Blessing, Beauty, Prayer and Blooming in the Desert
Desert Bloom by Daniel Tuttle on Unsplash
In his book, The Prophet, Kahlil Gibran reminds us that we can't be taught things we already know. "No man can reveal to you," he states, "that which already lies half asleep in the dawning of your knowledge."
But nature and life itself will.
Our journey as humans is to awaken to the knowledge, our inner genius, that connects us directly to our Source. This journey is different for everyone and some do not want what is revealed. (I do not fall into that category.) My thirst to be fully awake and to stay awake has propelled me throughout this lifetime.
Recently, I came across Gregg Braden's book, Secrets of the Lost Mode of Prayer, archived in my computer where my digital books live. I didn't know how much I needed to reread his words and how prescient they would be as I find myself back in the desert southwest.
The high desert is a fascinating climate. One that seems to marry with the teachings of Zen Buddhism, the contemplative life and the hermetic approach to detachment. It affects everything you are and the impact is immediate, while the inner-standing takes precious sweet time.
All at once the sky appears endless and the horizons appear carved from another world.
Clouds roll in formations that awaken awe and wonder.
The high altitude coaxes my lungs to redefine my breathing and perhaps not undervalue it.
My first few days here brought on altitude sickness as I struggled with fatigue, headaches and blurred vision. I recommitted to my devotion to oxygen as the most vital element needed to remain on this blessed planet, and the breath of life being the most precious experience. I have thanked my lungs repeatedly.
This time around, two years later, it feels as though I have come to the desert to dry out.
To be squeezed out from the density of all that has been waterlogged within my system.
A draining of the emotional waters that threatened to drown me while also dismantling the last vestiges of old thought forms and behavioral patterns that were dredged up along with the 100 year flood in Western North Carolina in September 2024.
It was all in perfect timing and in accordance with my soul's curriculum, a Ph.D. of sorts.
I'm still disseminating the information that I have been gathering and while my lungs are pumping somewhat harder at 8,000 feet, the vistas and vantage points offer a new perspective.
Alongside these musings, is the deeper question of "how do we survive life's hurts?"
This blessed life is so fragile and yet there is a glorious awe in being able to experience the sheer magnitude of emotional depth afforded to us in this astonishing human technology.
In order to survive the arduous journey of the last year's adjustments, losses, shifts and shocks, I immersed myself into the world of books, a place that has always brought me great comfort. My local library has been a haven and a source of solace and connection as I plow through fantasy series after series. The world building has been spectacularly reaffirming for my overactive imagination. The characters are magical, real and represent an impossible standard for physical beauty, yet they wield their inner powers and learn through the trials and tribulations of carrying the burden of having power. I’ve always identified with superhero stories and the very real dance between the ordinary and extraordinary. Perhaps my perspective is different from most because I also believe that humans are very capable of harnessing these same gifts and bringing them to light. What if we are all awaiting the moment when our superpowers come online? What if that process is the gift of our unbecoming and the hope that awaits our evolved consciousness as we step into uncharted territory? In the last year, one of the ways I’ve survived the hurts was to dream and imagine. However, it was only a part.
I digress from my main focus which takes me from the fantasy of a supernatural world to the mystical and fantastical world of the desert and the indigenous teachings that are imbued in the very land, pulsing through hot stone and whispered among juniper and ponderosa pine.
Through the teachings of the Navajo, we learn that we must harness the power of our inner pain to endure the conditions of the outer world. In addition, we must embody in our lives that which we want to experience in the world. The shamanic teaching of "as within so without, as above so below" is a guidepost for our human life so that we can experience the very essence of a soul-filled existence. But how do we do this? How do we access the very blueprint of our soul that is untarnished? How do we read the coding that has been hidden from us under the conditioning of a world that has convinced us of so many untruths? How do we, in reality, survive life's hurts? Even in our most stable and centered places, we can still feel the impact of profound hurt that has a lasting effect and can often destabilize us and become a catalyst for growth and expansion if we allow it to happen.
In a world that seeks to numb the pain rather than face what is at the root of it and heal it there, we have been conditioned to run from that which hurts us and ignore the very real signs that our physical vessel gives us to alert us to discord within.
The byproduct of this form of ignorance is illness, discontent and an undercurrent of chaotic energy. Our world mirrors us and shows us exactly what is in need of repair and restructuring; however, when humans are not embodied, they are not in "touch" with the pulse of the world, and the soul of the world suffers tremendously.
Nobody ever said that living on this marvelous planet was going to be easy, yet we are capable of uncovering our strengths through the experience of our sufferings and weaknesses. It seems counter-intuitive when we require ourselves to always be strong and often revert back to this when we are experiencing painful growth spurts. We want to escape and "fix" what hurts right away without giving the due diligence to the pain itself and listening deeply to what we are being offered. Rather than seeing the world through a narrow lens, we can adopt a perspective that "wisdom" and "hurt" are two extremes of the same experience. Braden writes: "They are the beginning and end of the same cycle. Hurt is our initial feeling, our gut response to loss, disappointment, or the news of something that shocks our emotions. Wisdom is the healed expression of our hurt. We change hurt into wisdom by finding new meaning in painful experiences. Blessing, beauty, and prayer are the tools for our change." p.11
I find I receive great solace in these words. I, too, know the impact of hurt and endeavor to carve out enough space within the fracture to drop deeper into the wisdom I can garner from it. I, too, know that not everyone wants to move past hurt, to get to know it intimately. I know that it is within me to seek out the blessing and beauty of the world and to live my life as though I, myself, am a moving prayer.
My relationship with prayer has also shapeshifted throughout my life. I was raised steeped in prayers that were memorized and recited, often times using words that were bigger than I could understand and without an understanding of their essence. I spoke the words with a sense of devotion but without agency of what I truly wanted to say.
It was in the quiet moments when I was alone or in the forest that I began to speak from my heart, having direct conversations with the Divine that felt meaningful and personal. As I have grown and have had a myriad of experiences with other cultures and their devotional practices, I recognized that there is no "formula" or one way to do anything. The gift of our lives is the endless possibilities that we are afforded and the free will choice to expand and create.
For me, prayer came to be more than words, it was movement, it was stillness, it was poetry, it was conversation, it was meditation, it was the feeling of my emotions and the expression of them in whatever way felt pure to me in the moment. In some ways, it became my superpower. And while it wasn't something that would be celebrated by others, or even made known to them, it was a tether between the ordinary and extraordinary, the sacred and the mundane. When I released the clinging to an outcome and the constant asking for what I perceived I was lacking, I was provided for, often in mysterious yet direct ways. Prayer became a means for expression and a stabilizing force that grounded me back into the one truth that surrounds us at all times: we do not know anything.
It makes sense that the outer world is in a deconstruction phase when it is an expression of who we are and how we are participating in and with life. Many are coming to question what they had previously took as fact. This cognitive disruption can shake identity to its core, perhaps to finally reveal the core of who we are.
This brings me back to the questions of how do we survive life's hurts and how do we access our blueprint and read our true coding? I believe the most important component of this is to set the intention that this is what we want to do, this is what we are opening ourselves to receiving information about. By saying yes to our authenticity, we become unattractive to anything and everything that is not in alignment with this.
It may take some work, (it will) some reassessment, (it will) some falling apart before we come back together, (it will) but what we leave behind is essential compost for the garden of our souls. Even in the desert there is water. Even in the desert, a flower will bloom. Satiating the soul becomes our discipline through whatever means possible. Through servicing our souls, we become more available to being in service to Life itself.
Throughout my work with thousands of people, I have come to some conclusions that have yet to be proven false:
1) Humans want to be loved.
2) Humans experience trials, pain and suffering to encourage growth.
3) Nobody is immune to suffering.
4) There is magic and wonder within every human.
5) Nobody knows what they are doing.
6) We need each other.
7) Compassion and Joy are the antidote to fear.
And so while I may not have concrete answers to these questions, I do know that it is possible to live our way into our answers (thank you Rilke) and there will be as many answers as there are souls on this planet.
We are all doing the impossible as walking miracles. We are the fantasy characters coming to life in a world steeped in beauty and blessings alongside the suffering and pain.
I leave you with a gift of a prayer to light your way.
A Prayer for a Walking Miracle
As we awaken ever more deeply to this new world, may we each honor the journey that brought us here.
May we hold, with gentle hands, our past hurts and those who catalyzed this growth without becoming beholden to the experiences.
May we lay down our weapons of self-sabotage and mistaken motivations in our relating and clear space to breathe fresh oxygen into the spaces we neglected.
May we stand inside the desert of our hearts and invite water to nourish the seedlings of our newness.
May we endeavor to witness the beauty and blessing of life itself and may we establish a new relationship with sacred communion.
May we enter life as a prayer and stay grounded in the ever-expanding mystery of the unknown.
May we recommit to the miracle that we are.