Divine
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Divine
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By now most of you have come to recognize me as a connoisseur of the small, simple pleasures.
No rowdy, raucous adventures for me. It’s very likely you’re NOT going to read about my bungee jumping exploits, or my climbs up Mt. Everest, or how I survived the Baja. Small and simple is plenty for a person like me. And from what I hear from so many of you sensitives, empaths and introverts, the small and simple pleasures are indeed, what many of us enjoy the most. So it was with a frisson of thrill that on a recent winter's bike ride at Minto Brown, an 800-acre wildlife reserve near my home, that I pushed past the cautionary sign “High Water. Road Closed” and biked on. Of course the Universe is always sending us signs. But from experience, I knew that this was not one of them. The "High Water" sign goes up like clockwork every fall, when the river along the park starts to rise. And it's true: there are days when the lower paths will be submerged in several feet of water. But other days, instead of a submerged path, you'll come across nothing more than a big puddle just an inch or two deep—certainly, something a person on a bike can handle. Today especially... that puddle was two inches, three tops! Everything was going great as I coasted through nice and easy, until suddenly those three inches turned out to be 12, and my frisson of thrill turned to panic and of course the bike slid and I plunged my left foot down deep in the, and then my right foot followed and within seconds I was mired to my knees. I wasn’t upset. In fact… I was exhilarated. Something about that surprising muddy moment woke me up. I took it all in: the pale sky, the fields, my squelching shoes. “Now it’s getting interesting,” I shouted, as we pressed on through more puddles toward the river. When we reached the bend, I finally understood the reason we'd snuck past the sign in the first place: a gigantic American Bald Eagle, so close we could see the white of his head and his tail, swooping in the air currents above. Glorious. Even in very muddy shoes. Much love, SARA P.S. Will you be a part of The 33 Lessons? Some of you know I read surfer magazines.
I love them, because they’re all about the hero’s quest: the surfer as seeker, traveling all over the world in search of the perfect wave; the surfer’s experience with the wave itself, and the immense humility that every surfer reach at some point in his or her life: the understanding that there is no room for ego, because the ocean in charge. The ocean. The waves. All creatures of the sea. And this most curious phenomenon of all, the phenomenon of schooling fish, which is when all the fish swim together one way, and then suddenly begin to swimming together another way, all at once. All at once. All together. Over and over again. Perfectly attuned to each other. Acting as One. Psychic Migration is a name of a popular surf movie, and I guess that sums it up. It’s what happens when we all move together, because we are all in tune with each other. “Hey, guy… let’s go this way”. “Okay, great” “Me too.” “Right with you, guys”. “Here I come!” The thing is, we’re always in tune with each other. As humans, as animals, as beings on this planet, as Souls in the Universe. There’s no time we’re not deeply affecting each other, following each other, leading each other, being a part of each other’s lives, feeling each other’s feelings, living life on multidimensions, past and present and future all the same big ocean of Now. We’re always in psychic migration. Much love, SARA P.S. Be a part of The 33 Lessons! Ordinary Time
The Catholics have two periods of time in their calendar called “ordinary time”: two periods in the year when there is no feasting and no penance. It’s the time of everyday life, ordinary stuff: no big highs, no big lows. If you’re Catholic, you started ordinary time today yesterday. If you’re not Catholic, or not Catholic anymore,, it’s likely that after all the holdays we've just finished, your life also suddenly seeming more ordinary. We’re back in the groove, although f you’re paying attention, you will notice that the groove we're in now is not the same groove we were in before. These past few months have opened us up, helped us learn, given us experiences that have altered us completely, given us ways to identify what we care about and what is important to us as a whole . Right now, these changes are subtle, like tiny flowers just beginning to open. Ordinary time is a useful time to relax, get back to routine again, and in this very simple way of living life—of taking care of all the things and people you need to take care of—we are integration what we have learned. Not in the intensive integration of working at it. But in the softer integration of letting it all move through you, as you inhabit your life in an everyday kind of way. There is nothing ordinary about this time, or about you. Much love, SARA P.S. Are you going to be part of The 33 Lessons? |
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May 2024
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About Sara
Sara Wiseman is an intuitive, channel and spiritual teacher. The founder of Intuition University, she's taught hundreds of thousands of students via her books, courses and training. |