Cruz Bay off St. John Island slept while I watched the single light in the harbor. It blinked and I tried to catch it’s rhythm, get in its cadence.
It was the middle of the third night of our Virgin Islands vacation and my spirit struggled to transition from my hectic mainland life to our annual island life.
I sat outside, listened to the cocks crowing and wrestled with my unsettledness. Instinctively I knew that I needed these few hours in the dark with only God and the harbor light as company.
Here’s what God/GUS had to say:
Soften your edges, babe. You’re a little too sharp, a little too jagged.
That’s it, just breath as the gentle breeze sweeps across your face. You are here. Just be. Your job, your only job, is to enjoy.
Be in joy.
Listen. Here the distant waves. Let them soften you. There is nothing wrong, love. You just haven’t arrived with your spirit intact.
You are fixable. In fact, let’s say you are fixed. Right now. Just decide it is so.
Can you do that and be pleased with your decision?
There is no happy. There is no sad. Yes, there is morning and night, high tide and low. Those things are fixed. carved into eternal being-ness.
Then there is the finite you. Trying to soften, be more gentle with you.
Let go. Release anything and all things that block you and keep you from knowing your worth and your beauty.
Follow your true north. It is here, right where you are–in you, not out of you.
Soften. Be. Know that you are perfect in my eyes so let go of those error thoughts. They have no place here where you are.
Feel mercy, feel grace. Sit with these things. They are my gifts to you. Let them guide you back to me.
There are times when the only thing that soothes middle-of-the-night angst is a good, old-fashioned talk with God-Universe-Spirit. GUS tends to ring my bell in that 2 a.m. to 4 a.m. window that closes one day and opens the next.
You know what I’m talking about, right? For me, that mystical wake-up means there is no sleep until I heed the call. Many years of practice leads me to my journal, as it did a couple of weeks ago in the USVI.
I likened my call to write to a drunken headache that nothing but throwing up will relieve. Yes, it’s a gross comparison, but you get the picture.
And so I vomited on the pages, scribbling in the dark, knowing the words would hardly be legible in the morning light.
And yet, I got the message. We get the message when we unplug from the silliness of daily living and plug into the wisdom of the one who grounds us.
Sometimes the force to listen is strong. Forget about hearing. Just listen. If you’ve ever experienced a pre-dawn call from your higher power, you understand the difference.