Building a Home
It all begins with an idea.
“Lord, please help me build this house. “
These cold, dark mornings, I wake to the usual heavy eyelids, but soon find a prayer rising in me, "Be my strength, Lord".
More and more, I find prayers connecting to my daily tasks, for I realize I am helpless to sleepiness, busyness, overwhelm and distraction, unless I am grounded in my practice and a steady rhythm. So I ask for help, and as if by magic, the strength is there upon request.
The layers of overwhelm run deep, as I sit in meditation, peering inward and relaxing. The first layer of thoughts runs on repeat, "I need to make more money. We need to build this house. I need to work harder. What did I do wrong? Whats next?"
The next layer down is this feeling in my body that I've already done something wrong. That everything is not quite right. This feeling reminds of me of the term "original sin", because somehow I wake up feeling as though I've already done something wrong.
Its not until I offer up myself to Love, and go searching for whats True, that I begin to realize how much I'm holding onto that isn't mine. I say my affirmation, "I am Joyful", and find the words flat, until I go a layer deeper to find grief barring the way. I offer that up too, and with gentle invitation, the water swell into my eyes, and my genuine heart slowly lays bare.
I have a dream of building a big beautiful house for my family.
Along with this dream is building a chapel of a music studio, a strong and purposeful business, and a ministry of service. Yet all these creations have one thing in common: me.
My pattern has been to chase and grasp after these things on task at a time, one day at a time, like an ever increasing oncoming of waves crashing over my head.
So my practice has been to ground into myself each day, realizing that I have to build the house within me before I can build the house around me.
From that place, everything I do is an offering. All these songs, all these relationships, every dish I wash, every movement on the mat, they’re all bricks laid in the foundation of my inner temple.
Upon that steady ground, my eyes can focus, and my vision burns in my chest. Escaping from my lips as a prayer to be worthy of it.
The kaleidoscope of my interests and ventures becomes one path, in the grace a genuine heart to give my best to the world around me, and also to myself. My wounded, fragmented self. Like calling upon a loving big brother to put his arms around this scared little kid, and give him hope that things are ok, and that we’re stronger as one.
May we raise the beams upon strong foundations within ourselves, so there is room for Love to dwell within us, and Life to flow through us.