Sun, kiss me
lighten me
bring me all the way home to divinity
let my dancing spirit fly free in your endless baby blue sky of love.
Itās a gentle summer morning. Fog is rolling over the mountains. And the birds are singing their grace songs. Tree leaves flutter in the breeze as if they too are about to take flight toward the sun. I hear the pleasure receptors in my body saying, āstay right here,ā as I drink in the medicine of it all. So I do. Even though I have a full day ahead of me I stay in the softness of my bed-a perfect sit spot with windows to the garden, sipping coffee, listening, soaking in quiet wonder.
Iāve been feeling close to burnout lately. The consequence of a busy end of school year with my youth students, I suppose, piled on top of a wild amount of collective grief. My capacity seems smaller these days. Tasks and responsibilities that didnāt exhaust me in the past now do. And I know Iām not alone. Iām hearing from many colleagues and friends that they too are exhausted and over capacity. What cultural shifts are needed when the space holders and healers are burnt out too?
I donāt have all the answers to this question. But a sweet morning with my bird and tree family is reminding me that even just a few minutes of sacred pause can renew the body. Can renew the heart and a sense of purpose.
I heard a phrase recently that shook me (in the best way possible). adrienne maree brown was reflecting on the last season of her podcast where she interviewed people working with the natural world, working with spirit, working in the realms of healing (aka witches;) And one thread she noticed that was woven throughout each of these conversations was this idea of our ādivine capacity.ā
We donāt have access to divine capacity simply because each one of us is special, we have divine capacity because we are connected to every other being in the cosmos. We have connected capacity. A capacity that is fortified through being in relationship with other beings and all of our magic working together toward one shared goal: sustaining life.
That means even when you are burnt out or close to it, other life forms can hold you, love you, care for you, tend to you, and help you fill your cup. And then you get to offer the same back to others once your cup has been filled. A sacred dance of care.
What a relief that your singular body doesnāt have to hold it all. Your singular self actually canāt heal or grow or do much of anything on your own. And what a joy that is that a life is built by relationships.
When you feel heavy with the weight of your own suffering or that of the world, what would it be like to instead look out at your ecosystem? To witness the myriad ways your community is showing up for one another. The pollinators dispersing seeds. The mushrooms cleansing the soil. The trees providing a home for birds and their babies.
I think most of us are probably praying for some sort of divine intervention in these times of colonial violence-induced ecocide and genocide. Some kind of supernatural support to awaken those who are still asleep to the harm. But what if the divine intervention is us? What if itās our awe for one another? Our wonder for life and the sacred pause that brings? What if we let our wonder sustain us in these challenging times?
May this solstice portal illuminate our magic, our planetās magic. May it open us up to wonder and one another. And may our wonder radiate out to every corner of the earth, reaching all who need to drink of its medicine.
May the light of the solstice grow our divine capacity for healing.
Together with our sun, may we create more life.
I love yāall.
š» Josie
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I am endlessly grateful to each of you for your presence here. Your support and sharing is so appreciated.