The Lakota greeting ‘Mitakuye Oyasin’, translated to ‘all my relations’ suggests that everything in the universe, human and otherwise is connected.
Quantum Physics suggests that we are made of the same elements as every other piece of the universe.
Rumi in his famous poem “The Guesthouse” suggests that we would greatly benefit from imagining feelings and emotional states that we become aware of as ‘guests’ who come to deliver an important message to us.
I was considering all of that yesterday when sitting with a client at my office (a big flat stone at the base of a waterfall, which is a part of a 1,600-acre farm in middle Tennessee that I have been given permission to use). I asked myself, what if every ‘thing’ I became aware of was a ‘visitor’. A ‘visitor’ coming to tell me something, teach me something, caution me about something, remind me of something. At the end of our time together, I reflected on the ‘messengers’ and ‘messages’ I had experienced that day.
The sun reflecting off the pool under the waterfall sending sparkling lights on what I call the wailing wall, reminds me of unfallen tears.
The stillness in the air reminds me that ‘not doing’, brings clarity.
The gentle breeze now stirring the smoke from the campfire, reminds me that motion is nature.
The tears shared and prayers spoken to those we have lost, reminds me of what is to come.
The birth of another spring reminds me that death brings life.
The unconditional radiant warmth of the sun on my neck, reminds me of my place in the universe.
Precious stories of childhoods lost and found, remind me of how I am connected to you.
Tireless protectors of one precious soul, reminds me of the ferocity to live.
The deer scampering away as I pass by, reminds me of the fragility of life.
The buzzards circling over my head, remind me to do it now, say it now, be it now, and if I have already done it, do it again.
The sacredness of this space that allows the known to be spoken, reminds me of the gift of quiet.
The surprise visit of those unknown and unspoken knowns reminds me of the great mystery constantly revealing itself.
The reminder that there is no part of us that bears us ill will reminds me of the generosity of creation.
The design of the pen that allows me to put these thoughts to page and the miracle of an object that was created to catch these jots and tittles, reminds me of the gift of being a child of these times.
All of these messengers bringing me gifts, all in the same day, one day, of many, as I visit a farm in the woods.
I wonder what your ‘visitors’ would be telling you today?
I am drawn to the thought of how much richer my life would be, if I were to notice every day this way.