It’s funny how we can see things for other people and miss the obvious in ourselves. When my shoulder didn't seem to be healing up as usual, I eventually began to wonder if I wasn't being offered a chance to look at an old life pattern in a new way. Duh!, as Homer Simpson would say. So I went into meditation and thought about my original shoulder injury.
A friend had recently celebrated her 70th birthday and posed this question: what is your best memory? Lots of memories flashed through my mind. What finally settled was the moment right after my son was born. I remembered looking into his clear eyes and feeling the birthing room with its beeping machines and busy nurses drop away. I knew this person and he knew me. And while I didn’t realize it until nearly twenty years later sitting in my friend’s living room, that moment of bone-deep recognition has helped to sustain me through the ups and downs of mothering a strong, independent child.
It was a beautiful Colorado day, but I was in a funk, doubting myself and wondering if I was on track with my life. To clear my mind, I hopped on my bicycle and headed for the Poudre trail. As my legs warmed up, I asked spirit for a sign, any sign, that I was doing OK and that all was truly well. I didn’t ask out of desperation, but simply put in a request that I could use a little support.
