The Sunshine and The Moon

Seeing Upside Down

Hi, and welcome. I record my own voiceovers. It gives you my voice delivering the words I write. At the end, I always play a snippet of a song that spoke to me while writing the piece. The song is linked at the end of every post.

xo - Jeannie Lynn

I almost titled this post Who am I?

Yes, I’m having one of those days.

I had a post scheduled to send to you all this morning (Sunday, 9/3/23). I unscheduled it late last night. I didn’t feel right about it. It was interesting because it felt as if I consulted with you all about it before going to sleep. I considered each of you within the collective of you. What I had scheduled to drop into your inboxes was not initially developed with much consideration of you. I’m not saying what I create to share here has to please all of you. In fact, I believe quite the opposite. It should resonate with me first. From a place of knowing within myself and the joy that sprouts there, a bloom opens with an aroma that we can all enjoy together.

What I had scheduled to post was a crying seedling in the dark soil. The seed cracked open, and that’s about it. I wrote three lines and copy and pasted them over and over. The voiceover was me speaking the words and singing the words. I thought it could be powerful to meditate on the mantra together. I still think something like that could be powerful, but maybe in a different context. I was simply prompted that this is not the moment or the space for that experience to be shared.

I left my house at 7am this morning to teach an 8am yoga class and then worked the front desk until noon. This yoga studio is like a second home to me now. It actually is a big, beautiful house on Music Row, but I digress. I was thankful to connect with the community there this morning.

I got home. I ate a piece of leftover pizza. I ate a bowl of leftover udon soup. I put some chocolate chips on a scoop of peanut butter in a spoon and ate it for dessert. I laid down and took a nap. It was the best nap because both cats laid on top of me, Tana on my legs and Athena on my belly. I woke up around 2pm in a warm fog. I sat up and moved in slow motion back to the kitchen. I allowed the sluggish, heavy feeling. I gave myself the acknowledgment that there has been a lot to move through and process this year. This summer has felt like everything got thrown into a pot together on the stove and turned up to medium high. Anyone else?

Going along with the pot-on-the-stove metaphor, I remember that I started this recipe in the first place. I recall I was really excited to make it. It’s good stuff in here. The simmering boil is intense. I’ve had to pay close attention so as to not burn the whole thing now that I’m well into the process. The boil heats me up amidst the new opportunities, which I expected from decisions like starting a Substack and completing yoga teacher training. The boil is the realization that I can’t say yes to every emerging opportunity. It’s the realization that I can’t be everything for everybody. I am not here to be relevant to someone else’s relevance. I am not here to be liked. I’m here to follow something that is both within me and bigger than myself. The boil includes letting certain things go. It includes being misunderstood. It includes losing a loved one last week. It includes grieving a suffering family member. It includes the birth of a beautiful new niece and accepting the challenge to hold space for pain and joy at the same time. It includes the choice to come back to that joy when the pain threatens to suffocate me. The boil includes multiple family reunions and the calling to be fully present with those family members, despite the temptation to be singularly focused on my personal life endeavors. In other words, more family gatherings than usual means I dodge the pitfall of becoming self-absorbed or obsessed with something. Trust a recovering addict here: obsession is not healthy or sustainable. It can be destructive to a dream. The dream thrives in balance of all aspects of life in motion together: work, family, fun, responsibility, grief, joy, naps, exercise, peanut butter, chocolate chips, and bright red tomatoes.

September 1st felt like pulling the pot off the stove. Ah yes, the simmer on medium high doesn’t last forever. I even had the windows open in the house that day because there was a cool enough breeze in the air.

So, what am I now? I’m more than a mixture of ingredients and things I do in a pot on the stove. Who am I? What’s next? What was all this for?

I miss my teacher who passed away.

I’ve been finding comfort in the story of Star Wars lately. Just like Yoda appears to the jedi in a new way after he passes from physical form, my teacher returns and visits me in spirit.

He reminds me I am love.

Anything I do from a place of love cannot fail.

Love requires my participation if I wish to partner with it.

I cannot sit and sulk and brood and expect a positive change.

A dear friend has been reminding me of a quote we learned in 12-step recovery: Act your way into right thinking instead of trying to think your way into right action. The right actions don’t come by sitting and thinking about doing them. This brings a whole new meaning to a couple other common expressions I hear: “Act as if” or “Fake it till you make it.” I used to not like those because I don’t ever want to be fake. But sometimes the moment calls for action, even if we don’t feel like it or don’t fully understand it.

The sunshine doesn’t sit and ask what it is before it shines. The sunshine doesn’t look around at planets to see how different it looks compared to the others.

The sun shines.

The moon doesn’t make a list of pros and cons of being the moon or not being the moon. The moon doesn’t change because there are clouds.

The moon shines.

As I approach Seeing Upside Down’s one-year anniversary in October, I ask her who she is.

Who are you? What are here to say?

If I asked the sun, he would say: I illuminate the day.

If I asked the moon, she would say: I illuminate the night.

I ask Seeing Upside Down.

She says: I illuminate.

Photo by Timo Vijn on Unsplash