Love, Hope and Warm Loneliness #BostonMarathon

I hold my face in my two hands.  
No, I am not crying.
I hold my face in my two hands  
to keep the loneliness warm -  
two hands protecting,  
two hands nourishing,  
two hands preventing
my soul from leaving me  
in anger.

Thich Nhat Hanh



On Saturday I went to a kirtan festival which, despite an underlying sadness after the loss of Shyamdas in January, was incredibly uplifting. My heart was open with joy and love. I was on a blissed-out Bhakti high. I was going to write all about it.

Nope. Four months ago my planned post was preempted by senseless tragedy. And here I am again.

The Boston Marathon began this morning just as I started teaching a yoga class. It ended abruptly minutes after I finished my last class for the day. Since my own marathon training begins in a few weeks, I was eager for race updates and, therefore, I got news of the bombings almost instantly.

I wasn't there. What I knew of people who were there came from 140-character snippets. But this felt personal. I was angry, I was sad, and I couldn't believe this had happened during the sanctity of the Boston Marathon.

Amateur runners and triathletes make up a diverse but incredibly benevolent clan. Immediately my twitter and Facebook feeds were overrun with people who felt just like I did. While the citizens of Boston took care of the runners and each other, the rest of the running community banded together in cyberspace.

As news reached me I saw, despite underlying sadness, an amazing outpouring of love. I watched footage of acts of bravery and kindness. I heard reports of people opening their homes to runners who could no longer get to their hotels, offering food, bathrooms and even lodging. I read that some runners who had finished the race went to the nearest hospital to donate blood. And those I follow retweeted and shared important information as well as countless "I'm ok" messages. I am again uplifted.

My heart is open with love and the joy of being part of humanity. In the banding together after tragedy I see the hints of the awakening we were promised at the end of 2012. There is suffering and horror but there is also compassion and hope.

I am still sad, but not angry. And I am no longer afraid. And until the day we realize we are all one, I'll keep the loneliness warm.

On the Winter Solstice 2012

In the dark waiting womb
there is a quiet rhythm,
the sound of intention unmanifest.
It will become with a wail.

To call the first tendril of pink
from beyond the horizon,
a feathered minstrel lifts its head
and trills its morning anthem.

Do not sit silent in the growing darkness.
The universe was not born in a flash but a bang,
the resonance of the heart of the Divine,
speaking its name into all of creation.

Invite the sun with song,
be it frenzied drumbeats,
melodious carols, quiet lullabies
or the echoing sound of om.

All songs are one song,
as all hearts are one heart.
Sing your Divine name
into the creation of a new age.

And when, in the deepest darkness,
your song fades to stillness,
a collective pause for breath,
listen. Listen for the waiting refrain.

Listen for the muted pulse of love.
Listen for the hushed jingle of peace.
Then take up their song, your song,
and roar them into being.

(c) Debbie Philp 2012

As we step over the threshold from autumn to winter, from darkness to light, from violence and hatred into the blank slate of a new day, I wish you peace and love. Sing their song with all of your heart. Pass it on.

Facing fears...and giving gifts

I don't like myself.  I'm crazy about myself."

~Mae West

Thanks to some fear-facing inspiration from Shannon and the participants of Inside Out, I took a big, deep breath and recorded my first podcast yoga class.  This fulfills a promise I made to some of my "summer" yoga students who headed to warm southern states when the leaves started to turn.  It sounded like a good idea at the time, but when faced with the reality of speaking into a microphone for an hour and having my every imperfection recorded and broadcast to the internet, I was scared.  The fear kept me procrastinating for months.  Today I broke through that fear, put my trust in the creative process and, after six hours of learning to use the recording software and site uploading stuff, the first podcast is done. 

In the spirit of Valentine's Day and everything I've learned in the e-course, this yoga class is all about opening your heart to love yourself.  It's my gift to you.  You can listen here, or on my podbean site.  Enjoy!

Podcast Powered By Podbean

It wasn't easy to get to the point where I feel I have something valuable to share with the world.  This morning, as I battled the last of the feelings of self-doubt before clicking the "record" button, this song came to mind.  I saw Paula Cole perform this song at Lilith Fair in 1996 (yes, I'm that old) and it's one that I need to listen to every now and then.  One more gift of self-love for you.  And the yoga-minded will appreciate the chakra journey in the video.

Paula Cole - Me (Official Music Video). Watch more top selected videos about: Paula Cole