Five Loaves and Two Fish

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Altar || 2017

I have been leaning not on my own understanding, and it seems the more I lean the easier it is to release and let go. Faith is a practice, and in many ways, a path in self-discovery. When we surrender to the unknown we learn about our resilience, our strength, our courage, and our real spiritual practice, that which is beyond theory or written word, and can only be found within. When we realize that we aren’t able to control certain things we either rise to the occasion or we succumb to the fear. To have faith is to have a floaty, or a life vest; it keeps you atop the water even when the rapids are roaring, and you aren’t certain of what is to come. Close your eyes and allow your faith to carry you, allow your intuition to guide you, and allow the bigness of life and its mystery to comfort you.

That’s what I’ve been doing these days as I rebuild from the ground up and with but a few tangible tools. I remind myself that the few is many, because inside the vast unknown all is available to me and will show up when necessary. This is what I lean into, otherwise, I’d collapse inside the appearance of things; instead, I choose to shine light on the reality of things: Nothing is missing, and all is well. I know this because life reveals it again and again, and also, because I believe that from wheresoever we place our thoughts and energy we manifest. We are energy in form, magnets of sorts walking through life. We draw to ourselves the frequency we put out, so I am mindful to speak faith and life, and allow it to be my boomerang. It is my intention to receive the glory of these words.

It is a practice. Leaning into our faith isn’t something we know, accept, and do on autopilot, at least not for me. My daily practice in leaning into my faith, is conscious. I am aware moment by moment that I have let myself go in order to be carried, and really, I don’t have a choice. I mean, I do. I could allow fear to have me resist, and create chaos that goes nowhere, but that already sounds like a path of suffering, and when you’re rebuilding, you don’t have time for that. All of my energy must be placed in the direction of manifesting the highest outcome. I can’t allow any room and space for the other. My tangible tools are few, so I am mindful to consciously stretch them and allow life’s magic to turn the few into the many.

So, I celebrate and praise life for these moments of beginning again, and for holding my hand along the way. I know that I do not journey alone; I do not walk alone; and I do not sit alone at the table of life. My faith is my companion. May it be yours.

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