Hear me read this post.
Today I had lunch with my friend, Karen Sela of Lumina Coaching. As we discussed the dilemmas of writing and voice and Presence, she reminded me that we can either get stuck in the present, what is happening now, and what seems to be the answer today, or we can choose to look farther out and write and teach for the future, for the evolution of consciousness and for the unknown but latent possibilities each of us holds.
What a beautiful thought, that it is the future we are giving life to through our words; it is the future we are learning to sing.
In that moment, I felt a little breath of encouragement and inspiration, and when I really allowed that thought to be taken in, an even larger breath began to come out of me, a larger breath and a song, just like the howl of a coyote.
Have you ever been lucky enough to hear, really hear that sound? Not in the movies. Not in imagination, but for real? The last time for me was in Wyoming, looking out across an empty, impossibly dark night from a perch on a high ridge, feeling the sharpening wind and behind it a silence so profound it made my ears ring and my spirit vibrate like a tattered rag. Then, suddenly, and with all-consuming magic, that music came up out of the valley, so familiar, ancient, and vital. All I could do was listen, smile and be drawn into its shadows until I, too, became that old/young canine that I must once have been, still am, and letting it all out, I howled, too.
There are millions of us now, howling in our ways, writing and speaking and teaching for the future. Can you feel that? And yes, the wind is sharpening and the night seems so impossibly dark we can trust little but our own noses to guide us forward.
But when, in truth, has it ever really been different? Hasn’t the world always favored us, its admirable tricksters, stirring up the potentials, dislocating the present?
Suppose you were trying to make a difference in a village fraught with avoidance, tension, and dishonesty? Oh yes, my friend, you’d be a coyote, too!