Love, Maur
I’m getting ready to wander from the known structures of time and responsibility, going off grid for a few days in the unscheduled flow of wanderlust. I am going to Ireland. Headed there for my daughter Billie’s Maiden Voyage to the Motherland, this time I go with the passport of a native, the visa of one who has returned, clinging tight to the souvenir I have acquired from the adventure of chasing dual citizenship. This tiny booklet is a symbol that I have untangled the knots and restored the umbilical cord to my ancestors. I return with the shifty, shy gaze of a stepchild, or a long-lost relative, waving a notification from 23andMe, “I belong to you, and I’m hoping someone will retrieve me from the bus stop.” But of course, it’s not all that desperate and dire; we’ve rented a car, so we should be fine. It’s interesting to go away to come home. And stranger still to be homesick for a place you’ve never lived. Am I programmed for melancholy, or is this an echo of generational healing? I think of Ireland as my spiritual home; it holds a sense of sacred magic, like entering an old church. I find a calm settling, both mysterious and yet certain, not easily identifiable, and yet I know it by heart. And my body agrees, responding in a way that feels like stepping into the ocean, “Oh yes, hello, it’s you again.” And then there comes a baptism, a swell of ancient rites, ritual, and reverence, and suddenly I am home. Of course, this shift does not need to be sought through pilgrimage; it can be found in a cup of tea, a chance encounter, a labyrinth, or a lover. Not so much something we go to, but rather an awakening, an awareness of what we come from. This is not some stumbling into Grace, not a happy accident; we encounter awareness because we have made the space to remember that we are precious, sacred beings in need of rest, respite, and soul food. This is the truth that gets silenced by the screaming world. And so my invite, my friend, is to find your way home. We were not built for the firehouse of stimuli. We are designed to go at the pace of peace, to listen to the rain, take the slow path, shoot the breeze, and surrender to the plan of fate and favor that is not our own. It can sound passive, but it is not. In the surrender, there is bristle and brilliance. Fresh learning invites us to the awe and reverence that this life deserves. This moment is so palpable, so all-encompassing, so restorative, like being held safe in the mother’s lap or the lover’s arms. Your breath catches and expands, Your voice softens. Your eyes begin to see again. Clarity comes, striving goes, and a trust in an intelligence that provides all and asks nothing begins to seem strangely trustworthy. And you are home I have witnessed this type of arrival happen day after day in our community, MiraclesLIVE365, [https://speakeasy.breezechms.com/form/f167855723891776]and no matter how many times I see it, it never gets old. It’s a constant loop of sunrises, each one more breathtaking than the last. Friends come carrying the weight of grief or grievance, struggling with an unseen splinter in their paws. And then we meet, tucking our chins, bowing our heads, and begin again to surrender the meaning and arrive at the moment. It’s not always a sweet melting; sometimes it’s a street fight, to surrender to heal to forgive to return home. But we get there. We cross the threshold, sometimes with just a breath, that takes us in, and the baggage, the burden, seems to be transformed, translated into something holy, or forgotten. It’s a miracle. And like raindrops illuminate the spiderweb, we see the connection between us. The commonalities that help us to drop the facade and just be, another sacred drop on the web of life. The soul returns, remembers, and responds to the radiant rhythm of breath and being. The body relaxes, and in the absence of proving and striving, we come home, again and again, to the journey without distance from the head to the heart. What matters is not your place or position; what matters is your presence and your willingness to be present in the ever-flowing, shifting stream of life. I hope you find your way there, I hope you find you are here, I hope we all find our way home. Love, Maur EVENTS Check out the talk in the header, and if you want more, click the link below to get the Zoom link and a reminder text. At SpeakEasy, easy is our last name. I am thrilled about this Mother’s Day series and the awesome line-up of speakers! If you are looking to awaken your Voice, Value, and Visibility, this is for you. SpeakEasy Spiritual Community honors all paths and is anchored in the teachings of A Course in Miracles and the Divine Feminine. We meet virtually on Sunday at 10:30 am CT and feature a community conversation that invites us to speak easily about spiritual principles and practice. Please don’t leave your brains, beliefs, or background at the door. We don’t have all the answers, but we love the questions. Join us live at SpeakEasy Spiritual Community to add your voice to the conversation. Love, Maur Substack is a reader-supported publication. Subscribe and gain access to our weekly Live Virtual Story Salon for writing accountability and support. If you have thoughts to share, I would love to hear from you. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit maureenmuldoon.substack.com/subscribe [https://maureenmuldoon.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2]
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