Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 4 Comments

Hand on the Heart

Friday was full.

Jeb stayed home with the sniffles while I tried to work from home.  He did as I requested, which was to keep himself occupied while I tended to my tasks at hand.  But being that he was not really all that ill, he had plenty of energy to essentially turn his room inside out.

The dishes in the sink, the pile of Legos scattered by the door, the voice of Casey Kasem as Shaggy on the Scooby Doo DVD  – I tried to tune out the peripheral chaos and focus on my work.  At one point I realized I had to see a client and Jeb was going to have to come with me and occupy himself in the car.  I’d sent an email and left a message with Rex in hopes of getting a little relief but there had been no reply.

I gathered my essential work-related items and then began hastily throwing together some snacks for Jeb’s backseat excursion.  A tangerine, a bowl of cheddar goldfish, a breakfast bar and some water.  He put a basket of toys together and we ran through the rain to load up in the car.

As I pulled out of the driveway thinking of how I could most gracefully appear professional yet still tend to the needs of my under-the-weather-child, I felt the tension ripple through my body.  I knew this feeling.

I’d spent 5 days in December having an intimate exchange with this strained sensation.  It feels heavy, like something of a mountain on top of my head.  And this mountain is ever-demanding and never lets up.  Under the pressure of this prominence my very being constricts and tightens.  Things move faster, my patience grows thinner and eventually…I get mad.

So Jeb’s in the back seat trying to see if one of his Star Wars Storm Troopers can fit in his remote control Jeep while Buzz Lightyear looks on.

Buzz Lightyear and a bald Mr. Potatohead

Riding shotgun with me is my laptop and paperwork, a ten page to-do list and a stick of gum.  I feel the overwhelm close in on me like a shroud.  And then I remember the words of the Ambassador.

If you follow the Archives you may recall the Ambassador shared his story of 15 seconds of grace. He also imparted some sage advice for moments when grace can’t even be felt for a millisecond.  He suggested the simple gesture of a hand to the heart.  A deep breath in.  And just be there like that for a moment.

So I’m driving down the highway with Jeb and Mr. Potatohead and I reach my hand to my heart and breathe.  There is a comfort there of simply feeling a hand on my chest.  An abbreviated version of a self-hug.  I notice the air in my lungs.  And I begin to see the green of the wet trees along the highway with a bit more vivid vision.  After about a minute, I do realize that my body has relaxed.

photo by Jessica Dofflemyer - all rights reserved

No circumstance has changed.  I still have a client to meet.  Jeb is still sniffly.  But I’m a bit more calm.  And then I realize that the mountain on my head is not just sourced in situation.  Surely life will provide plenty of external conditions to challenge me.  But in the end, I’m the one who decides how it affects me.  I choose to tighten.  I choose to lose my grace in haste.

Hand on the heart makes space.  I like this.

Within five minutes of arriving at my clients’, Rex texts me that he can be with Jeb.  I shuttle him to his father’s place with gratitude and have the rest of the day to focus freely on my work.  I’ll admit the day still saw instances of tension and I forgot all about my heart.  But I had a glimpse of mastery in that moment there with Jeb and the toys and the highway.

And you know, just for fun…if you’ve read this far.  I invite you to try it for yourself right now.  Put your hand on your heart and see how it feels.

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

The First Day of 2011

I wake in the dark to an empty house, well-rested.  Brew coffee and write.

As the first shadows begin to appear in the early morning sun rise, I make my way to my car and drive to one of the most beautiful beaches I know.  My steps are the first imprints of 2011 on these golden sands, wandering slowly under a pinking sky.

Often during this time of year the waves are so big you cannot walk to the end of the beach.  This morning the winter swell is moderate, the tide low.

photo courtesy of Pepe Conley

I have an all-access pass to the place that is my temple.  Not a soul in sight.

At the fresh-water spring that flows through rock and thick green moss, I strip down and stand in the tall fall.  Look out at the vast ocean that stretches north into nothing but horizon.  Salt and sea mist rise and cool water anoints my crown.  Good morning!

In the afternoon Jeb and I load up my car with good friends and a big bowl of Thai squash soup.  The scent of garlic and curry wafts through the vehicle as we make our way to the Taro Patch where a community potluck is being held.  Hawaiian chanting, African drumming, songwriters and a didgeridoo.  Two couples get up and renew vows before the 400+ crowd in ‘sacred union’ ceremony.  There is interpretive dance that I think has something to do with a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.

All of Kauai’s woo woo crew are here in a potpourri of bright batiks, Hawaiian prints, Burning Man accessories, fedoras and board shorts.  We are an eclectic family all perspiring together in the muggy grass.  But we’re happy by the riverside, in the sacred space of this place at the base of Kalalea – Anahola’s distinctive mountain.

Children run about safely unattended.  Jeb keeps scaling jagged lava rock and I can’t decide if I should pluck him down or just stop watching.  Elijah and John Dumas are on the stage singing about the freedom of living your dreams.  They’ve altered the standard “Happy New Year” so that we all may transcend time and space, by simply saying “Happy New Now.”  It’s New Year’s Day on Kauai.

The event culminates with a “Goddess Chant” but I’m confused to see all the women at the back of the stage and a man with the mic in the front singing about opening our hearts.  We gather our things and exit before I have a chance to see them come front and center.

Back home with friends, we eat a simple dinner of garden pesto and pasta.  Crisp bread and red wine.  For dessert, maple wafers and tangerines by the fire, while a friend from Tahiti tells tales of diving with dolphins in his thick French accent.  Jeb demonstrates how to make a blade of grass whistle in your hands.

From Kauai, I’m wishing you a beautiful new year and a most excellent ‘Now’!

 

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Jade Stone Slipping Through Time Portals

I’m sitting, eyes closed, on a cushion on the floor with nine of my fellow seminarians as we are in the final half hour of a five day exploration of our livelihood and place in the world.  This workshop has taken place in one of my favorite locales and by now I am softened, open and happy.

Our skilled facilitator (Susan Bernstein, Work from Within) is guiding us through a meditation where we imagine ourselves launching into space and traveling through time.  When we land it is five years in the future and we are greeted by our future selves.

There I am, forty-two years old, smiling and welcoming me with a warm hug.  This woman understands me like no one else.  No words need be exchanged, she knows my journey and she’s here to show me that all is well in the future.

We find ourselves on a cliffside vantage overlooking the Big Sur coastline.  The view is grand, Future Me’s connection to the land is strong.  Jeb is there, too.  Now twelve, he is happy, quiet and present.

We walk to a bench and I sit in the middle with pre-teen Jeb and Future Me on either side.  Future Me puts her arm around my shoulder and I feel her deep understanding and encouragement.  Real-time tears move down my cheeks in the full experience of this meeting.

Our group is guided through this exchange and we come to a point in the meditation when we ask our future selves if they have anything to give us.  Future Me presents a piece of Big Sur jade in the shape of a heart.  She reminds me that anything is possible.

Our facilitator eventually guides the group back through time and space to land on our cushions in 2010.  The workshop is over and we share our goodbyes, each traveling in our separate ways.  I’ve arranged to spend a night in Big Sur, where my little room has everything folded in an accordion-like fan style:  the toilet paper, the tissue, the washcloths and hand towels.

It’s early evening and I’m across the street from my hotel room, browsing through a shop full of gemstones.  There is a case that features jade but most of it seems to be from other places.  The woman at the register speaks limited English and is in the process of closing the store.  I ask if she can help me find the jewelry made from Big Sur jade and then debate on purchasing the pair of earrings that she shows me.  I decide to get them and as she wraps them up, I notice a bowl full of raw chunks of jade at the counter.  I begin to sort through the rocks thinking I’d like to have a few small pieces to give as gifts.

As I’m sorting I hear her speak in a thick accent, “I think this is for you.”

I look up to see that she has reached into her pocket and is holding a smooth dark green stone in her hand.  Though it is hard to understand her words entirely, I gather the following: she was walking on the road that day, looked down and saw the rock.  She realized it was a piece of jade and picked it up.

“You found this stone today?” I ask.

“Yes,” she nods, smiling.

“Just on the side of the road?”

“Yes.  I think it is for you.”

“For me?  You want me to have it?”

“Yes.  You like jade.  Is for you.”

I take the stone.  It is soft, the shape of a diamond with rounded edges.  I am amazed.

I thank her profusely and ask for her address so that I can send her a Kauai jade equivalent – the sunrise shell.

Maybe it was a coincidence that on the same day that Future Me handed over a heart-shaped piece of Big Sur jade in some guided meditation, I was gifted that stone from a stranger at the shop called “Heart Beat of Big Sur“.

Heart Beat Gallery, Big Sur

But I like to think it was the ultimate cosmic wink.  That somehow forty-two year old me slipped jade through the wrinkles of time and space, offering that stone as a reminder.  That anything is possible.  Magic comes in simple moments. All is well and will be well.  Trust.

As I conclude this last day of 2010, I think about the future and what I want to cultivate in the coming years.  I hope to catch up to Future Me and share a laugh.  Though one never knows how long they get, I hope I have 5 more years and then another happy fifty more.

This little tale of jade in Big Sur is already in my past.  And Future Me resides somewhere in a time I haven’t met yet.  Life is a series of present moments and this day is what’s alive.  Today I’ll be packaging up a little sunrise shell and mailing it to a PO Box in Big Sur.

photo by Jessica Dofflemyer - all rights reserved

Happy New Year!

Note:  After writing the above words, I went to my suitcase to find the jade and take a photo to accompany this post.  After searching every pocket of every travel bag I simply cannot find it.  Was it all just a dream?  Or, like the chrysoprase stone will it turn up in some random moment?  Gotta love these mysteries.