• Jay Trisko

Are you listening to the universe right now?

Let's face it, its been a tough few months. As business owners, as service providers, as working parents, and it doesn't appear to be getting any easier anytime soon. Like many of us, I spent the first part of quarantine sequestered in my home teaching my kids, as my daily yoga, and weightlifting routine began to fade away and my weekly volleyball and basketball games became a thing of the past, so I started to ask myself, what am I going to do with this sudden lifestyle change, amd I going to do nothing or am I going to challenge myself to become better instead of withering away in the oblivion of home remodeling and roku binging?

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Well, I chose to challenge myself in finding new ways to explore more of myself and actually doing with disciopline, all of things I have said I would do when I used to use the crutch of using the excuse of being too busy,,,,,A part of that was reconnecting with my spirituality.

Then I came across this inspriing piece from forgre.com and felt it was an uber appropriate article to share on our page in hopes that it would inspire my yogis, chiropractors, physical therapists, and others who are in need of a swift kick in the you know what.


Rise to This As a Spiritual Challenge

written by Galen Guengerich

Disruption is an opportunity to cultivate the discipline of openness

When something — say, for instance, a pandemic — breaks through the patterns that shield us and the routines that insulate us, we have an opportunity to start paying attention to things we have long taken for granted. We have a chance to open our minds to a universe of experience that we have been missing. More than anything else, this presents us with a spiritual challenge.

From a cosmic perspective, our ignorance is vastly more complete than our knowledge. In many contexts, we don’t even know what we don’t know. The only reasonable response to this conundrum is to practice the spiritual discipline of radical openness — to take in everything we can.

Several years ago, I participated in a conference on spirituality and sustainable agriculture at Harvard Divinity School. One of the speakers, an undergraduate student named Sarah Williams, told us a story about how she’d been assigned to shadow a farmer near her university in Washington state. Williams explained that the farmer practiced biodynamic farming, and also happened to be Native American.

When she showed up at the farm for the first time, the farmer greeted her and then led her to a large tree standing on its own, somewhat away from the farm buildings. “Your work this semester,” the farmer told her, “is to sit with this tree.” She was dumbfounded: “But what am I supposed to do?” The farmer replied, “You are supposed to sit with the tree.”

For several hours each week for the rest of the semester, Williams sat with her tree. When she began in January, there wasn’t much to see at first, at least to her eye. Against the sky, the sturdy trunk stood tall and silent, the bare branches occasionally whipping in the wind. When it rained, she watched the water run down the bark and into the ground.

As she watched the water disappear, however, she realized that she could only see half of her tree — maybe even less than half. Its roots plunged deep into the earth below, holding tight against the wind, drawing water and nutrients from the soil and sending them upward into the trunk and out to the branches.

When spring came, she watched buds form on the branches and the leaves unfurl. She saw bugs appear on the bark, and birds show up to feed on them. She saw worms aerating and enriching the soil beneath the canopy — and birds feeding on the worms. Over time, she began to realize what the farmer wanted her to understand: Her tree was alive.


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