A Guided Meditation, Sacred Space

Dec 21 2020 conjunction solstice.jpg

Are you seeking support in deepening your connection to the sacred?

If so, I offer you this short guided meditation. You don’t need to prepare anything or carve out a large chunk of time in your day - just give yourself the gift of 15 minutes and listen at the link below.

I’ve also included some of my reflections on the season in my letter below.

Dear friends,

I’m feeling a call to hibernate this year with a force that feels physical. It is almost as though my body is demanding to rest and nest. In moments of judgement towards myself, the feeling sparks shame, frustration, and resistance. In moments of generosity towards myself, I’m able to surrender, slow down, and breath deeper with the feeling. 

As the days get shorter here in the northern hemisphere, my moments of surrender usher in a deeper awareness of and connection to the cycles and rhythms of the natural world, of Mother Earth, of the universe. As a wise elder recently reminded me: we humans have a tendency to identify ourselves as different from nature when, in reality, we cannot separate ourselves from nature. That rang profoundly true for me on winter solstice as I watched Jupiter and Saturn almost kiss in the sky in great conjunction. Even as I  recall the experience, I feel awed by the sacred. 

My spiritual practice is rooted in holding dualities that might otherwise feel in conflict. And Still Harbor creates spaces for me to do just that by supporting my practice of generosity and accepting me in my moments of judgement. Thanks to this supportive environment, I’ve experienced more generosity and surrender than judgement and resistance this year. And, in turn, deepened my connection to the sacred. It is this connection to the sacred that supports me in creating space for others as they seek to connect to spirit. 

Thank you for being you - in moments of judgement and surrender. I’m grateful to share in this community with you and for your ongoing support of Still Harbor.

In Peace,

Lauren