I have always loved words. I wrote little poems and stories when I was young, telling of my angst, loneliness and longing from within my shyness. From there, I went to writing articles and various pieces of work, then to a book in 2012.

Words. Sometimes a word comes to me, and I am driven to explore its dictionary definition, as well as the other, metaphorical meanings that we don’t always hear or think about. From there, I seek to bring understanding for myself as to how it might fit into my life.

The word that has come to me recently is “Hinge”. As we know, generally, it’s a mechanical piece of strong metal that connects two solid objects—doors, gates, lids, etc. that allows them to open and close, swing or rotate. Yet, as I explored the definition further, a “hinge” is also defined as the “deciding factor on which something depends”.

Because everything is interconnected, and nothing happens on just one level, I began to inquire with curiosity: what am I feeling in the way of meaning from this word right now? What layer of life is it pointing to? Is it the personal—that which is going on in my own life, my concerns, problems, situations or relationships? Is it within the next circle of influence out from me, my friends, family, clients and others who are close to me? Could it be about something going on in my community, my state, the country I live in, the larger world, or perhaps the cosmos? Maybe, it’s something transpersonal, having to do with the world of spirit or the natural world?

When I look at my own life, I think, hmm, what is a hinge factor in my life right now, what am I waiting for to happen so that I can make a next step? Or is there a next step? Is it possible that I may not know until it happens? Or, perhaps, there is a need for me to check in with inner guidance, to go to that quiet inner place inside of myself and just listen? I’m also aware that given my current way of being, I need to simply let go of my need to be in charge or to find the answer. Letting go then becomes the hinge—the point where something happens, allowing for something to begin to form or to manifest by waiting, trusting some unseen process.

We live in a world that tells us we need to get out there, keep looking, keep seeking, keep trying to find answers wherever we can. Yet, what if the hinge is a place of letting go, of allowing for the opening of the door to our own inner sanctum, our private, secluded, internal place where our higher self resides, where our wisdom resides, where we come to touch into our own divinity.

Many of us were taught to believe that the divine was/is out there somewhere, up there away from us. Yet, perhaps, another hinge is allowing us to consider that maybe, just maybe, that inner sanctum is where everything is found, a place where gentle loving divine guidance finds us, in this place of quiet calm and peaceful solace where we can simply be, receiving much needed respite from a fast and noisy world.

Other times, we create a hinge, with or without our conscious knowing by taking a walk in nature to feel Earth beneath our feet, a breeze on our skin, the sight of the clouds or stars above in the sky, hearing the sound of a bird, or even further to taking in all of the sensual delights of whatever season or time of day we might find ourselves in. These hinges can sometimes bring forth inspiration, creativity, awe, or tap into long-held emotions that otherwise may not have had an outlet, along with fostering that deep connection we have with Mother Earth.

Perhaps a hinge is something else—journaling, singing, napping, dancing, or moving in a way that feels good, in a way that allows creativity to flow, gives space for a feeling of deep connection to something larger than ourselves, others, or brings deep joy, release, and/or love. In this connection with ourselves, our capacity to care for others is heightened and nurtured.

Still other times a hinge comes in the form of a dream, or the magical way in which sleep offers not only rest, but a time of unconscious quiet so profound that messages come through in dreams, or upon waking, an inner clarity regarding a previous question or concern we might have had before sleep took us. What does your body, mind, or spirit need to initiate an internal shift, to feel better, to feel more whole, peaceful and/or connected?

Let’s go back to the other meaning if hinge, the one having to do with doors and gates. What happens when we or others in our world become unhinged? To think more deeply into this is unsettling in a very present now sort of way, eh? Unhinged doors may one windy day be blown off and fly away leaving everything inside in a chaotic mess—for a time. Perhaps the unhinged way that our world is right now is the beginning of an opening, a portal rather than a door. A portal often is depicted as having no doors, it is often imagined as just a swirling vortex, to somewhere unknown, or in the case of our world, perhaps a place we haven’t been yet—that might be a good thing—I like to think so.

As we open our own inner gates and doors to the unconscious we find wonders waiting there for us. In these ways, opening, and stepping through can be the first and necessary step. There are so many openings, closings, beginnings and endings in our lives that happened as we took the initiative to just take a step, move through a threshold, look within, wonder…

What are your hinges?

All materials belong to Soltahr Tiv-Amanda: the site owner

The Finger Pointing at the Moon

For many years, I was a seeker, on a spiritual journey, which I guess, continues still, but it looks different now. Maybe it’s because I’m older, or perhaps because I have a deeper sense of who I am, what I honor, what is of importance to me, where I find myself internally. The seeking begins to look more like a deep dive into what lies within, rather than what is “out there”. The accumulation of knowledge, by nature, if one is conscious and is aware of the alchemy of doing so, can become wisdom.

I think for years, during the time I was seeking, finding teachers, and even being a teacher myself, I was always looking for something, hoping for some feeling, some big shift, some wild magical feeling to come over me and sweep me into another dimension, or something like that. I didn’t understand then, that the shift was always right here, right within me, and I could orchestrate and observe it.

In some ways, I think I was always looking at the finger pointing at the moon.

What I had to come to realize, or, well it took time and much inner work, dealing with my shadow, healing my wounded self, etc. etc. That what I’d been looking for was inside of me all along. As a young Christian, I was taught that “God” and/or Jesus was somewhere out there, high in the heavens, looking down on me, sinner that I was since the moment I was born.

It took years for me to undo this piece, as it also played quite well into how I was viewed as a young Black girl, then woman, by the outer world. I was seen as an unwanted dark stain. It has taken years of therapy, healing work, anti-colonial work, somatic abolition work (thank you Resmaa Menakem) to understand that, again, the outer world could view me in any way it wished, but in reality, how I viewed and understood myself to be was what mattered. Eventually, I have come to the conclusion that I could no longer belong to or adhere to any path that told me I was flawed, sinful, bad, or any of those ways in which the colonial, white supremacist, midset teaches us to think.

My time in my therapeutic training at Naropa was another finger pointing at the moon. I was urged to find a “teacher” a “guru” to follow. I rejected this outright. As a many years Earth based Goddess woman, I knew that there was no one human who knew everything or who could teach me what I needed to know. Along the way, I have been grateful for the many teachers of my lifetime, too many to name, from many places, some spiritual, some far from it. Some taught me beautiful lessons, others showed me a side of life that hurt to see, yet, in not turning away, I learned, and begin to shape, form and more deeply understand who I am, and how I want to be—not as a perfomance, but truly, who I am. At times, I had to become my own teacher, inquiring about my own impressions, emotions, and ways of seeing. In this way of learning to observe myself, the people and world around me, I have grown, I have deepened, I have, without ego, become wise.

I have come to a place where I am looking only at the moon, and there is no random, disembodied finger pointing at it, no unexamined teaching to accept, there is only what is in my own heart, my own body, my own mind, my own spirit. I must continually return there for my agency, my sovereignty, my joy, my understanding, my solace, my peace, my love. The finger is gone, now I only see the beautiful face of the moon, it (or she) is beautiful, inspiring.

Sweet story, when my granddaughter was an infant, my daughter would sing this one line from a song to her when she was being fussy, and sometimes she still does, and it always brings comfort: “I see the moon and the moon sees me” and I remember something, I am connected, the divine sees me, lives in me, is not out there somewhere, the moon is inside of me as well. There is spiritual liberation in feeing that, I feel free.

/