Deborah O'Connor's wonderful occasional columns (http://lovedogdesign.com/LoveDogDesign/columns/columns.html) frequently bring me back to "reality." No, not the reality of jobs and cars and schedules, but the reality of truly being oneself. Yesterday, for the Aquarius full moon, she said that it is time to "engage with the purest truth of Self you can access now." This is the time for clarity and honesty about one's life. And as this Aquarian sits at a hotel near Heathrow, readying for a return to the States, everything certainly does feel clearer than it did two weeks ago.
The fact is that, not surprisingly, my cairn project did fall completely apart. The plan to build a little pile of stones, to thank England for many decades of beauty and meaning, and to release any further expectations about English church music and this place, was a goner from the moment I set foot on the sidewalk outside the airport. It wasn't just singing for a week at one of the world's most beautiful cathedrals, which was brilliant, but hard, and took every ounce of my intellect, voice and physical strength. It wasn't just meeting/re-meeting "my tribe" and becoming instant friends, or hearing Herbert Howells's music being played on the organ as I walked into another cathedral. It wasn't just that feeling of "ah, I'm home" at every step, or the scones and clotted cream for tea yesterday, or the feeling of utter alignment with myself and life. It wasn't just singing Anglican chant every day or eating friendly dinners over a glass of wine. It was that these moments spread out to fill entire days. When I am here, I always seem to be engaged all day long on so many levels. I am alive and fully me, giving everything I have. I fall asleep exhausted, not bored. Life is a joy when you are a seed falling on the proper soil. This flowering must be what we are born to do, if we dare.
So in the end, a little comically and inelegantly, my personal "ritual" involved writing a short gratitude affirmation on a piece of scrap paper, folding the paper around a heart-shaped stone, securing it with a purple rubber band, and throwing it deep into a huge, tangled bush. I don't think it will ever be found, but I know where it is. I literally "put it out there to the Universe" that I appreciatively commit to giving and receiving more of this love. I commit to singing again next summer, if not before. It's not what I expected to come out of this trip, but it is definitely the truth.
