The Heart of Innocence

This time of quarantine, while challenging on so many levels, can also be a time of resting, reflecting and healing the body, mind and soul. Living in WNC, there is a certain bliss in being able to retreat to this sanctuary of evergreens and mountains, with its abundance of wildlife co-existing with their human neighbors.

Each day, I’m grateful for the birds outside my window, the bunnies, groundhogs and deer in the yard and the gentle horse at the end of my street.

These creatures feel safe here and their innocent eyes invite me to let down my guard, take off my masks and come out from behind my protective stance. Perhaps they see the sadness in my eyes or sense a reticence in my energy as I tiptoe past them.

"It's okay," they seem to whisper. "It's safe here."

Breathing in the crisp, cool oxygen-saturated air, I let myself drift away, loosening my grasp on the chaos happening in the world, as I fill my ears with the sounds of the birdsong, study the hawks soaring above me in flight and take joy in the crunching sounds of the horse chewing the carrot or apply I bring him on my daily walk.

The state of the world with all of its fears and feelings of despair seems to ooze out through the bottoms of feet with each tentative step. Instead, the earth holds me, shooing away the mental demons that had roosted in the rafters of my mind for the past few weeks.

My hurting heart has been weighing me down, swollen with disappointment at all that I cannot fix or manage or control. Everywhere I’ve looked for comfort or a solution has seemed just out of reach. I keep trying to do more, be more, show up more, but to no avail. All that really seems possible now is to let go—to just accept everything exactly as it is without expectations or judgment, even when it isn't the way I wanted it to be.

Now with the faces of innocence before me, I decide that I need to enter into the heart of my own innocence again—that sacred place where there is no ego or attachment, but just lots of spaciousness to be myself—to let the Divine intervene.

What was missing is space.

Nothing can enter a crowded mind.

Miracles cannot heal.

Gifts cannot be received.

Love cannot flow. 

Overdoing and especially over thinking leads us around in circles.

I needed to stop the madness.

I needed the medicine that only nature can provide.

When life becomes too much to hold, it's wondrous to trust the greater intelligence to lighten the heart's load so we can breathe, and ultimately forgive the chaotic mind for its damage-inflicting ways.

We are all temporarily on pause, filling with uncertainty about the future. We can either resist (which I do several times a day), or we can surrender (which I’m learning makes things so much easier). None of us can control or fix or hide or run away from what’s unfolding. But we can choose how we will be with each moment. Not what we do but how we will BE. Then the doing can flow from that.

Focusing on innocence, wherever we can find it, keeps the heart open and soft. The blossoming trees, the children playing outside in the sun, the smell of fresh-cut grass, the laughter of a friend, a warm cup of tea—in the midst of chaos, these simple things become everything.

Savor them. Treasure them. Enjoy them like you never have before.

When the pause button lifts there will be work to do, and you will be glad for this time of rest.

For those on the front lines in stores, hospitals, the armed services, government and other businesses that are fully functioning, as well as first responders, parents homeschooling their kids and employees keeping the money coming in, may you all be gifted with rest and nourishment when the virus has passed. You are greatly loved and appreciated.