Time travelling in my bed

Earlier this week, my soul was crying for some connection. I got into bed, put on my headphones and lay there for an hour listening to music by Hillsong United.

Time travelling and simultaneously present, I raised my arms to Him who knows me better than anyone, He who probably isn't even a He. The first bar of the first song, and my soul overflowed, tears spilling freely onto my pillow, the purest, simplest prayer connecting me straight to the heart of Hearts.

I was transported back to Sydney, Australia, where I lived in 2006 for almost a year.

I remembered church, where I spent so many hours crying and worshipping and absorbing, the schools where I taught English, the breaking of my heart, the beach, the bridge. The contraction, the expansion. The despair, the release.

Good ol' Bondi Beach (ssh, don't tell anyone, but I wasn't that impressed!
It was way smaller than I expected. Looks good in this pic though, eh?)

Time travelling, I jumped further back in time to November 2005, to New Zealand, with the otters and glaciers, the kayaking and hot tub, the bike ride with Natalie, the sheep, the wonderful, all-encompassing freedom that took my heart way above the earth to dance among the galaxies above.

New Zealand skies... they took my breath away.

Then, to California for a visit to one of my favourite places on earth. I see it all so vividly - the sky, the land, the gardens, the people.

Ah, Esalen...

To London next, my native city for so many years, today the place I am so happy to be free of.

I remember it all so clearly.

I remember it all so clearly.

And here, Sussex - home of love, slowness, adventure, birdsong, the place where my soul has settled in a body. Where I've found and begun to build a home. Where I can run alongside the ocean if I choose, or ride up a hill so steep it makes my legs and lungs burn. Where I can hang out with my best pal. Where I am learning how to sing again, exploring how to write, discovering how to act.

As the bed beneath me cushioned my tired body, allowing me to sink and let go and just rest, I somehow knew that I've been carried through this brief, precious life by a force far greater than I can conceive of, a force which loves me beyond my little conception of what love is. In that moment, I was truly comforted, my tears becoming healing waters that stroked my face, tributaries of surrender.

In that moment, I touched the place deep inside my being that knows that everything is going to be okay. It's not for me to know all the answers and figure it all out. All I need to do is connect.

So I write. I sing. I pray. I walk and look at the green of the newly leafed trees. I indulge in the mystery of the irrepressible birdsong. And I remind myself that my only true need is to connect to this wellspring of peace that merely waits on welcome before it overflows, and flows, and flows.

So grateful that I said 'yes' to the whispers.