Seize What Flees

I do yoga. I'm no expert, and still intermediate, but in addition to my more intense workouts, I do it regardless of my skill level.  It’s a perfect fit for this introverted, thinking, feeling, contemplative soul. At the beginning of class, instructors often read a thought for the day -a nugget of wisdom to apply to our practice and our day.  It helps “set your intentions” for your “practice” on the mat.  With words and thoughts being one way God shows up for me, these introspective moments on the mat consistently snatch me away into the presence of God-I feel as if I’m sitting at His feet and He’s teaching me a truth I need to embrace. I love the phrases used during this time…Set your intentions…in your practice. 

...I see the bigger picture.  

These moments reground me in my intentions for my purpose and practice of life itself. Intentional and intentionality are now buzz words in our culture...as well as the word practice.  Be intentional.  Live with intentionality.  Practice kindness.  Practice love.  Practice mercy, compassion, patience.  Practice living…full living, embracing every moment.

A snippet from a reading in yoga class this weekend stuck with me...the last few words spoken before we began our “practice.” 

Seize what flees. 

My mind dove in with God, What do I need to seize? Yes, time flees. Minutes, hours, days, years…they flee more quickly with each passing year of life. How much time we squander! How much time we lose waiting on life instead of practicing living life. How much time we lose waiting to take action.

...but time is not the only thing that flees. 

Relationships flee...opportunities flee…some are only available in a moment. Am I seizing these kinds of moments when God presents me with a gift, a choice, an invitation and an opportunity for more?  

“As each day arises, welcome it as the very best day of all, and make it your own possession. We must seize what flees.” ~ Seneca

Take possession of today.  Seize it. It's the best day of all. Seize opportunities for relationship.  Seize opportunities (take action) for love, mercy, compassion, healing, forgiveness, and joy.  Seize whatever you see God has placed in your path as a gift to you.  We often make requests of God, but when He presents the answers to us, we either allow it to pass us, or worse, we doubt it’s even Him...even when that thing we desire, or the opportunity to offer ourselves, is standing right in the middle of our path. Instead of embracing the life He's handed us on a silver platter, we think to ourselves, I need more time, it's not time yet.  

I have learned first hand, life is short...and sometimes is cut short. 

It is time. Seize what flees. Welcome today as the very best day of all.

Set your intentions for today...then go do it. Don't allow the opportunities set before you to flee.

Like a Prayer

 

Yes, I’m talking about lyrics from Madonna…and, a confession.  I, like many other twenty something females in the late 80’s and early 90’s, channeled a bit of Madonna’s clothing style. If not her, then I borrowed some looks from Janet Jackson and Paula Abdul…don’t judge me☺ I was a hip hop dancer and choreographer and carried a flare for the edgy look…still do.  But just because I wore my bangs big, a long stack of black rubber bracelets up one arm, or the denim mini-skirt, showy earrings, and fitted crop top or even the cut off t-shirts, it doesn’t mean I interpreted their music the same way.  I don’t care what a song’s intended meaning is; it speaks differently to every individual. I danced and choreographed, and dressed, using my personal interpretation of songs and of life. 

…And this past week, God surprisingly opened up the words, “just like a prayer, I’ll take you there”, in a way that speaks to me, Jené Ray Barranco.

Just like a prayer, I’ll take you there…this small phrase recently kept me tossing all night.  Now, a week later, the reverberations of these words linger, they echo in my head 24/7-this track has no pause or stop button. I hear only the words, no music…Why? I finally ask God if He has something for me in this- I feel He’s leading me somewhere with this small phrase from a wildly popular, and controversial, song released by Madonna in 1989. 

I’m a questioner, a seeker of meaning, an adventurer, an excavator looking for truth, with an insatiable appetite to discover the authentic, and the beauty, which takes intentionality to discover.  God created me this way and it drives everything I’ve ever written. It drives my life choices and the direction my feet take on the paths I charter. At first, these paths seemingly appear to be rabbit trails, yet are not rabbit trails at all. Instead, they are subtle invitations from God to go with Him on an adventure where He has something to show me. The result is a greater connection with my Creator and a deeper understanding of creation.  My soul expands on these little road trips with Him, just as lungs expands with a deep breath, receiving everything the body needs for continuance of life. 

I’m reminded of a prayer request I wrote in my journal January 4th, 2020. “Send me messages, love notes from You, through the channel of music…through all forms.” This was not a premeditated request but words that flowed right out of the depths as my pen flowed the desires of my soul onto the paper.  God knows music speaks to my innermost, intimate being, the deepest places where my own words feel inadequate.  I set aside every January as a month for intense time of pressing into God and seeking His guidance for the New Year with introspection, opening my soul to the rabbit trails, as well as the main paths He is opening for me.  I want to embrace every adventure He may be preparing for the two of us on the roads we will create together. 

A week ago a friend of mine responded to an email of mine with a quote from the author/speaker/teacher Joseph Campbell.  It surprised me because, outside of the people in my writing world, I had never heard anyone mention his name, much less share a profound passage from his writings.  

…Enter Just like a prayer, I’ll take you there

With Joseph Campbell’s work recently being spoken into my life again, I’m reminded of a well-known quote of his as I begin to write this morning.   If you can see your path laid out in front of you step by step, you know it’s not your path.  Your own path you make with every step you take.  That’s why it’s your path.

Just like a prayer, God takes me there, alongside Him, on the path we make with each step we take together…even on the rabbit trails. These rabbit trails are my path. I discover this path through experiencing life with each courageous, willing, reverent, step I take into the unknown.

Prayer is an interacting with God. It connects me to Him, joins us together-we are listening to one another-walking with one another. Any time I interact with Him, feel connected to Him, it's just like a prayer because in, and feeling,  His presence.

…Thanksgiving and a grateful heart are prayers. 

…Time spent with Him is prayer.

…Prayers and worship carry the power to transport us out of our circumstances and into His presence.

…When I chase after these kinds of prayers, I blaze my own path with Him by my side.

And just as songs speak differently to each individual, so forms of prayer speak differently to each soul and connect us with God…they take us there, enraptured into His presence.

For me, these lyrics from Madonna resonate with my spirit in this way. God whispers this to my soul…Just like a prayer, I’ll take you there, into My presence. He can take me there without a written prayer, without being on my knees, without being in a church…He’s God, omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, creator of ALL things!  The Creator of my body, soul, spirit, and mind.  I follow Him on the side roads with a spirit of an adventurer, and pause to honor Him, to experience His beauty in all things.  

When I experience beauty, I experience Him…just like a prayer. 

“Like a Prayer”

Snowcapped mountains, crisp air in my lungs, awe overcomes me… just like a prayer, it takes me there.

Evening light at ocean's edge, sand underfoot, waves rhythmically crashing, baptizing me in peace…just like a prayer, it takes me there

Full moon on a dark lapis sky, God’s beauty leaves me breathless…. just like a prayer, it takes me there

Ancient cathedral enveloped in silence, acoustic vacuum swallowing my steps, elevating my soul…just like a prayer, it takes me there

Morning mist rises on a lake, hope colors the horizon, thankfulness swells…just like a prayer, it takes me there.

Symphonic calls of geese crescendo overhead, decrescendo, contentment exhales from my soul…just like a prayer, it takes me there.

Midnight glory casts across my bed, the light of the moon romances my heart…just like a prayer, it takes me there

Ethereal notes, operatic pitch, pulling a gasp from my lungs  it lifts me to a heavenly realm…just like a prayer, it takes me there, raptured right into His presence.

The Mark of Something New

Ten years ago today- it was the day my life changed in an instant, like a bolt of lightening preceding a growling tremor of thunder, causing my soul to vibrate through every cell in my being.  As if my body was still resonating from that vibration, today I awoke around 3:30am-the same time the tsunami rose instantly from the unsympathetic depths and obliterated everything it touched. On this day, ten years ago, only minutes after hearing him say, Good night, I love you, on the phone, my Michael was swept up to heaven within the powerful vortex of that bolt of lightening.  

 

In my book GOOD NIGHT, I LOVE YOU, I write, 

 

Grief hits like a tsunami…a tidal wave of emotions, pain and crashing waves that are utterly overwhelming.  Following the initial devastation of a tsunami comes a series of crushing waves that are called the Wave Train. The emotional overload after Michael’s death continued to wash over me and wreak havoc. One after the other, these waves continue to hit, and only after a period of time, begin to lessen in strength and destruction. A steady, continual crashing of emotional waves of grief crushed me daily…sometimes to the point of suffocation.  I barely pulled my head above each wave in time to sustain the next onslaught… 

 

Over the days and months that followed, the waves of grief continued to wash over me—crashing in, receding out, crashing in, and receding out. Each time the pain washed over me, I felt as if a part of my heart and strength were stolen from me and forced into the current to be swept out into the violent riptide. Unlike the sea, the waves were unpredictable and came on me from different directions. 

Facing each wave individually was the only way I could brace myself and endure the continual onslaught. During the short periods of recessions, I compartmentalized the waves by writing about the severity of each one, how it affected me, what I learned about life from the blow, and where I experienced the pain.  I recorded the days in an effort to remember where I had been when the wave hit and how I got back on my feet after each one. No matter how hard they hit me, I slowly and deliberately rose to my feet, reestablished my footing, and prepared for what kind of waves might hit next, anticipating from what direction they might come.  Often, they returned only to hit me with the exact same force and wound me in the exact same place.  At other times they were less severe or wounded me in places I did not know existed. 

 

As I cautiously walked through the debris from the storm, I began to pick up pieces of my heart as I recognized them.  I picked up shards of my life.  I picked up memories I wanted to keep.  I even picked up my children, as they were washed up on the beach as well.  We were alive, but barely. I tightly held onto all of these things, pulling them into my chest as I retreated into the only place I felt safe, my own private world of grief.

Grief is deep. It’s shocking. It’s complex. It’s dark, lonely, and unpredictable. 

 

After many years, the Wave Train all but stopped, with the exception of the unexpected gentle waves occasionally slapping up my side, as they do when you are knee deep in the water relaxing in the peace of the sea. You may stumble a bit, but if you have the practice, you spot it coming and allow your body to lift with the wave. 

 

I’ve not had this early wake up call every year on this morning, but this year I had a knowing it would happen again.  For many years now, I’ve known something would be different about the ten-year mark. It would be a true mark:a boundary land, something such as a fixed object designed to record position, the starting line, a sign, a point reached.  I felt a shift in the spiritual realm at the beginning of this year-a level had been reached; there was a new starting line. I had reached the boundary land at the end of long dark valley.  The air changes when you come out of a valley, it’s lighter and the road ahead now captures the sunlight. The possibilities spring up before you as suddenly as a tulip opens after the bareness of winter. 

 

Despite the circumstances of what this morning commemorated, I awoke with a spirit of gratitude.  For quite some time after Michael died, I lost my ability to pray. I was completely mute.  God and I sat side by side in silent conversation. I'll never forget the night I spoke to Him for the first time.  I was lying on my side in bed with the presence of the moonlight shining on my face, when my lips spontaneously uttered my first words of prayer in a whisper…Thank you   It bubbled right out of my soul without a thought. A sacrifice of thankfulness broke through. I was thankful for God’s faithfulness to me.  I was thankful for 25 magical years with Michael Barranco. I was thankful for my three children, for life itself, and for redeeming love.

 

Since that morning ten years ago, each morning, before I even get out of bed, the words Thank you are whispered aloud to my God.  When I turn out my light at night, again- Thank you. Thankfulness truly can rise out of any circumstances.

 

The new open land, a promised land, now beckons me. In the book of Genesis, Jacob travels with his family to new lands and a new life.  On the journey, his first love and wife, Rachel, dies in childbirth. The scriptures say, “He set a memorial, then journeyed on.” He honored her…then moved on. I have set a memorial for Michael Anthony Barranco, Sr. I have honored him with word and deed.  The midnight hour is over and, though I may not be able to see it yet,  God has prepared a journey with adventures before me. The words Thank you are not heavy enough to express my gratefulness of making it to the other side, having crossed over into new land. 

 

When Michael died, we were attending a multi-ethic church in Jackson, Mississippi.  He frequently sang solos alongside the choir, belting out his signature R & B style of singing.  I invited this choir, robes and swaying included, to sing on stage at Michael’s funeral.  The song I chose was “I Wanna Say Thank You.”   When they broke into the chorus for the first time, I could not contain myself-I simply had to stand up.  With a hanky in my hand held high, I stood with an overwhelmed grateful heart for God’s faithfulness.  The entire crowd, of close to one thousand people, all rose with me, and we said Thank you. 

 

If I never live another day
If I never see another smiling face
If I never breathe another breath or take
Another step I want to say Thank You

If I never hear what's to be heard
If I never speak another word
If I never see another sight or taste another bite
I want to say Thank you

Thank you for all that you've done thus far
Thank you for being the God that you are
Thank you for food on my table I know 

You are able, I wanna say thank you

 

Thank you for food on my table
Thank you for making a way
Thank you for watching over me

I wanna say thank you