Walk to the Well

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Rain falls softly outside the window. The house is dark and cool and quiet. As I sat this morning, I noticed a pensive, worried quality during my sitting. My solar plexus is tender, and saying so. Radiating to my upper-mid back beneath my shoulders, I stretched and breathed deeply into this place to honor and acknowledge the language of the body.


What came up for me is fear. My dear old comrade, Fear, is a consistent reminder that life has its own set of plans and I am along for the ride. It is not always comfortable to take my place as passenger. I am enamored with the concept of Queen and Commander in Chief of my life, but it simply does not serve anyone well when I act out this fantasy. My view is limited to my perspective in any given moment, and the fiction of the past.


This morning, I am reminded of a very favorite line from Coleman Barks' translation of Jelaluddin Rumi in The Essential Rumi.

Keep walking, though there's no place to get to. Don't try to see through the distances. That's not for human beings. Move within, but don't move the way fear makes you move. Walk to the well. Turn as the earth and moon turn, circling what they love.