Saying Yes

John Lennon met Yoko Ono at an underground art show in London. One of her pieces was what looked like a white canvas mounted on the the ceiling, a magnifying glass dangling beneath. Patrons had to climb a stepladder to get a closer look. There, in tiny letters, was the word “YES.”

I’ve been trying to live into that “yes” of late, to remember the beauty that infuses the world. It’s easy to forget, caught in the hamster wheel of going and doing, or trapped in the worry circuit of my mind. Fear closes the heart faster than anything. Closed heart can’t remember beauty. Frenetic pace is too busy to see.

I experience “yes” as a kinesthetic opening: an elongation of my spine and a horizontal expansion of my chest. I take time to breathe into that expansion when I’m feeling harried, allowing breath to create the space my mind doesn’t think it can have.

In the mornings, I swing my feet to the floor and sit on the edge of the bed for a few moments, feeling for my “yes.” Some mornings it’s effortless to connect with it. Other times I feel the heaviness of being human. Breathing into my heart center helps me remember that there is something larger than this one moment. There is a “yes” waiting to be found.

I walked in a little grove of trees at a nearby park the other day, feeling flattened by a recent encounter with self-doubt. I thought of Jesus walking out in the world in the early morning to pray. I hadn’t prayed in a few days, and probably not in a very meaningful way in a while. I stood in that grove and I asked God for help. An hour later, I was home washing dishes and I realized my funk had lifted. I felt myself enveloped by that “yes.”

“You’re really here,” I marveled. “You asked,” I heard in return. Is it really that simple? I’ve experienced it that way so many times. It seems that the act of turning toward Source opens some kind of connection we forget about in our other hours. We ask and God answers. How much simpler could it be?

And then there’s the next day — sometimes the next moment — when we forget all over again. Fickle human beings. So we bring ourselves back once more. Maybe not with spoken prayer this time. Maybe with breath or with movement or with art. There are all kinds of ways to remember.

What are some of the ways you connect with your “yes”?