A number of you sent me kind notes last month to share that you enjoyed the audio version of this newsletter, so I've decided to continue the experiment! Keeping it simple: it's still just me, the voice recorder app on my phone, and the words on the page. Click here to listen (it opens in a new window).

 

 

Multiple perspectives coexisting…later this month, half the planet will experience abbreviated access to sunshine while the other half enjoys an elongated period of daylight. This newsletter is an invitation to explore perspective-shifting—not as something we can always do, but as something that's sometimes available to us, and that can orient us to the world in ways that allow for greater freedom, creativity, and connection.

 

Perspective shifts—whether the fruit of practice or as moments of grace—can also help us feel more present, alive, available.

 

In moments when the world feels overwhelming and, as Professor Robin D.G. Kelley writes, our imaginations are "rendered inert" by whatever is transpiring, practices that support us in experiencing life from a different angle can remind us: there's more to the story, more to resource in.

 

One of my favorite practices is this one: right here, right now, taking a moment to experience your body differently than you typically would. In a culture that over-prioritizes what's happening from the neck up and takes the mind's endless stream of thoughts so seriously, what would it be like to bring attention somewhere else entirely?

 

For the next minute or two, choose one of your hands, one of your feet, or the back of one of your knees—whichever you have a neutral relationship to in this moment. Gently direct your attention there, with curious mindful awareness: Does it feel heavy, light, solid? Can you notice air touching your skin? Or if that part of your body is covered in clothing, like a glove or a sock, how does the contact between skin and fabric feel? And then you might sense into your hand, your foot, the back of your knee from the inside out: sensations, aliveness, temperature…

 

~ a story about an unexpected moment of awe 

~ opportunities to connect—including the Through the Threshold course that starts next week and two Sunday retreats! As always, please do not let cost prevent you from participating: just email me.

~ closing wisdom from South African poet and activist, the late Keorapetse Kgositsile

 

This month, may you experience less familiar, more liberatory ways of relating to whatever may be unfolding, moment by moment by moment.

I shared this story with some of you during a recent class, and I've continued to reflect on it. Here's a bit of background: Once a month, I connect with Jackie, a dear mentor and friend who took a chance on me eleven years ago, hiring me for my first job coaching teachers and principals in the New York City Public Schools. Jackie is 41 years my senior and has finally retired; our conversations in Zoomland are a monthly treat for both of us.

 

On our most recent call, Jackie shared with me that several years ago, after reporting some unnerving symptoms to her doctor, she learned she needed an echocardiogram—an ultrasound that uses sound waves to create a moving picture of the heart's structure and function.

 

Jackie showed up to the appointment and found herself in a small exam room. After an experienced technician prepared her for the procedure, there it was—its four chambers, ventricles, valves, all of it.

 

 

"Alison," she said, in a tone that usually implies disbelief, "it was like I was meeting a dear old friend for the very first time. I couldn't believe it! I was meeting my heart—this beloved friend who has done their very best, day in and day out, to support me, to show up for me, to keep beating, generously giving, moment by moment by moment." As she was speaking, her voice kept softening, and what came through was an expansive sense of awe and love.

 

And then she'd had a thought that had never crossed her mind before: What would it be like to meet my other dear friends—my kidneys, my liver...Being human is extraordinary.

 

"What did the ultrasound tech make of your echocardiogram-induced spiritual awakening?" I asked.

 

Jackie laughed. “Oh, she was very surprised!” 

 

It turns out Jackie's heart did need medical support, and she's receiving that support now. But the experience in that ultrasound room changed her. She realized there was so much more to the story of being Jackie, of being human—a goodness she had never contemplated before, the loving effort of her heart, perhaps both literally and metaphorically. Jackie's moment in that room—a different angle on her heart, unexpected recognition—feels particularly significant in this era. 

 

Back to Professor Robin D.G. Kelley, who I mentioned earlier. He offers:

What Jackie experienced was the opposite of imagination rendered inert. In that moment, wonder, gratitude, a sense of the sacred arose—much more than what the conditioned mind usually allows. 

 

May each of us orient our hearts towards awe and the shifts in perspective that buoy our imaginations.

 

PS: As always, questions, reflections, or ideas for potential collaboration (in person or via Zoom!) are warmly welcome. Just reply to this email or email me at alison@twowingsmindfulness.com.

 

PPS: If you think a friend, family member, or colleague would be interested in one of these offerings, please forward this note along! They can also join the Two Wings mailing list here.