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a hammock made of golden threads


In October of 2011, I had a beautiful 3-way skype conversation with my friends Jane Brunette, who founded Writing from the Soul, and Clare Dakin who started Tree Sisters.  The three of us were spanning three continents, and many time zones, that day.  Jane had just woken up in her forest cabin in the mountains of Ecuador.  Clare was taking a break from a roller coaster work day in the hills of Gloucestershire in Western England.  And I was enjoying the quiet of the night in my little Balinese nest, perched on the top floor of a little house located between a rice field and a tropical garden in a village near Ubud.  As the three of us relaxed into a meditative exploration, allowing our words and conversation to naturally rise out of deep listening and nourishing  silence, we marveled that this call could take place at all, and that we could experience such deep connection across such long distances.  At some point, Clare sighed and commented that this time together felt like “resting in a hammock made of golden threads.” When we decided to free write together for a few minutes toward the end of our call, we looked back at our conversation for a writing prompt, and unanimously settled on Clare’s words.   Here is my five minute free write below.


A hammock made of golden thread,
a place to rest beyond conventional reality,
a place where magic can be born,
effortlessly, without all the striving
we’ve been taught is necessary
for wonders and miracles to show up.

Oh, to lounge in a hammock made of golden thread,
a thread that connects us to more and more women
who are willing to stop running around,
so that we can rest together,
rest in our awareness of what becomes possible
when we are able to deeply relax,
when we feel supported,
when we feel “golden.”

And when we experience that level of support,
when we experience that level of magic,
we could take on anything.

We might even try tight rope walking!

I had a vision of that a few weeks ago, in meditation.
I saw myself walking a tight rope.
I was surrounded by darkness, as if in the middle of the cosmos.
And I could feel the blackness calling me from all sides,
and inviting me to jump.

And in that moment, I realized how much I had been hanging on,
hanging on to the thread I had been following.
I suddenly felt a great fear of letting go of that thread, that rope,
and let myself free fall,
not knowing where I might go.

I faced my fear of death, feeling terrified of jumping.
Then I had an inner knowing I didn’t need to jump before I was ready.
It was enough to feel the invitation and the fear.

But now, I can see that if I were to rest in that golden hammock long enough,
I might find the courage and strength to let go of the rope
and discover what is possible
if I jump.