Author: spiritflower

Writer, author, lightworker

God Rides the Subway

People in the Western world have been taught that God, or Spirit, is something accessed primarily in a temple, church, or other sacred space. Even though we have heard the phrase “God lives within” most of our lives, we still carry an underlying belief that God is in the heavens or some other dimension. Many are questioning that view today and, from their own personal experiences, find Spirit not only inside but everywhere else. Not having been raised in any particular religion, I found it relatively easy to embrace this latter view when I embarked on spiritual exploration as an adult. Now, when I pause and take a deep breath, I feel that Presence in everyone and everything I see—and such gratitude for the connection.

For instance, yesterday I took the bus and subway into Boston for an eye doctor appointment. I live outside the city so the noise, crowds, and busyness can take some getting used to (even though I worked there for many years before retiring). I had to mentally stop and breathe and then shift my inner gaze in order to center myself in the open awareness that is so much a part of me now. In doing so, as always, God was everywhere I looked.

The homeless people clustered by the library were God, as were the nearby construction workers and the college students rushing by deep in conversation. The mockingbird enthusiastically serenading in the tree I passed was God, along with the pansies on the ground below. God was the slightly inebriated man at the subway stop loudly singing: “You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman.” As was the wild-haired man in faded but colorful running shorts and tank top dancing down the center aisle of the subway car.

And God was the crossing guard riding home on the bus, talking to the driver about her wife and how much she loved her work. Both of them shared stories about job loss and unpaid bills during COVID, as well as gratitude for their lives now. I stood quietly listening near them on the crowded bus and also felt gratitude, glad that such a friendly, inclusive conversation could take place in public in the state where I live. God-ness seemed to fill the entire bus and all the diverse people on it.

Such are the moments that pass quickly through our days, and we may miss them if we don’t pay full attention. It is easy to do—to tune out what seems like noise and shut down to the living spirit all around. I often did it when I commuted to work in Boston daily. Yet now, in recent years, as I grow older and I realize more fully the precious unrepeatability of each person and each moment, I find it easier to pause and remember.

Even if you don’t believe in what has been named “God” or “Spirit,” try opening your eyes and heart wider to the vast variety of the world around you—whatever you see from that space will fill your life with wonder and profound appreciation. The spirit of life is everywhere, even the city subway, and it’s all part of the greater oneness of the universe.

Empty Hands

I don’t use apps much or carry my cell phone everywhere I go. To me, they can be distracting, even burdensome. I want to move through my day-to-day life with my hands, heart, and mind open. For instance, when I go bird-watching, I bring my binoculars and anticipation. That’s it. While others around me are holding their phones up, using an app to identify a bird call, I am just listening—and looking. I don’t want a cell phone to come between me and my experience of the wonder of birds. I leave it at home. If I can’t always identify the bird I am seeing, that’s okay. The wonder is there.

Not everyone would agree with that. Apps can help birders identify what they see, just as books and CDs did when I first started birding years ago (and they are still useful). I understand. It’s exciting to be able to recognize and name a bird that appears before you. Yet, relying too much on human inventions to filter life’s experiences may create separation instead of connection. We lose the thrill of discovery, the immediacy and excitement of being fully present and alive. And of course, it’s not just about birds. It’s about everything. As I ride the bus or walk down the street, I see people looking at what is streaming on their cell phones rather than the reality streaming all around them.

When I was on a whale watch a few years ago, a humpback whale breached nearby, and everyone on the boat was holding their cell phones out in front of them, taking photos. They were viewing the miracle of this huge whale in such close proximity indirectly, through a human-made device. And this happens all the time. Taking photos of reality or watching a video instead of experiencing it directly. Granted, I like to take pictures too, but not all the time. I don’t want to completely replace direct perception with images and miss the real thing.

If I fill my consciousness with mental filters and my life with cell phones and digital cameras, I can get lost in the midst of them. The soul of who I am in this lifetime misses out. I didn’t come to this Earth for substitutes and simulations. I came here to be fully present in each moment, no preconceptions or imitation reality. An impossible task, you say? Perhaps. And yet I try to move in this direction every day, emptying out the unnecessary so I can fill myself with the experience of each moment, uncluttered and free.

There is pressure all around me (and you) to engage in virtual reality instead of the real thing. I have to consciously remind myself to “be here now” in every living second. I believe it is possible, not just for me but for all of us. Put down your cell phone, walk out the door, hands empty, and look around—real life is everywhere, just waiting for you.

Stillness and Spirit

Within stillness is Spirit: beingness without definition or form. Before it manifests into the world as we know it, the entire universe is pure silence, a formless Presence that shines with light. When we are born, we are that shining light, taking human form. It remains within us throughout our lives, but we forget that it lives there as the soul. If we embark on a spiritual quest later in life, we may become aware of that soul presence and know it as God/dess. This is the human journey.

Growing up as an only child in the Illinois countryside, I experienced silence as part of my daily life. I could often be found sitting in trees reading or playing quietly by a creek. The sounds of Nature surrounded me, but there was a deep stillness within them. As an adult, living in various cities, I sought that silence everywhere, beneath urban noise and busyness. I could always find it when I was alone, so I valued solitary time, particularly in Nature. My exploration of spirituality led me to recognize God in meditative moments of complete silence. External silence reflected inner stillness, and it was all soul awareness.

This awareness and silent connection to Spirit has become an essential part of my life. Each morning before dawn, I sit in silence and breathe it into my consciousness. With each breath during the day, I reawaken that awareness. This is my practice midst all the distractions of daily life. It holds me steady when so many parts of living on planet Earth now can throw me off balance. If I can find my way back to the inner stillness of my soul, I recenter.

After my journey through breast cancer two years ago, I began to become more aware of the cycles of form and formlessness arising within silence. The challenges of that time expanded and deepened my spiritual connection in ways I couldn’t have imagined beforehand. For example, a few months ago, as I looked out the window at the winter snow, I suddenly recognized the seasons as a reflection of life taking form within the cosmos, God becoming manifest.

Winter can be seen as formless beingness that holds all potential. Spring is the birth of life in the forms of Nature on Earth. Summer displays the full bloom of living expansiveness. Autumn colors show us the colorful light of life just before it releases itself into the formless slumber of winter once again. A wondrous cycle of living and dying and rebirth that repeats itself each year. Night and day, darkness and light, are other examples of form arising from the formless unmanifest realm of pure being every day. And sound too emerging from the silence as birdsong at dawn.

If you look around and quietly observe with your inner eyes, you can see these cycles of form and formlessness taking place everywhere. Slow down and breathe in the silence beneath everything, and you will be amazed at the miracles you experience. Spirit lives in stillness, which is the heart of who you/we are.

Sentinels of Song

In spring and summer, I wake up each morning to the robin’s cheery song outside my window. S/he sings at the very top of the tree in our backyard for several minutes, then flies to another tree, then another, and another, then back again to the backyard. At night I fall asleep to the sounds of a mockingbird’s wonderful medley of various bird songs, and at dawn s/he is still singing. Robins and other songbirds do this to establish their home “territory” or attract a mate. Feathered sentinels, they seem to watch over the area with care, enveloping it in song. I can actually feel the vibration of living presence surrounding me as I listen.

I also hear cardinals, song sparrows, house finches, white-throated sparrows, Carolina wrens, mourning doves, and chickadees singing the day into being. Canada geese call as they fly overhead. Each of their songs is unique and a delight to hear. My heart is uplifted as I walk through my neighborhood every morning. Sometimes, late at night, the soft haunting call of a screech owl can be heard in the trees outside the window. And when I go to nearby Mt. Auburn Cemetery for each year’s spring migration, the songs of orioles, tanagers, thrushes, flycatchers, and warblers of all kinds fill the air. I am reminded of the birds that were part of my childhood in rural Illinois, and my heart expands with love for the world. In spite of human conflict and thoughtless neglect of the environment, birds continue to bring joy to the world with their songs, weaving a musical tapestry. They are like guardians of happiness on Earth.

Perhaps every one of us is meant to do this in our lives: be sentinels of our individual human songs. Each of us in our own way is unrepeatable and colorful, like a songbird in spring. And we each have a unique gift to bring to the world. A song of the soul, if you will. When we “sing” full out, lovingly, heart open, we lift the hearts of those around us. A magical alchemical vibration!

By “singing,” I mean simply being yourself. Birds don’t pretend to be something other than who they are; they are completely aligned with Nature and their “birdness” as they sing. If you and I also align ourselves with the natural world around us and forget about trying to become something other than who we were born to be, “song” flows from us like light. It is the music of the soul and the love in our hearts, which we came into this life to share.

This may sound like a nice story with little connection to the real world, but if you pause a moment and listen to the next bird you hear singing, you may realize exactly what I mean. If each of us was created to live on Earth for a particular reason, to bring to the world a particular gift, what is yours? What is the soul music you came here to share? If birds are sentinels of song, perhaps human beings are sentinels of the heart. When we love fully, the music of the spheres flows through us.

Life As Is

How we see life changes over time. When we are children or young adults, it stretches before us in vast waves of possibility and potential. In middle age, we become one with the waves and often forget about our own progress on the trajectory of life. Then as we begin to grow older, we may find ourselves looking more closely into the greater meaning of life and our own lives in particular. A subtle shift in language occurs: “my life” becomes “the rest of my life.” How strange that seems, both to hear and to say. That “rest” could be 30+ years or one year, no way of knowing. Of course, that is true at any time of our lives, but the longer we live, the deeper we feel that truth.

 As I look at my life, I feel both joy and sadness. Joy at the blessings that fill it, both people and experiences, and sadness at its ephemeral essence. Impermanence is the basic nature of life on Earth. Yet, full acceptance of that very impermanence is one of the greatest pieces of wisdom we can attain in our lifetime. At a certain point, we come to realize that all we are given here is rich beyond words. Language cannot fully express the wonder of living with eyes and heart wide-open on this sweet planet. The longer I live, the more profoundly I am touched by the beauty of Nature and the love of friends and family, realizing it is all fleeting and everlasting simultaneously.

Over time, I have come to surrender to life exactly as it presents itself. That is the essence of the spiritual journey I have been on for many years. Initially I was looking for a way to accept eternity, the stretch of infinity beyond my lifetime. What I found, and continue to find, is that that acceptance lies hidden in all the details of my daily life. Each tree, flower, or human soul I encounter is eternal, the entire universe held in its very beingness. When I stand in awe of that living Presence, I “hold infinity in the palm of my hand,” as William Blake wrote. Infinity, once a source of fear and suffering for me, instead becomes a source of liberation.

Humans invented time and space to try to explain the world and our lives. When we step away from that limited view, explanation is no longer necessary. We stand in eternal Presence, and within that is the meaning of life. What I have searched for most of my life is not what I thought it was. It is not an answer to a question, but rather living beyond questions and answers. This is what Ram Dass referred to as “loving awareness.” It is not something that can be explained but only experienced. And the longer you live, the deeper the experience.

Ultimately, we discover there is no end, nor any beginning. Definitions and parameters fall away, and all that is before and within me is life as is, both a miracle and a blessing. Human joy and sadness interweave within that vision. Every single experience is part of life, designed at the soul level for our expansion into awareness of the light that fills us—and everything.