My intention is always the same: to remove all the distractions of my familiar space, enough so I can hear the quiet, deep, and true voice that lives inside me.
Why? Because ironically, it’s only when I’m alone, that I can remember that I’m never alone. With all the dials turned down, I can hear my own voice, for sure, but I can also hear the divine’s voice in me.
When I’m alone—especially when I’m by water or in nature somewhere, I can hear—and then feel— how “me” is actually “we.” It’s only then that I connect and then commune with the divinity in me. But it’s never pretty or graceful getting myself alone.
When I say it’s a “practice”, I do mean PRACTICE in that it always feels like a massive physical exertion just getting myself out the door—moving around all the excuses, slipping in the greasy piles of guilt on the floor, and navigating the narrow straits of selfish, greedy and privilege that get caught up in my wild curls like a bat with rabies. So yeah, that. Physical.
Because of the pandemic, it’s been almost a full year since I’ve been alone. In fact, the last time I met myself alone, I was working my way through the final edits of my second book, Ignite, which was published November 15th, 2019. That feels like a lifetime ago. But here I am, alone. Practicing. And like any relationship that has languished a bit, I meet myself a bit sheepishly, unsure of exactly how to do this again, the meeting of minds, the conjoining of hearts, the intertwining of spirits.
Want to know what these daily verses are all about? Read here to learn what inspired this practice on my birthday post, November 1st.