Today I’m thrilled to celebrate writing my 13th mokshletter, and last one for the year! This vision — writing a monthly letter to my beloved community — was 5 years in the making, dreaming, plotting and praying. It is finally in 2021 that, with the right support and timing, this was able to happen. So this is a huge shout out to Angbeen Saleem, Moksh’s communications associate extraordinaire, who does the actual blending and sending. And for me, it is a lesson learned about what is possible with faith and dedication, with the right creative collaboration, with building skills and gaining tools and disciplined practice over time. Thank you all for reading, and for your affirming notes over the year(s) sharing how these add light to your corners and curves in the space-time dimension.
A lightyear is the distance light travels in one year. This distance is so vast, I cannot really comprehend it. But I love the magic of the lightyear: a year filled with light’s journey. One can never know the path another has traveled. All we can do is honor our own journeys, and cheer others on theirs. There are rest stops where we recharge, and the final stop when a particular journey comes to a close, like finishing a marathon.
As we close out this year, I’m ruminating on completion and celebration.
I love completions. Some call them endings, and that’s important too. To complete something means to finish it, and that inherently means we let something go. It is no more a part of our daily activity or mindspace or life. When I got my green card in the U.S. it was after almost two decades of immigration tenuousness and tenacity, in turbulent social-political times. Upon completion, my biggest response was relief. It was an exhale, a letting go of something that had caused a large amount of stress and taken considerable time, effort, money, endlessly excruciating paperwork and lots of tears, trauma and loss in the process. When it was over, I felt emptier, and lighter. And then I threw a party! Gathering with loved ones over abundant, delicious food is an eternal form of celebration for me/my people. I now had significant security, more space to breathe, and over time I recovered energy for other parts of my life and other dreams. It is not a coincidence that I was finally able to become a freelancer, then coach, then a writer of these letters-for-liberation.
Completion deserves celebration.
Today also marks ten years in New York for me, and that’s a big deal for this migratory bird. So I have been trying to figure out how to celebrate, and kept reflecting on a message I was getting repeatedly in meditation. Dance. A specific song came to me, and I couldn’t ignore the message because of a word: darshan. Darshan means vision, often a vision of the divine. So I danced exuberantly while making morning coffee. The level of ecstasy and embodied joy I experienced within 3 minutes is indescribable. You’ll know when you feel it, when the miracle of motion moves everything from your heart to your hips and all you can feel is uncontrollable joy spilling out from your body/being.
As we close out for 2021, I offer you some ways to honor your completions, and to celebrate -
Completion - Reflect/write/share with someone.
Notice and name what you’re completing. What’s important about finishing this?
What did it take to get this done?
What did you learn in the process?
What does that tell you about the big, beautiful, brave things you can do?
Celebration!
Offer gratitude to all, human and higher powers, that made your victories possible.
Give back. Let something significant go. What are you excited to release/return? What do you have in excess that you can share freely?
Feed your spirit and body. Gather your loved ones over a warm fire and food. Nap. Read. Chat. These are some of the sweetest, simplest permissions for joy and rest that follow big completions.
Dance. Chair dancing absolutely counts! If you sit more, dance more.
So, I leave you with Rumi’s famous words -
Dance, when you're broken open.
Dance, if you've torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of the fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance, when you're perfectly free.