Resting in the afterglow

Two weeks ago my brother arrived at the cabin, marking a period of action-packed visits. There have been sing a longs, fishing trips, long paddles, camping and plenty of connection time with family and dear friends. Today is the day that the last of the visitors take to the road, leaving behind my love- soaked heart that is filled with quiet gratitude.

This gratefulness is born of the shared moments, the reconnection with old friends, and time spent in what I think is one of the most precious landscapes of the world: the great Boreal Forest. What’s more, this gratefulness also stems from the fact that I was able to maintain my balance throughout all of the coming and going, the to-ing and fro-ing and the noise of people gathering. This is something that I have struggled with for years.

Now- it’s quiet. It’s almost as if a hush has fallen upon the tall pines that stand outside my window. Now- it’s the time for integration or the calm after the storm in which we have the opportunity to reflect on what we have just experienced. It’s through this reflection time that we might fully embrace the rich meaning making that comes from connection, love and time spent with one another as a whole.

Whether it’s from gaining insight and new knowledge through saying both the right and the wrong thing in various conversations, or from feeling seen and unseen in different situations, we have an opportunity to deepen our journey of care-taking, both of ourselves and those we love. This is how we grow and sustain the relationships that help us thrive. Sister Joan Chittister, who was made famous as a featured guest of Oprah Winfrey on “Super Soul Sunday,” about her book, The Time is Now, states that “life is a series of experiences, all of them important, all of them here to be plumbed and squeezed and sucked dry, not for their own sake but so that we may come to know ourselves.” And this experience of connection that I am just coming out of has taught me a lot of things about myself, such as the importance of my need for balance.

It has also taught me that I when I finally do arrive into a place of balance, I almost immediately want to shake things up. This was made especially apparent to me over the past few weeks. In the midst of the busy, I would take myself off quietly for my morning coffee on a nearby rock. More often than not, as I sat listening to the birdsong all around me, feeling the sun on my face, I could feel a pull to get up. It was almost too much joy. Just as the deep peace was settling into my body, I got up to rush back into the fray of people gathering. Equally, in the midst of the visiting, I would feel a longing for those quiet moments. I had to regularly remind myself of my meditation practice. I had to remember to be present to the beauty of both sides of the coin and to take each side in for a few breaths longer.

So as I arrive into this place of integration, I want to stay awhile. I want to rest in the afterglow. I want to soak in all the love and connection that was cultivated over the last two weeks, as well as drink in all of the lessons learned from being together. I want to stay connected to the spaces that I have created for myself, so I can continue to make room for spaces with others. Most of all, I want to be present to the beauty of the peace that comes with the calm after the storm.

As there is no Sanctuary community meditation this week, I invite you to drop down into your own reflective space. What is it like to open up to the quiet that comes after a period of experiencing a busy moment of socialising, creating, learning or just getting things done? What can you notice?

From a mindfulness perspective of knowing what is happening while it is happening, you might like to touch in with how you are feeling emotionally, what’s arising in your mind in terms of thoughts and how your body is. How do you feel about what you notice? Can you really allow whatever is here to be just what it is without needing things to be different? Can you rest in the afterglow? I know I certainly will be.

May you go gently,

-Jane