scattered. The flowers I’ve planted. I remember that I’m an unlimited spiritual being having a limited human experience. I explore the merits of the journey, asses whether or not I’ve grown spiritually.

I go back to the beginning, chart the key destinations, savor the highlights, handle artifacts from pilgrimages. I stand at the back door of where I am and smile at the distances I’ve traveled. I gather memories of peace, connection, contentment, joy. I nod to my mentors, sages, role models, teachers, and sources of inspiration. I savor the friendships, the temples, the homes, the places of worship. I handle the books. Sing songs. Remember old practices.

Grateful for all of it, embarrassed and even ashamed by some of it, I let the feelings come. Sadness. Regret. Longing. Celebration. Weeding out, holding on to the fruits and flowers, I see more clearly where I am. It’s like standing in the ocean at midday. Water is glass and the horizon is forever.

Join me here. Take this inner journey. Reflect. Savor. Fill up your heart with the absolute wonder of you–spirit contained in a human vessel. Accept the gift of time the solstice grants every living being. Your soul has been waiting for it. Radiance illuminates the path all around you. Open up. Enter in.

-July 12, 2021

Sunrise

Summer Journeys