Invite. Observe the ecstatic moments that occur in your body throughout life, taking note of the details, and without discriminating against their form–welcome in these customized pleasure wavelengths as they are, and pursue them. Be pulled by what gives your spine, your feet, your wrists, your ears The Surge of Delight.
Call upon the names given to what makes you feel a flight in your chest–no tiny offering of joy taken for granted–they all play a role. Refer to your muses, the songs that have moved you, the stars that speak to you in the sky, your favorite chords, ingredients, chapters, psalms. Find comfort in the melodies of your sirens, the messages of your most treasured passages, your beloved monks, prophets, the villains you defend, your many teachers in the form of hymn, poem, story, painting, dance.
Attend Your Ceremonies, and tend to a temple made entirely of your own design–walls of valley, a seat by a window, a rock beside a creek, the bench of a train station, the base of a mountain, the throne of a hilltop, the heated gray cement slab in the courtyard of the company you work for, the green silk given to you by your mother on your 8th birthday, laid beside your bed. Whether church or palace, parking lot or basement, all praises are felt the same. All Places Are Holy Places. Create an alter out of the pieces of the world you’re drawn to–a 4 of spades card you found on the sidewalk, a feather, something to burn. Let there be a representation for the water, the earth, the wind and the fire inherent within, as much as without.
Recite the love letters you hear in your mind when you close your eyes; the words and phrases that bring you blankets of protection; the symbols that seem familiar, whether they were taught or created, or both. Recognize the sensation of familiar ancient comfort–allow them to wisp you into yourself, and out. Repeat their verses, and resound the proverbs that bind themselves to you. Chant them into form while you dance and while you stumble, before and during dreaming, while burning the toast. Turn your many prayers into songs, and sing out the passenger window while washing the dishes, as you rock your daughter to sleep, turn sand into glass, clay into brick, flower to seed.
Bow your head to the origins of any and every triumphant practice, movement, motion, task, and ritual that has moved you–anything that has even for a moment stirred your soul in a profound way. Do this and know: you are bowing to the same Creator as we all are. We Are All Sacred. Cultivate a routine that incorporates a daily honoring of the ones who have come before. Give gratitude for the tools they’ve passed on, the clues they’ve left behind. Abandon any declaration of separateness, and surrender to the call of the invisible thread binding us all.
Write the words of your Holy Text with your hands, your hips, the symbols formed by your spine as it braids itself through existence–electric and ancient. Know that to speak it is to write it, and to write it, to speak it. Develop a keen awareness of the word choices you are making, the words you are noticing around you, the phrases you are repeating, the topics you give energy and time to with your words. We write our own stories into existence by way of the words we choose, the words we allow to slip off of our tongues.
Tune into the signals coming to you from inside of yourself, and let those voices which are closest to your heart be the ones you filter your incoming messages through. The Voice That Knows what is best medicine for your spirit, the Mother and Father Guardians we have a direct line to. The antennas of the centipede that is your spine are alive and well. Use them.
We are all traced back to The Mother of All Mothers and All of Us Are Holy. –Let Us Remember