the Presence Point

Note to my readers: I have made a commitment to myself and to you to write a blog article a week. As such, you are receiving my digestion of the changing of the seasons around me. I sit looking out over a meadow bordered by forest. In the distance, a view of far mountains. It is this view that I gaze upon as I write. I invite you to visit, my land and my mind...

After a lush summer of green, autumn rolls around, slowly at first and then picking up pace, racing down the roller coaster of color. As the many different hues begin to wave their languid banners, we are reminded of our own often hidden inner colors. These dormant passions, interests and visions often lie beneath the surface during the time of summer’s green. Their reveal can be shocking in both beauty, and starkness.

It is so easy to get so wrapped up in the speed of life that we forget to take the time to recognize our inner motivation. The deeper colors of our palate represent the hidden possibilities lying dormant within us. When was the last time you reflected on your inner vision? When was the last time you tasted your inspiration? What can you do today to reconnect to a bigger perspective?

Autumn is both a time of activity and reflection. If we allow ourselves to see our deeper feelings, we can begin to appreciate both the banners we’ve waved in the past as well as the unfolding passions for the future. This reflection takes place now, here, in the present moment. Taking time for such reflection allows us to harvest and savor the wisdom from the past so that we can sow seeds of health and sanity for the future.

How does reflection work?

Imagine you are standing at the edge of a meadow, ringed by brilliant flashes of reds and orange, the trees almost on fire before you. You stand there, just taking in the view, becoming familiar with the terrain. Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, it begins to rain. You don’t panic, it is not too cold out yet, and the rain makes the colors even more vivid. Feeling the wet of the rain on your skin is like the process of reflection. Allowing your senses to deepen into the present moment, the vivid colors become even more distinct, and you can almost begin to taste them. You are chewing on your own mind, your experience is direct, real and unfabricated. This is reflection.

Residing this way, in the center of our experience, whether rain is pouring down upon us or not, allows us to tap into our core motivation. As we begin to taste our inspiration again, we begin to trust the ground beneath us. It is okay to feel. In fact, we MUST feel. We must feel what is arising right now. We must taste it and savor it, because this is all there is. This sudden rainstorm, this green meadow, these lush and changing trees, this very body that is experiencing all of it, this is all that we have. Reflecting upon our minds reveals hidden gems.

What arises from reflection and why should we spend time doing it?

Just as suddenly as the rainstorm came on, it moves past and the sun comes out to shine, illuminating the hillside even more brilliantly. What arises from reflection is insight. Pure, simple, radiating insight.  

As we begin to become more familiar with our feelings, our insight, our motivation, we begin to become more comfortable - trusting - of the ground of our experience. The more we trust ourselves, the more we find our innate confidence arising. This confidence is unfabricated and allows us to live solidly, and fluidly, at the center of our experience. We may waiver, the ground may be boggy and we may lose our way, but at the root, we at least know the terrain we are walking through. The clouds will cover the sun, but then the wind will blow the clouds away, again revealing the view.

Once we can taste our feelings, we begin to know our minds more clearly. As this clarity unfolds, we are able to tap into our inspiration again, which will then influence that sometimes perilous dance of choice-making. How we navigate change is so influenced by our inspiration and feelings that when we are aware of the nature of the change itself, we are able to dance fluidly instead of with confusion and pain. Our every action could be influenced by the radiation of insight, instead of fear and panic.

Pain will still arise. The shocking revelations of how we feel still might be painful. The inevitability of change will still bring sadness. The gorgeous autumn leaves will wither and turn brown, raining from the trees. But we will have had that chance to see those leaves before they turned and fell. We will have had the opportunity to reconnect to our hearts, our vision clarifying before us. We will have once again tasted the wisdom in our being, refreshing ourselves for the calm of winter to come.