Riding on the back of a motorcycle requires a lot of trust. Especially when it’s windy. It requires leaning into the wind, breathing, and letting go of knowing where you’re going. The driver sees the way ahead. The passenger must keep her center, be completely in tune with the dynamics of weight and balance, and just ride.
What do you do when things begin to move very quickly in the story of your dream life? You know you’ve been planning for moments like these your whole life, but you still don’t know what’s going to happen. So, you rely on your training, your practice, and your ability to respond to what arises along the way.
I am there now, one of those moments in life where I can feel the speed. Required to be a cooperative component, to be completely present, I feel my center so clearly, almost in a heightened state of awareness, with only a partial view of what’s in front of me. I see that I am doing quite well being attentive and trusting in my capacity to meet what arises. Things are moving quickly now, and I recognize that I’m ready for it by my resounding “Yes!”
It’s amazing that I’ve had to train to be so free of resistance. And it’s a continual practice. Just as the visceral experience that happens in my gut when I’m number two on the bike, each point of resistance I meet becomes a gift to alchemize all the things that could have tripped me up, had I not maintained center and focus.
Shaping and honing my skills, I continue learning to perform with ease and grace, emptying my container to receive the gift of the moment. And beyond being on a literal stage, there is a broader sense of waking up and performing in daily life. There is a conscious drawing on the guidance and wisdom of that small voice that emerges from my heart, a voice that has always been with me.
I’ve been reminded of that voice this spring growing starters for my garden, watching them cultivate strength as they learn to push through the soil and stand on their own.
Years ago my mom gifted me with Julia Cameron’s book, The Artists Way. Somewhere in the multitude of gems outlined in those pages, she references a quote: “Every blade of grass has a little angel leaning over it whispering ‘grow, grow.’ “
There have been many angels who have whispered to me that very sentiment. No matter in what trappings the voice has dressed itself, I look back on my life and realize that it has been there with cadence and persistence. And today, I am deeply grateful for all those who came before me and all those who surround me. Today, this is my reminder, my surrender in the presence of the divine.