Garden in Glastonbury, England

Sometimes we meet our shadow in the most unexpected places and in the most unexpected forms.

For me, that happened in Glastonbury. I arrived in the fabled English town a year ago today. I’d talked endlessly about how excited I was to go there. I wanted to hike the Tor, see the Challis Well, and visit the Holy Thorn Tree. I just knew it would be magical.

Instead, I was met with a host who forgot I was coming, the most ridiculous mountain of dishes ever, and a chaotic situation that escalated practically by the hour. (You can read the full story in two installments here and here.)

At first I didn’t realize my host was my shadow, but as the days wore on, it became pretty clear that the diminutive, kind, and totally scatterbrained 60-something Englishwoman hosting me was teaching me a lesson about my ego.

This story is as old as dirt: in many spiritual organizations I’ve known, a major shadow is disowning the ego and ignoring the want for power. Often, the leader holds this shadow for the entire organization. This garden/healing center in Glastonbury was no exception.

It all became vibrantly clear one afternoon. The owner of the healing center stood in the kitchen, leaning against the wall, exhausted. Her hands shook…a permanent condition. She looked as if she couldn’t take one more minute of any of it.

And then the phone rang. She let out a deep sigh and said, “Why am I doing this? I never wanted to be a manager. I’d much rather be out in the garden.”

Her words rang in my ears. They still do. Because I don’t want to be a manager either, and I’d definitely rather be in nature than stuck inside.

Seeing this living, breathing representation of my own shadow was like time travel: I saw the future me and I didn’t like her.

Before I left the U.S. to go on my ancestral journey, I thought I might start a spiritual school, and of course I pictured doing it alone. But standing there in my host’s kitchen and seeing her exhaustion and disappointment, I made a commitment to myself to never attempt running a school or even a center alone.

The owner wanted the position of power so she was trying to run everything herself…and failing miserably. On top of that, because she’d grabbed all the power, it left her unable to attend to the small details that kept everything running, like doing the dishes or cutting the greens for the dinnertime salad.

I am forever grateful to the owner of that healing center in Glastonbury for showing me the shadowy truth I’d been avoiding: I can be power hungry and try to do everything myself, and it always ends up biting me in the ass.

Whenever we grasp for all of the power, we end up powerless. It’s one of the great paradoxes.

So who is your shadow figure? Who in your life right now just drives you crazy? Perhaps they have a valuable message for you. See if you can hear it (and share it with us in the comments!).

Lake Vrynwy in Wales

Sometimes, what you’re expecting to get out of an experience is far different than what actually happens. And when you live in the flow, allowing the present moment to unfold, you also allow the universe to speak to you.

That’s what happened to me in Wales.

A year ago today I was staying in a drafty old house there with a perfect stranger.

I met the woman through an online group I’m a part of, and when she saw I was traveling to the UK, she suggested I stop into Wales and pay her a visit.

It turned out I had Welsh ancestry, so I took her up on it.

It sounds crazy now: I went to stay with a woman I’d never met in a country I’d never been to and she wasn’t even part of an organization like WWOOF or the Findhorn Foundation.

But it turned out her cold stone house in the verdant hills of Wales was just where I needed to be for that week in May.

Not because I connected with my Welsh ancestry. In fact, I didn’t connect with the land or my ancestors much at all in Wales.

No, I was there to connect with two women who’d made journeys of their own.

Curled Up with a Good Book

I couldn’t leave the house without a ride from my host: she lived out in the boondocks on a bumpy farm road miles from the nearest train station.

So instead of traveling the verdant hillsides of Wales every day, I spent most of my time curled up on the couch or in bed with a good book.

My host had plenty of them. Her shelves overflowed with books, but she admitted she’d barely read any of them. She jokes with people that they should read her books and tell her what they’re about.

I found two right away that caught my eye: Traveling Light by Robyn Davidson and Deep Water Passage: A Spiritual Journey at Midlife by Ann Linnea.

Both had the theme of women taking risks through travel. Just two weeks into my own adventure, the subject matter spoke deeply to me.

I blazed through Traveling Light, an anthology of Davidson’s writing. The section that I remember most vividly was one taken from her book Tracks describing her 1,700-mile solo trek across the deserts of west Australia…on the back of a camel.

I couldn’t put it down. The trials that woman went through, the heartache, the misery, the triumph…I felt like I could face anything on my trip after reading her story.

And then I picked up Ann Linnea’s book. Her tale resonated in every cell.

Superior Inspiration

Linnea’s journey took her 1,200 miles around Lake Superior, making her the first woman to circumnavigate the lake in a kayak.

But the book was less about the physical feat and more about dealing with her grief at losing one of her best friends to cancer and her angst about whether or not to get a divorce.

As I’d just gone through my own versions of loss and stepping onto a new path, I saw a lot of myself in her.

Throughout her journey she braved terrible storms, the threat of hypothermia, and the ecstasy and pain of being alone (for part of her trip she kayaked without a partner). I scribbled down numerous quotes from the book, hoping they’d give me inspiration in the days to come.

I thought about Linnea and Davidson many times on my trip, especially when things got tough. They became two of my trip angels.

I imagined Linnea in her kayak facing a raging storm or Davidson on her camel, worrying about the heat, and I reminded myself that they persevered. They made it. And they were utterly changed as a result.

Allowing the Present Moment

As my trip unfolded, I realized how much it was changing me. I set the intention to allow the twists and turns and go with them. For the most part, I was successful. And it’s because I threw out my itinerary and went with the opportunities that arose that I had some of my biggest adventures.

Where in your life could you let go a little (or a lot) and live in the flow? Share with us in the comments.

This theme has been up for me big time lately. It is one of the main things I help people with: guiding them to a place where they are their biggest advocate and cheerleader.

Because once you can believe in yourself so totally that you don’t need outside approval then real change happens. Nothing stands in your way.

Often, we are our biggest detractors.

Do you remember the book The Monster at the End of the Book? When I was four, it was one of my favorites. In it, Grover from Sesame Street talks on each page about how you can’t turn the page, because if you get to the end of the book, there will be a monster there.

The further along the book goes, the more adamant Grover gets: don’t turn the page!

But (spoiler alert!) when he gets to the end of the book, he realizes that the monster was…HIM!

This is a perfect metaphor for how we  sabotage ourselves.

We believe that some horrible, awful thing is waiting for us just around the corner, so we don’t take risks. And yet, probably the worst thing that happens is we meet ourselves.

And while we might see something we don’t like, we might also see a furry, blue, lovable being who just wants a hug.

Either way, it’s just us in all our imperfect beauty.

So, we have to believe in ourselves and trust that, even if we have to face a monster, we will survive.

To illustrate the point further, I’ll leave you with this amazing video. Click here to watch it.

This man, a disabled vet, was told he’d never walk on his own again. But he didn’t listen to that story. He faced his monster and he triumphed. He’s a shining example of not giving up on yourself.

Meditating on the Isle of Iona, Scotland

When was the last time you took yourself into the woods or onto the beach or even to a park alone?

If you haven’t done this before, or just haven’t done it in a while, I encourage you to schedule yourself a solo nature trek. (And below, I’ve shared with you a sample meditation you can do in nature.)

When you go into nature alone, the entire experience is different than if you’re with someone else.

You have the time and space to really listen to what is happening around you.

And more often than not, nature and/or the land is talking to you. It can also be a fantastic place to communicate with your ancestors.

During my solo jaunts in nature I have conversations with the land and the trees, and sometimes I also meditate, many times with the intention to speak with my ancestors.

One moment in particular stands out for me as a profound solo nature experience.

Isle of Iona, Scotland

One year ago, I was on the Isle of Iona, a tiny island on the west coast of Scotland. I spent six days there and I had nothing but time to wander the island’s rocky coastline, rolling green hills, and white sand beaches.

It was on the second day of exploring the island that I had this profound experience. It had been my intention on my trip to contact both the ancestors and the land.

I braved the cold wind and walked south where I found a sheltered spot and sat down.

There I was, my body directly touching the land, my lungs breathing in the clear salt air, my spirit and open heart waiting to receive the ancestors and the spirit of the land. I closed my eyes and settled in.

A few minutes into my meditation I connected with a woman, possibly an ancestor, who was going through a crisis.

She was being forced off her land, her children ripped from her hands, and she was crying. An intense sadness came over me. Then the image faded.

I opened my eyes, trying to reconcile what I’d seen in my vision with the landscape before me: tranquil, soft, green land dotted with sheep. No sign at all of trauma or crisis.

I’m not sure if the vision refers to the sweep of Christianity across Scotland or the Viking raids on Iona, but I do know that the vision’s intensity and clarity had an impact on me. Had an ancestor come to me to share her story? Or was the land speaking to me, telling stories of what it had seen?

It’s difficult to know, but what I do know is that I was gifted with this story, one I will not soon forget.

And it’s all because I chose to go out that day, alone, and connect with the land and my ancestors.

You don’t have to travel to a faraway land to have an experience like this. I’ve known similarly amazing things to happen in urban parks. I believe it’s all about your intention and attention. Bringing reverence and gratitude to the place you visit and listening with an open heart can create the right conditions for a profound nature experience.

Solo Nature Meditation

Go out into nature. This could mean your neighborhood park, a county park, or the nearest shoreline. Think of what intention you have for the meditation: contacting nature spirits, your ancestors, the spirit of the land…or something else you dream up.

Find a private, quiet spot, one as separated from others as possible. If there’s a tree or a creek or a rock, even better. Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths to settle in.

Speak your intention in your mind. For example, “In this moment, I would like to connect with the spirit of the ash tree behind me.”

Then relax, become open, and see what happens. You might see images. You might smell something interesting. The wind might kick up. Pay attention, but don’t try too hard. Just ride the experience.

After you’ve sat in this meditative space for the amount of time that feels right, open your eyes. Bring a journal with you if you want to record your experience.

Share Your Stories

Do you have a memory of something magical that happened to you while spending time outdoors alone? I’d love to hear your story. Please share it in the comments.

************

And by the way…

Amy and I had a wonderful time connecting with women during our teleseminar last week and we’re excited to announce we’re launching a class tomorrow called the Creative Healing Journey. To find out more about it, visit the Birthing Women’s Wisdom web site tomorrow around noon PST.

Cluny College at the Findhorn Foundation

Have you ever felt like you’re searching for a new way of living that is more heart-centered, meaningful, and connected with spirit?

I know I have. And I got a taste of it a year ago when I went to Experience Week at the Findhorn Foundation.

If you haven’t heard of Findhorn, definitely check it out. It’s a spiritual community in northern Scotland.

During my time there my heart opened, I made lasting friendships, and I saw how community living can be deeply rooted in spirit, compassion, and equality.

I believe if we consciously implemented rituals and ways of being similar to the ones I witnessed at Findhorn, things would take a decidedly different turn in our culture. And I am talking about implementing them in our homes, schools, and workplaces.

See how these sound to you:

1. There is a tangible atmosphere of trust. The doors to the rooms don’t have locks because it’s just not necessary.

2. The community has a beautiful practice that takes place before any group activity. They call it “tuning in.” People hold hands, preferably in a complete circle, connect with one another’s energy, and either say a blessing or share a bit about how they’re doing in the moment.  This creates incredible presence and brings everyone together. A similar ritual is done after an activity.

3. The community eats mainly local, organic produce. The kitchen staff actively works to prepare the food with love (I worked in the kitchen while I was there and I had a blast). The presentation is always gorgeous.

4.  Non-violent communication is the rule, with “I” statements and a focus on open communication.

5. They do things as green as possible and their eco-village is a hotbed of leading-edge ideas.

And this last one is my personal favorite:

6. The three principles the community lives by are “work is love in action,” co-creation with nature, and using intuition.

Isn’t it just delicious?

And some of you might be asking: is there a down side? Yes, there’s a shadow. I met people on my travels who saw the underbelly of Findhorn, and there are definitely sticky areas, as there are with any organization. But overall, the intention behind the community and amazing things that happen there as a result are so much better than anything I’ve seen before.

That’s why I’d like to see more of us who are called to live in this way implement similar ideals into our lives NOW. Let’s not wait for the chance to go to Findhorn or Damanhur or other intentional communities; instead, let’s bring Findhorn to Oakland or Fort Collins or Chicago.

You know, be the change we wish to see in the world.

Think about what might happen if you told yourself “work is love in action” every time you entered the kitchen to cook a meal or bent over to clean a toilet or did the laundry.

What would happen if you poured love into every action you take throughout the day?

What would happen if you met everyone you see as an equal, as a beautifully flawed and amazing creature, just like you?

I’ll dare to say you just might create something beautiful.

What practices would you bring into your life NOW to create more intention, love, peace, and joy?

Please share: I’d love to know what other heartfelt ideas are floating around out there!