WE GROW GOD

From current Contemplative Christian Mystics:

	Deep knowing and presence do not happen with our thinking minds. To truly know something, our whole being must be open, awake, and present. —Richard Rohr   When Christianity is in any way anti-body, it is not authentic Christianity. The incarnation tells us that body and spirit must fully operate and be respected as one. —Richard Rohr of Center for Action and Contemplation Ours is a God who sneezed and rubbed His eyes when He was sleepy. Ours is a God who knew longing, heartbreak, excitement, frustration—the full range of what it means to be human. A God who knows what it means to live in a body. —Kate Bowler   The soul is not simply within the body, hidden somewhere within its recesses. The truth is rather the converse. Your body is in the soul, and the soul suffuses you completely. —John O’Donohue  The chasm between the spiritual and the physical is no greater than that between a thought and a word. They cannot be disconnected. And it is difficult to tell where one ends and the other begins, perhaps because there is no such place. —Cole Arthur Riley  In terms of the spiritual journey, trying to find faith with the intellectual center is something like trying to play a violin with a saw: it’s simply the wrong tool for the job. This is one reason why all religious traditions have universally insisted that religious life cannot be done with the mind alone; that is the biggest single impediment to spiritual becoming. —Cynthia Bourgeault
	From two dancer, choreographers who live in Spirit and not Religion: When you dance, you can’t hide who you really are. ~ Paul Sanasardo of the Paul Sanasardo Modern Dance Company Imperfectly we grow God in every living step we take. Heaven and Earth is about Love not perfection. Living is Love realizing itself. Living is Prayer. ~ Sydney Lynn Haupert-Noble-Lok who danced for Paul Sanasardo from 1971-1972.

Put on some relaxing flute music:

Sit comfortably in a chair or in lotus position or modified version of it. Sway from side to side and notice how your shoulders, torso, neck and head follow a Source Meridian movement, well known by your body. Every time you walk your hips sway this figure eight, this Golden Bow which balances all opposites. Sway from side to side noticing how you witness these golden loopings with your breath. Breathe in the voluptuous air molecules, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Release any mis-ease as it comes up from within your body. Relax into these gentle loopings noticing how you loop through Source Heart then loop into Creation as you sway from side to side. As you breathe, notice how you are the unifying factor. You are God’s Unifier, aligning Creation with Source Love. Feel your muscles stretch and lengthen. Feel how your breath becomes supple as your lungs expand and contract. The gentle flute music opens your lungs, opens your heart and opens your mind to the ambrosia of your breath which holds all mystery.

Do you hear chirping birds in the flute music? Are they singing to you of sinking into your hips as you exhale, then rising up into your chest, neck and head on the inhale. Follow this vertical figure eight, exhaling as you sink into your hips, releasing all negativity lodged in your body and mind into the recycling arms of Earth Mother, then inhaling the song of your soul as it lifts you into your chest, neck and head. Repeat for as long as it moves you to. When you are ready move the horizontal figure eight, followed by the vertical figure eight, alternating these movements for as long as it moves you to. You are etching the Cross of the Cosmic Christ. These two movements anchor and activate your Higher Self or Oversoul within the Big Heart Chakra which encapsulates the Sacral, Womb Chakra, the Soular Plexus Chakra and the Heart Chakra. Feel your Higher Self nestle into your body finally able to offer guidance that you can absorb easily. 

Now, breathing in, sink into the cave of your kundalini spine. Etch the backwards loop of the infinite figure-eight. Breathing out, push your torso forward into the forwards loop of the infinite figure-eight. Repeat this undulating backwards/forwards looping of the torso as long as it moves you to. Hear Source whisper, “As it is in Spirit, so it is in Flesh, Flesh without Fear”.

Now, alternate all three movements consecutively flowing seamlessly from one direction to the next. Relax, flowing slowly, allowing each figure-eight movement to slide and glide into the next.  The Golden Bow Movement Meditations open the door to 369 degree Consciousness, the reality where Spirit is realized fully in flesh: Heaven on Earth. 

***I can be reached at sydneylynnlok@gmail.com for any questions you may have.

Now, center yourself in stillness. You sit on the still fulcrum of the Teeter-Totter of Duality. Breathing gently, know that you hold within you Source God, Source Love. Know also, that Source Love holds you gently nestled within Itself like a Russian nesting doll.  Let your breath bring together your Heart, Your Mind, and your body as One.

Namaste.

Wahatoya, Breasts of the World

Do you see the Golden Bow pulsing from within the twin peaks of Wahatoya?

Note: An ancient culture that embraced the Golden Bow lived along the Eastern Coast of what is known today as China. One of the monks of that time I met in his parallel life as a dancer for Paul Sanasardo and choreographer for his own company, The Manuel Alum Dance Company. He was a man of few words so when he did speak, each phrase formed a simple yet profound concept. He taught me that life energy was most potent and powerful when movement was offered in subtle doses. The Pulse of Life Energy is gentle yet nothing is as powerful. Manuel bid farewell to his incarnation in his 50’s from Aids.

 

The Jail Door of Perfection cracks open to a golden light

lit by candle lamps holding pink and purple blooms

sitting precariously on the tilt of tree stump coffee tables

with their life rings of experience rippling out.

Precarious laughter held so tightly finally spills on my lap

staining it and I am still alive

unpunished for my display, this eruption of glee

arising from my throat.

 

I didn’t know this room existed.

How did I escape? 

How did I splatter onto these walls as pink and purple waves

splashing onto beige couches with plump, billowing pillows.

 

A dancer on stage whose shoulder strap breaks

as she quakes the stage floor with her frail strength,

a breast is exposed.

She flits away as if nothing happened.

Girls and women do that, you know.

 

Maybe making mistakes is how you grow and learn

to love yourself and others,

if you are not punished and derailed for them.

Could Source be growing and learning

from our mistakes, our tumbles and stumbles,

our messy imperfection?

Maybe, imperfection is perfection.

Could Heaven be right here on Earth, my grand daughter

gripping a tantrum of sand in her tiny hands?

I seep through into the room already softening like syrup.

Streaming onto the couch, sinking into the comfort,

I relax into this cloud of imperfection.

Jelly fingerprints from toddlers crumble the walls.

Crumbs from questioning child minds clutter the carpet.

Souls emerge like fingerprints from the stains.

 

This space lives and breathes and balances when I hold my breath.

I breathe out perfectly messy expressions and gestures.

We are just quirky souls moving quirky bodies through quirky space. 

 

Then time dissolves when Source embraces the wrong turn into oncoming traffic.

The Light and the Shadows are ok here.

There is nothing wrong here in this living room.

I look back without turning my head

at what was once the iron bars

of the Jail House of Perfection.

Was Perfection just a virus that overtook a Universe

and then disappeared when we weren’t looking?

by John Roedel: (God, I love this dude!)

this isn’t how I planned for

my life to look like,” I whispered

under my breath as I walked to my car

“tell me about it,”

an eavesdropping cloud

replied to me from above

I looked up and watched

the cloud billow between looking

like a dove and an open hand

the cloud continued:

“I used to be a snowfield in Montana.

I used to be a dewdrop kiss on a lily.

I used to be a puddle in a parking lot.

I used to be a river in Mexico.

I used to be a glacier.

I used to be a waterfall mist in a jungle.

I used to be so many things.”

“doesn’t that make you sad?” I asked the cloud

“it used to – but not anymore,” the cloud replied while wrapping herself around me like a scarf. “I don’t think either of us were created to stay the same form our entire life.”

“I’m not sure I can let go of my old life,” I sighed.

“oh you simply must,” the cloud whispered in my ear.

” because once you release what you used to be

and embrace who you are meant to be now –

something amazing will happen,” the cloud said

“what’s that?” I asked while looking at my hands that were beginning to billow and shapeshift.

“you’ll start to float.”

and with that my feet lifted off the ground

~ john roedel

Photo by Fran Kie

“Basically I think the purpose of Life is to remember its origin in Love”  ~Sean Reagan~

Sometimes illness, disabilities and injuries are your

angels of healing.

Whether or not you recover from them or go

into remission is inconsequential.

They can open up the givers and savers to

being able to receive care and love.

They can close down the takers from

harming others and themselves.

They can simply make you grateful for

every breath you take, slowing you down to

sniff the flower of your very existence.

Beware the spiritual healers with fancy gadgets

and expensive protocols that are so common

on the internet these days.

The healing is within you.

 

Breathe in Source Light and Love from your heart.

As you breathe out, kiss the world with this Love,

with this Light.

 

First,

be kind to yourself.

Only then will you find kindness in the world.

 

 

 

I am dancing with my partner and my partner is Source Light.

by John Roedel

(I wrote this for you & me)

I fell through a hole in

a church pew yesterday

and landed right

in the thick amber

field of a piece of

stained glass

I asked a red saint

who was stargazing

“why must I suffer?”

without looking

at me

he said

“to know God.”

I didn’t like

that answer

so

I crawled through

a mist of royal triangles

and swam across a sea of ovals

and scaled a pointed cusp

until I found a glowing sinner

and I asked her the

same question

“why must I suffer?”

she placed her

green hand on my

purple cheek

and sung

“Because a broken heart

is easier to share.”

suddenly

my hands became

turquoise doves

and my lips became

yellow vines

and my feet became

fat red rubies

and I became radiant

painted glass of the divine

and I became

reflected light

and everything

I touched glowed

and now my broken

illuminated heart

colors the walls

of every room I walk into

~ john roedel

by Becky Hemsley

She sat at the back and they said she was shy,

She led from the front and they hated her pride,

They asked her advice and then questioned her guidance,

They branded her loud, then were shocked by her silence,

When she shared no ambition they said it was sad,

So she told them her dreams and they said she was mad,

They told her they’d listen, then covered their ears,

And gave her a hug while they laughed at her fears,

And she listened to all of it thinking she should,

Be the girl they told her to be best as she could,

But one day she asked what was best for herself,

Instead of trying to please everyone else,

So she walked to the forest and stood with the trees,

She heard the wind whisper and dance with the leaves,

She spoke to the willow, the elm and the pine,

And she told them what she’d been told time after time,

She told them she felt she was never enough,

She was either too little or far far too much,

Too loud or too quiet, too fierce or too weak,

Too wise or too foolish, too bold or too meek,

Then she found a small clearing surrounded by firs,

And she stopped…and she heard what the trees said to her,

And she sat there for hours not wanting to leave,

For the forest said nothing, it just let her breathe.

By: Becky Hemsley

bubbles out of its sub-atomic origins

emerging out of the caverns of the formless

and sits there humming and thumping my form from its lips

the form of my soul piles up in layers around me,

like children crawling

fingers, hands and feet on top of me,

all this within the great big ball of you

they never tire of this

growing of my soul

as I disappear beneath the leaves

of their tiny, sweet

little brushstrokes so green

One Heart

you are breaking out through a door

  pulsing between my shoulder blades

It feels like your lips are poised between them

blowing up my heart bigger and bigger

will I burst?

does that even matter?

there is laughter on the lips of children

their eyes swirl in circles

darting and swerving

like silverfish around me

are they forming my soul?

how can I float so weightless inside your Body?

as I let you blow me up and

toss me into the wind