Ireland's Gift of Integration
Sitting cross-legged with eyes closed, tears of gratitude streamed down my cheeks as loneliness was released. It was my birthday, and life had led me to Northern Ireland—a land of mystics, mysteries, and my ancestors. At a retreat in a Benedictine friary, I received a gift I’d been seeking: integration.
Integration had eluded me for a long time. I often blamed moving continents as a child. When someone asked where I’m from, I never knew what to say. Are they asking where my parents are? Chicagoland. Are they asking where I was born? Iowa. Are they asking what city raised me? Moscow. Austin. DC. Nashville. New York. I also blamed my love of new things. You only have so many pegs on the wall, so many slots on the Lego—or so they say. So, to add something new I deleted something else. But deletion didn’t lead to more space or time; it led me to disintegration and loneliness.
I spent a lot of time with loneliness in 2023. It came to me when I was vulnerable and open, promising communion and pulling me in close. But loneliness was a weight, a gate between my soul and my mind. It channeled grief, not grace. (To head more about that season, please read my previous post.)
So, as I walked the rocky Irish trails, caressed the verdant moss, sat in communal silence, swam in the sea, and drank the wild air, I felt the loneliness leaving me alone. I became aware of the spaciousness of aloneness. I saw in the blue between the clouds. The distance between the branches. The space between the notes. The more I welcomed aloneness, the more connected I felt to everything around me and within me.
Out of this communion, insights began to emerge. Like little slips of paper were secretly being passed from my soul to my mind. Though very personal, I wonder if these messages might also be for you? Here are a few.
Life is abundant. Don’t let your current capacity limit your eternal capacity.
The galaxy is expanding, and so are you.
The falling leaves nourish the soil that feeds the tree that leads to flowers blossoming.
Where we are headed is the path we are on, just further up and further along.
Learn from the birds: let the thermal currents take you farther than your own power ever could. Like the seagulls gliding, the most beautiful flying is riding.
It takes courage to follow the flow; more courage than staying in control.
The most poignant, and personal, word came to me from another retreat participant: You are the song. You don’t need to sing for us to experience your joyful energy. Just you being here is enough.
Now back home in Winston-Salem, I’m inviting these insights to integrate into my daily life, my music, and my new record. I've been thinking about how my brothers often playful tease me by saying, "Tiffany is just happy to be here!" The youngest, the only daughter, the artist, I show up late and light-hearted to family gatherings. Usually the only thing I bring is me. But I can hear my soul gently whispering: what if being “just happy to be here” is what it’s all about? The simple joy of being alive surrounded by love, first from within, then from without.