I’m studying a new pattern.
An artist I deeply admire recently stated something to this effect about a warrior mentality – that warriors don’t rely on chance, rather, they carefully observe and study patterns and intentionally repeat and re-create circumstances in order to achieve success or victory.
The pattern I am privy to so far in 2012 is God’s orchestration of events in order to produce a result I have been slack in bringing to pass.
Example No 1. - In June of last year, I began keeping a very specific and detailed prayer list. Those who know me well know I swear by the discipline of writing things down. I’m a writer, so writing just makes sense to me. And I rely heavily on Habakkuk 2:2 to support the discipline spiritually. Writing is a way of manifesting, and on a simpler level, it clears the head.
Anyways, back to my specific and detailed prayer list. I had a section for others needs and a personal section, for my own needs. From the start, I wrote nearly each time I updated it (most often weekly) in my personal section – “Move to LA.” Now for those not familiar with Los Angeles, it’s a huge sprawling city, within a county, also called Los Angeles. I’d been living under the radar near the mountains above Pasadena – a more suburban section of the county about a 20 minutes drive from downtown Los Angeles (Staples Center) and from there, Hollywood, Beverly Hills, Venice, etc. I’d lived in Hollywood before, but I had some concerns about moving back. Yet always I knew, being in LA had purpose. Where I live is in many ways, like a calling for me. So every week, for months, I wrote this down on the list “Move to LA.” The prayer became so specific that I even began to believe God was actually urging me not just to move anywhere in LA, but to Beverly Hills of all places.
I deliberated, for months, considering the financial reality of the move – dismal to say the least. Nevertheless, I apartment hunted a bit. Then sometime around October or November, after following a lead on an ad listing, a visit to the place, and a follow-up lunch, I found myself being courted by a very nice young lady who was looking for a roommate. In LA. She had others interested, but one day she called and said she chose me! I turned it down flatly. The holidays came and went, and I was still up in the hills of Pasadena, hiding, doubting that I had what I needed – financially and emotionally, to make the move. In short, I was stuck.
Here comes the pattern. I returned to LA after the holidays without enough money to pay my rent. My landlord, a poor spirited, unreasonable man, managing just two units in a guest house on the back of his property, refused to offer me any grace with the rent. Now, I’d paid my rent to him consistently for a year and a half but he wanted me out. Immediately at first, then after a heart to heart opted instead to offer me 30 days notice to move and an end our month-to-month lease agreement. A fine solution for him, but left me, already severely challenged financially, with little to no security deposit I would have needed to make a move with. His lack of consideration was shocking. It just didn’t make any sense considering our history?
Until, it hit me. God was moving me out! It was apparent for months prior to these events that the Spirit was nudging me to move to LA. My prayer lists were a paper trail of evidence to that effect. As my eyes were opened to the spiritual action at play, I made the decision to move, immediately. I didn’t wait the 30 days. I just cleaned out in one weekend, with the help of some angel friends and left it behind. A lot happened in the two months that followed, delay, delay, delay, etc., etc., etc. - but to summarize the story, two weeks ago, I moved to Bel Air. Beverly Hills adjacent.
Example No. 2 - I was just about to relax in the promised land after the harrowing journey out of Egypt when I crashed my car on Sunset Blvd one rainy Sunday morning on my way to church. Are you kidding me?! Amazingly, no one was injured and I was able to drive my car home and to a mechanic the next day. He sent me to his body repair guy who told me it would cost around $1200 to repair the damage. That, plus a separate mechanical issue estimated at around $300-400 left me at a loss for words.
The clincher? My insurance policy won’t cover damages to my vehicle.
The dilemna? Repair my car or get a new one.
Somewhere in the wilderness between Pasadena and Bel Air, I lost the discipline of keeping my prayer list. But at the top of the year, for the first New Moon, I kept my discipline of writing out my resolutions and intentions for the year. Under my “Wishes for things I want to manifest” clear as day is written – “A new car.” And when I looked back through my prayer lists while writing this post, everywhere I wrote “Move to LA” not far behind is - “New car.”
My friends, I haven’t the money to consider buying a car. Nor a proper credit score to finance one. The audacity of me…to even consider such an action, when I have bills I can’t pay and debt to budget.
But when God does something twice in a row, forcing me to move out of my comfort zone and in the direction of my true heart’s desire, I’d be a faithless fool to ignore it.
Mercedes, here I come ;)
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
New Year, New Moon Intentions
I did this exercise last year and it was a really powerful practice. Doing it again and sharing it with you.
Make it a new year - set goals, make a choice, let things go. Here is a quick guide for how to go about it. Spend some time today in meditation and reflection and watch how God supports you.
Make it a new year - set goals, make a choice, let things go. Here is a quick guide for how to go about it. Spend some time today in meditation and reflection and watch how God supports you.
Write your resolutions and intentions for the year and set your priorities. Make a list of what you need to release and burn it. Your intention lists can be in 3 categories:
1) Goals: for what you want to accomplish in 2012
2) Wishes: for things you want to manifest
3) Resolutions: for behaviors and attitudes and practices you wish to include.
4) What you need to release.
Make a promise to yourself that you will not leave anything for tomorrow that can be done today. "Do it now" should be a mantra for this time frame. Things are moving so quickly these days that anything procrastinated will be just that much harder to catch up with. If it doesn't get done, ask yourself if it is that important. If it is, then do it now. If not, let it go.
This is a good day to reset what is important. Be conscious of this as you write or rewrite your lists. The new moon is always a still point and a good time to indicate change. Just make sure it is something you are fully 100% behind as anything you decide will be supported fully, so choose wisely.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Advent Meditation
It is the second week of Advent - the beginning of a new year in the Orthodox Christian tradition and one of my favorite seasons in the liturgical calendar. Advent is all about expectation and anticipation...and I certainly know how to expect and anticipate well!
Advent prepares us for the arrival of something expected, which often requires a season of waiting...hence, the anticipation element. It is wise, always, to consider the journey to the gift...like the wise men following the star to the Christ child.
There can be no Christmas without Advent. And there can be no journey without others - friends, family, spiritual companions.
I came across these questions for Advent reflection from a workshop I did this time last year in one of my spiritual direction training classes and I thought it fitting to share them with you all. It's an excellent way to prepare for Christmas, and the new year - whether it has already begun for you, or is about to ;)
I pray they help to anchor you into this season of Blessed Hope.
1. What is God waiting for you to notice?
2. How might you prime yourself to notice, to be more aware of God's presence and action in your life?
3. What is growing within you?
4. Where are you on your journey?
5. Has your path been straight or crooked?
6. Who is accompanying you on your path?
7. What is your deepest desire?
8. Can you see where you are being led?
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Wait for it
So I waited and waited
Turned off my world
Stopped chasing
Ceased to be available
Lost touch
Disconnected
Detached
Turned in
Tuned out
Sang with saints
All was quiet
First the rains came
Then gray skies
Dry winds
Shortness of breath
Voice lost in vast emptiness
I walked on
Beyond knowing
Mysterious surroundings
One familiar face
Peace I found
Contentment is home
There my heart is.
Time to cross over
giants or no.
Jordan's song.
Prayer in motion
Peace in chaos
Stillness on the fly
Milk and honey overflowing
Turned off my world
Stopped chasing
Ceased to be available
Lost touch
Disconnected
Detached
Turned in
Tuned out
Sang with saints
All was quiet
First the rains came
Then gray skies
Dry winds
Shortness of breath
Voice lost in vast emptiness
I walked on
Beyond knowing
Mysterious surroundings
One familiar face
Peace I found
Contentment is home
There my heart is.
Time to cross over
giants or no.
Jordan's song.
Prayer in motion
Peace in chaos
Stillness on the fly
Milk and honey overflowing
The Place of Splendor by Jessica Powers
Little one, wait.
Let me assure you this is not the way
to gain the terminal of outer day.
Its single gate
lies in your soul, and you must rise and go
by inward passage from what earth you know.
The steps lead down
through valley after valley, far and far
past the five countries where the pleasures are,
and past all known
maps of the mind and every colored chart
and past the final outcry of the heart.
No soul can view
its own geography; love does not live
in places open and informative.
Yet, being true,
it grants to each its Raphael across
the mist and night through unknown lands of loss.
Wait till you hear
light told in music that was never heard,
and softness spoken that was not a word.
The soul grows clear
when senses fuse: sight, touch and sound are one
with savor and scent, and all to splendor run.
The smothered roar
of the eternities, their vast unrest
and infinite peace are deep in your own breast.
That light-swept shore
will shame the data of grief upon your scroll.
Child, have none told you? God is in your soul.
Let me assure you this is not the way
to gain the terminal of outer day.
Its single gate
lies in your soul, and you must rise and go
by inward passage from what earth you know.
The steps lead down
through valley after valley, far and far
past the five countries where the pleasures are,
and past all known
maps of the mind and every colored chart
and past the final outcry of the heart.
No soul can view
its own geography; love does not live
in places open and informative.
Yet, being true,
it grants to each its Raphael across
the mist and night through unknown lands of loss.
Wait till you hear
light told in music that was never heard,
and softness spoken that was not a word.
The soul grows clear
when senses fuse: sight, touch and sound are one
with savor and scent, and all to splendor run.
The smothered roar
of the eternities, their vast unrest
and infinite peace are deep in your own breast.
That light-swept shore
will shame the data of grief upon your scroll.
Child, have none told you? God is in your soul.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
I wanna be a contender
Genesis 32: 24-31
And Jacob was left alone; and there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day. And when he saw that he prevailed not against him, he touched the hollow of his thigh; and the hollow of Jacob's thigh was out of joint, as he wrestled with him. And he said, Let me go, for the day breaketh. And he said, I will not let thee go, except thou bless me. And he said unto him, What is thy name? And he said, Jacob. And he said, Thy name shall be called no more Jacob, but Israel: for as a prince hast thou power with God and with men, and hast prevailed. And Jacob asked him, and said, Tell me, I pray thee, thy name. And he said, Wherefore is it that thou dost ask after my name? And he blessed him there. And Jacob called the name of the place Peniel: for I have seen God face to face, and my life is preserved. And as he passed over Penuel the sun rose upon him, and he halted upon his thigh.
When you encounter the same passage of scripture, two days in a row, and in different settings, it's likely God is trying to tell you something.
So, I inquired of the Lord - "What is the meaning of this passage? What would you have me to know?" And here is my response from the Lord:
Jacob wrestled with a man, all night long. When the man says, "Let me go," Jacob refuses and does not succeed to the command, insisting rather that his contender bless him. When the man, who Jacob realizes is God Himself in the form of an angel, assigns him a name, he chooses, "Israel," meaning "Prince of God," saying: "for as a prince hast thou power with God and with men, and hast prevailed."
God acknowledges in this statement Jacob's power over men. Jacob, (meaning supplanter, schemer or trickster), who had manipulated his brother Esau's blessing for himself, and later dealt trickily with Laban the father of his wives, leaving him (just prior to this scene), a rich man with two wives and many possessions. Interestingly, Jacob at this moment of being named, "Prince of God," stands literally between both men he has prevailed over - Laban behind him, and Esau before him.
But why God's acknowledgment in the name of having prevailed, even, over God? Why did God not rebuke Jacob, saying, "I told you to let go and you did not heed"...the dislocated hip a minor consequence of refusing to hear the voice of God? And what does this fractured hip represent? Our inability to encounter God unscathed? The story itself perhaps a reflection on the necessity of struggle in order to have a real encounter with God? I asked, "What would have happened if Jacob had just, let go? Nothing? No blessing? No new name? No Israel?
It is as though God desired an Israel who possessed the tenacity of spirit to wrestle Him. One with the stamina to insist upon struggle all night until daybreak.
What good, for God's purposes for this world, is a servant (Israel) who gives up in the dark hour, who cannot sustain until dawn's rising? ...one who cannot bear a minor, yet painful, injury like an out of joint thigh bone? What good for God's purposes in this world is one who cannot prevail?
God met Jacob there on purpose. To show him and all Israel to come, that if you wrestle through the midnight hour, dawn comes; and with its rising, your blessing, and even more than you ask for - a whole new name.
"Princess of God," He calls me now, "for as a princess, you have power with God and with men, and prevail."
Selah
Interesting notes on the Hebrew meaning of the name Israel
On the Waterfront (classic movie clip)
And Jacob was left alone; and there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day. And when he saw that he prevailed not against him, he touched the hollow of his thigh; and the hollow of Jacob's thigh was out of joint, as he wrestled with him. And he said, Let me go, for the day breaketh. And he said, I will not let thee go, except thou bless me. And he said unto him, What is thy name? And he said, Jacob. And he said, Thy name shall be called no more Jacob, but Israel: for as a prince hast thou power with God and with men, and hast prevailed. And Jacob asked him, and said, Tell me, I pray thee, thy name. And he said, Wherefore is it that thou dost ask after my name? And he blessed him there. And Jacob called the name of the place Peniel: for I have seen God face to face, and my life is preserved. And as he passed over Penuel the sun rose upon him, and he halted upon his thigh.
When you encounter the same passage of scripture, two days in a row, and in different settings, it's likely God is trying to tell you something.
So, I inquired of the Lord - "What is the meaning of this passage? What would you have me to know?" And here is my response from the Lord:
Jacob wrestled with a man, all night long. When the man says, "Let me go," Jacob refuses and does not succeed to the command, insisting rather that his contender bless him. When the man, who Jacob realizes is God Himself in the form of an angel, assigns him a name, he chooses, "Israel," meaning "Prince of God," saying: "for as a prince hast thou power with God and with men, and hast prevailed."
God acknowledges in this statement Jacob's power over men. Jacob, (meaning supplanter, schemer or trickster), who had manipulated his brother Esau's blessing for himself, and later dealt trickily with Laban the father of his wives, leaving him (just prior to this scene), a rich man with two wives and many possessions. Interestingly, Jacob at this moment of being named, "Prince of God," stands literally between both men he has prevailed over - Laban behind him, and Esau before him.
But why God's acknowledgment in the name of having prevailed, even, over God? Why did God not rebuke Jacob, saying, "I told you to let go and you did not heed"...the dislocated hip a minor consequence of refusing to hear the voice of God? And what does this fractured hip represent? Our inability to encounter God unscathed? The story itself perhaps a reflection on the necessity of struggle in order to have a real encounter with God? I asked, "What would have happened if Jacob had just, let go? Nothing? No blessing? No new name? No Israel?
It is as though God desired an Israel who possessed the tenacity of spirit to wrestle Him. One with the stamina to insist upon struggle all night until daybreak.
What good, for God's purposes for this world, is a servant (Israel) who gives up in the dark hour, who cannot sustain until dawn's rising? ...one who cannot bear a minor, yet painful, injury like an out of joint thigh bone? What good for God's purposes in this world is one who cannot prevail?
God met Jacob there on purpose. To show him and all Israel to come, that if you wrestle through the midnight hour, dawn comes; and with its rising, your blessing, and even more than you ask for - a whole new name.
"Princess of God," He calls me now, "for as a princess, you have power with God and with men, and prevail."
Selah
Interesting notes on the Hebrew meaning of the name Israel
On the Waterfront (classic movie clip)
Monday, July 11, 2011
Settling into
I've been obsessively watching Oprah.com Behind the Scenes video clips for the last 48 hours. Suddenly, after over a year of no television in my home, I'm having a burning desire to watch things, anything. I didn't see a single episode of Oprah's final season, except the last 3 finale shows which I asked my mother to DVR for me so I could watch during a visit to Maryland for my birthday. But now, I've watched all this footage of her, with her producers, creating content for the monumental 25 year in the making finale season of episodes. It is quite riveting to see a woman like Oprah at work. Confessing she has no life outside of Harpo Studios, surprisingly cool about the end of a thing that has been her life for 25 years, watching everyone passionately work for her, truly believing they are changing the world with the content they produce. Everyone has an opinion about Oprah, and the more I watch, I have my own. But one of the most significant things I have learned from watching all of these videos, is something about the grace, strength, and wisdom Oprah exhibits, in keeping opinions about others, to herself. She appears to genuinely accept people for who they are. So I shall follow in her magnanimous footsteps, and just share something I learned from my Oprah meditation. (Yes, I can turn anything, even obsessive Oprah video clip watching, into a spiritual discipline ;)
My Oprah lesson is about journaling. There's a segment when the ladies of The View come to visit. They're all gathered in Oprah's office after taping the show and Oprah's showing Whoopi something she journaled about her back in their Color Purple days. Barbara Walters asks Oprah if she's always journaled, and Oprah says, "Yes. I've been journaling since I was 15." They're all fascinated by that. Not even Barbara Walters journals. And Oprah's fascinated by that. "How do you remember things? How did you write your book?" she asks Barbara.
I was fascinated by this similarity I share with Oprah...
My first ever journal entry is from 1991. I was 11 years old. What fascinates me more than the content of that particular journal, is the discipline I had to journal at that age. Almost every day there was an entry. Oh, it was just a short little paragraph, but an entry nonetheless. Here's a sample from today's date, July 11, 1991. It was another summer in Virginia at my grandparents country house by the Potomac River.
Dear Diary,
We went crabbing and caught 12. Then Granddaddy went again and caught about 7.
Bye,
Colleen Thomas
Lol.
Later, throughout my teen years, from about 1993-1998, I only have one journal. And most of the content is about being fat, trying to lose weight, complaining about my parents, friends, and boys I liked but never hooked up with.
After those years, my discipline increased. I began to fill one journal a year, one every 6 months...up to today. Now I average about one journal every two months.
And I began to see traces of my conversations with God emerge as the depth of the content increased.
Even Oprah admits that her 20's journals were all, "Woe is me" and obsessing about men. When I told my mother about my discovery of how life seemed to be from the perspective of my journals, compared to my actual memories of life at those periods of time (which, Thank God, is considerably more favorable), she shared a wisdom I gleaned from Oprah's confession. Mother said it's likely when we're young we tend to dwell on the have-nots. At those ages, I could only see what was happening to Me, unable to fully reflect on all of the nuances of feeling and experience that wisdom offers a more mature woman's perspective. When we're young, we are less likely to accept realities - that circumstances, good and bad, are there to grow us up; that the world doesn't revolve around us; that the purpose of being alive in God's world isn't to get everything we want.
Thank goodness I don't live with the mind of my teenage, 20-something self. And you know, as I write, I think what sparked such an intense interest in watching Oprah, was a similar sense of enjoyment I find being in the company of older women who are so much more settled in life. And not settled in a material sense of the word - that they've got their this and their that...but truly settled with life, with circumstances, no matter what has come. There are no regrets, life has been resolved, they've closed the book on worrying. They no longer view destiny as something to be controlled or manipulated. Rather, they have learned to accept all of life as destiny. Whatever dreams may...
As I reflected on another year coming, I experienced a noticeable settling. I was "at home" in Maryland with my parents...and at home in my heart with Life.
In my 20's I feared settling. It meant to me, giving up, forgetting my dreams. But I see I was limited in my understanding of its meaning. To settle does not just imply an end of a matter despite being wholly satisfied, like settling for something. Nor does it only imply giving up "the dream" for an ordinary, stable life, like settling down. No. To settle also can suggest a movement towards calmness or comfort...to become quiet in your soul. There is much beauty in that.
"Blessed are you when you are who you are," someone just preached to me. My journals teach me that.
No, I am not all I want to be yet. But I am rich in spirit. Because I am not living in fear that I'll never be all I want to be. And you know, I'll go one step further. Because my birthday revelation is even deeper than that. I'm not living in fear that if I am never all I want to be, I'll live in fear.
Now, that is peace beyond understanding.
Bye,
Colleen Thomas
My Oprah lesson is about journaling. There's a segment when the ladies of The View come to visit. They're all gathered in Oprah's office after taping the show and Oprah's showing Whoopi something she journaled about her back in their Color Purple days. Barbara Walters asks Oprah if she's always journaled, and Oprah says, "Yes. I've been journaling since I was 15." They're all fascinated by that. Not even Barbara Walters journals. And Oprah's fascinated by that. "How do you remember things? How did you write your book?" she asks Barbara.
I was fascinated by this similarity I share with Oprah...
My first ever journal entry is from 1991. I was 11 years old. What fascinates me more than the content of that particular journal, is the discipline I had to journal at that age. Almost every day there was an entry. Oh, it was just a short little paragraph, but an entry nonetheless. Here's a sample from today's date, July 11, 1991. It was another summer in Virginia at my grandparents country house by the Potomac River.
Dear Diary,
We went crabbing and caught 12. Then Granddaddy went again and caught about 7.
Bye,
Colleen Thomas
Lol.
Later, throughout my teen years, from about 1993-1998, I only have one journal. And most of the content is about being fat, trying to lose weight, complaining about my parents, friends, and boys I liked but never hooked up with.
After those years, my discipline increased. I began to fill one journal a year, one every 6 months...up to today. Now I average about one journal every two months.
And I began to see traces of my conversations with God emerge as the depth of the content increased.
Even Oprah admits that her 20's journals were all, "Woe is me" and obsessing about men. When I told my mother about my discovery of how life seemed to be from the perspective of my journals, compared to my actual memories of life at those periods of time (which, Thank God, is considerably more favorable), she shared a wisdom I gleaned from Oprah's confession. Mother said it's likely when we're young we tend to dwell on the have-nots. At those ages, I could only see what was happening to Me, unable to fully reflect on all of the nuances of feeling and experience that wisdom offers a more mature woman's perspective. When we're young, we are less likely to accept realities - that circumstances, good and bad, are there to grow us up; that the world doesn't revolve around us; that the purpose of being alive in God's world isn't to get everything we want.
Thank goodness I don't live with the mind of my teenage, 20-something self. And you know, as I write, I think what sparked such an intense interest in watching Oprah, was a similar sense of enjoyment I find being in the company of older women who are so much more settled in life. And not settled in a material sense of the word - that they've got their this and their that...but truly settled with life, with circumstances, no matter what has come. There are no regrets, life has been resolved, they've closed the book on worrying. They no longer view destiny as something to be controlled or manipulated. Rather, they have learned to accept all of life as destiny. Whatever dreams may...
As I reflected on another year coming, I experienced a noticeable settling. I was "at home" in Maryland with my parents...and at home in my heart with Life.
In my 20's I feared settling. It meant to me, giving up, forgetting my dreams. But I see I was limited in my understanding of its meaning. To settle does not just imply an end of a matter despite being wholly satisfied, like settling for something. Nor does it only imply giving up "the dream" for an ordinary, stable life, like settling down. No. To settle also can suggest a movement towards calmness or comfort...to become quiet in your soul. There is much beauty in that.
"Blessed are you when you are who you are," someone just preached to me. My journals teach me that.
No, I am not all I want to be yet. But I am rich in spirit. Because I am not living in fear that I'll never be all I want to be. And you know, I'll go one step further. Because my birthday revelation is even deeper than that. I'm not living in fear that if I am never all I want to be, I'll live in fear.
Now, that is peace beyond understanding.
Bye,
Colleen Thomas
Thursday, April 28, 2011
love your enemies
Seems like these days everywhere I go there's somebody I don't like. Seriously.
This morning it was yoga. With the teacher I don't like. I know why I don't like her, but I'm trying not to "slander" or gossip, so I'll refrain from giving details. The simple version is, I'd rather not take her class. And there I was this morning, hardly excited to be arriving to do yoga in the first place, greeted by her, then listening to her voice in class. For 90 minutes.
As I meditated on the ceiling panel tiles in each savasana, my point of focus was on the cross where the panels intersect. Instructors teach us to empty our minds, but mine never empties, no matter how hard I try. And these days I question if I believe in that style of meditation anyways. Scripture says, meditate on the Word. So now I meditate on the Cross formed by the ceiling panel tiles.
This morning, still in Easter according to the liturgical calendar, the Cross revealed deep truths. I thought of Jesus, suffering as he did, and my mantra came by the Spirit saying, "Love your enemies." Every savasana, that's what I heard when I hit the floor. And I knew exactly what that meant for me. It's not just the yoga teacher.
Having enemies is an easy concept to disregard. When I think enemy I think someone I hate, maybe want to do bodily harm to, like slash their car tires or something crazy. I don't have any enemies in that sense of the word! But enemies like, those who I'd rather not see, or speak to, or take class from; those who have offended me, annoyed me, disregarded me - well, then...I've got a few of those. I must admit.
The other day, my spiritual director told me she's only been unconditionally loved by two people her whole life - one was a dog, the other was a priest. I felt kinda sad for her as I walked away from her office because as I reflected upon my own life, I could think of many people who love me unconditionally. And unconditionally love me they must! I reflected on things I've done to my sisters, friends, roommates, colleagues... And I had to be honest with myself. Had others done to me, what I'd done to some, I'd likely not still love them. Oh, I might act like I do, but in truth, I am ashamed to admit, I would not truly. I want people to be a certain way, and when they are not, as I realized this morning in my meditation upon the ceiling panel Cross, I make them my enemies. Maybe not in action, but in my heart.
In preparation for this Easter season I re-read the account of Jesus' betrayal, death, and resurrection in the Gospel of John. Jesus predicts that Simon Peter would betray him. And after he leaves the Garden where he's been praying that God might let the cup of suffering soon to come pass from him, he returns to find his companions sleeping, and says dishearteningly, "Could you not stay awake with me one hour?" He knows his friends don't have the "stuff" to follow him all the way to the end. And he was right. They didn't. In the end, they all abandon him, and deny him, disassociate themselves from him out of fear, maybe even disappointment. Fear of the authorities, that may kill them too. Disappointment that maybe their great teacher and friend, wasn't who he said he was after all. They all betrayed him. Every one.
But you know what Jesus says when he reappears to them, on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias...after the disciples come to find the tomb empty, and Jesus' body mysteriously missing? Jesus says to them, "Come and have breakfast with me?" That's all. They all betrayed him. And instead of making them his enemies, he invites them to dine with him. He even serves their food.
That is a powerful love. I fall sadly short of that kind of love. Sadly, sadly short.
Richard Rohr, says this about enemies:
This is the reason why in the spiritual life our enemies are our best friends. That is why Jesus' command "Love your enemies" is so important. When we keep the enemy outside the door, when we don't allow the not-I to enter our world, we'll never be able to look our sin or our dark side in the face. Men and women who get on my nerves, who threaten me and cause me anxiety, need not become my bosom friends, but they have an important message for me...there are certain types who are by nature threatening to us because they discover our game-or because they don't need our game.
He's dead on. There is more like me in those I make my enemies than I have the courage to confront. The "not-I's" are usually the I's that I haven't the heart to look at in the face.
But thanks be to God. For Jesus. And for grace.
Driving home from the yoga studio this afternoon, in my heart I committed myself to return to that girl's yoga class. Next week. Same time, same place. Because I must learn to love my enemies. There is no other way. Well, in truth, there is always another way...but I don't want that way. That is the way to waking up one day and finding myself all by myself.
This morning it was yoga. With the teacher I don't like. I know why I don't like her, but I'm trying not to "slander" or gossip, so I'll refrain from giving details. The simple version is, I'd rather not take her class. And there I was this morning, hardly excited to be arriving to do yoga in the first place, greeted by her, then listening to her voice in class. For 90 minutes.
As I meditated on the ceiling panel tiles in each savasana, my point of focus was on the cross where the panels intersect. Instructors teach us to empty our minds, but mine never empties, no matter how hard I try. And these days I question if I believe in that style of meditation anyways. Scripture says, meditate on the Word. So now I meditate on the Cross formed by the ceiling panel tiles.
This morning, still in Easter according to the liturgical calendar, the Cross revealed deep truths. I thought of Jesus, suffering as he did, and my mantra came by the Spirit saying, "Love your enemies." Every savasana, that's what I heard when I hit the floor. And I knew exactly what that meant for me. It's not just the yoga teacher.
Having enemies is an easy concept to disregard. When I think enemy I think someone I hate, maybe want to do bodily harm to, like slash their car tires or something crazy. I don't have any enemies in that sense of the word! But enemies like, those who I'd rather not see, or speak to, or take class from; those who have offended me, annoyed me, disregarded me - well, then...I've got a few of those. I must admit.
The other day, my spiritual director told me she's only been unconditionally loved by two people her whole life - one was a dog, the other was a priest. I felt kinda sad for her as I walked away from her office because as I reflected upon my own life, I could think of many people who love me unconditionally. And unconditionally love me they must! I reflected on things I've done to my sisters, friends, roommates, colleagues... And I had to be honest with myself. Had others done to me, what I'd done to some, I'd likely not still love them. Oh, I might act like I do, but in truth, I am ashamed to admit, I would not truly. I want people to be a certain way, and when they are not, as I realized this morning in my meditation upon the ceiling panel Cross, I make them my enemies. Maybe not in action, but in my heart.
In preparation for this Easter season I re-read the account of Jesus' betrayal, death, and resurrection in the Gospel of John. Jesus predicts that Simon Peter would betray him. And after he leaves the Garden where he's been praying that God might let the cup of suffering soon to come pass from him, he returns to find his companions sleeping, and says dishearteningly, "Could you not stay awake with me one hour?" He knows his friends don't have the "stuff" to follow him all the way to the end. And he was right. They didn't. In the end, they all abandon him, and deny him, disassociate themselves from him out of fear, maybe even disappointment. Fear of the authorities, that may kill them too. Disappointment that maybe their great teacher and friend, wasn't who he said he was after all. They all betrayed him. Every one.
But you know what Jesus says when he reappears to them, on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias...after the disciples come to find the tomb empty, and Jesus' body mysteriously missing? Jesus says to them, "Come and have breakfast with me?" That's all. They all betrayed him. And instead of making them his enemies, he invites them to dine with him. He even serves their food.
That is a powerful love. I fall sadly short of that kind of love. Sadly, sadly short.
Richard Rohr, says this about enemies:
This is the reason why in the spiritual life our enemies are our best friends. That is why Jesus' command "Love your enemies" is so important. When we keep the enemy outside the door, when we don't allow the not-I to enter our world, we'll never be able to look our sin or our dark side in the face. Men and women who get on my nerves, who threaten me and cause me anxiety, need not become my bosom friends, but they have an important message for me...there are certain types who are by nature threatening to us because they discover our game-or because they don't need our game.
He's dead on. There is more like me in those I make my enemies than I have the courage to confront. The "not-I's" are usually the I's that I haven't the heart to look at in the face.
But thanks be to God. For Jesus. And for grace.
Driving home from the yoga studio this afternoon, in my heart I committed myself to return to that girl's yoga class. Next week. Same time, same place. Because I must learn to love my enemies. There is no other way. Well, in truth, there is always another way...but I don't want that way. That is the way to waking up one day and finding myself all by myself.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Royalty
I've been meditating on what it means to be a Queen. The term has become a bit cliche, especially in Afro-centric circles...its nothing new for women to call themselves, and be called by others, "Queen."
But it is not merely a term of endearment evoking a sense of arrogant entitlement. Literally, God calls us his royal priesthood, (1 Peter 2:9) and tells us we are a chosen people.
Years ago I read a book by T.D. Jakes called The Lady, Her Lover, and Her Lord that literally changed. my. life. It was published in 2000, well before Jakes became famous for his best-selling, Woman Thou Art Loosed. I couldn't tell you key points from the book (I just ordered it from Amazon.com to re-read) but I can recall with longing recollection how God used that book to deliver me from a then sub-standard lifestyle.
In the decade that has passed since that book transformed my life, I've noticed a slow, subtle decline in my awareness of my royal status. I can be honest with myself and admit that somewhere along the recent way, I began to make choices that were not in my royal interest in order that I would fit in with popular culture. I actually wanted to be normal. I grew weary of maintaining royal standards of living that set one apart in ways that alienate you from others, from life itself it seemed. So I traded in my crown. I rejected my special God-given status as Queen and disguised myself as average. Just. like. everybody. else. It was a lie. But it was pretty easy to pull off. In a world of average, few questioned me.
What I have come to see in recent months as God slowly and painfully strips me of all the dust I've collected as I've traveled through common mans land, is that my resistance to being set apart from others and perceived as uppity or self-righteous has left me so utterly wounded, I feel nearly useless. And if I feel useless, how can I ever act out my God-given purpose and influence the land for good. If I feel useless, how can I accept God's ever-abiding love for me, without which it is impossible to even love myself, let alone love anyone else.
It is true, to be a Lady of the royal court, there are certain known restrictions on what type of activities you can engage in. And not everyone is admitted entry into a Lady's court, her inner circle.
I love period films, and historical fiction. Most recently, the movie The King's Speech, made me really consider the weight of royalty. People who are born into royalty do not ask for such a life. It is a calling that befalls them. It is an unsolicited birthright. It is fraught with great expectations. To choose self over position is almost never done. To be royal is to lead a life of duty, honor, and utmost reverence for tradition.
In a heavenly sense, to be royal is similar, but the driving force of the royal life is Love. As women called holy, we are the Beloved of God. So first and fore-mostly, to be royal is to lead a life of love, accepting how aggressively we are loved by God...and doing the best humanly possible to love our Lover back. And this is a most difficult undertaking. It requires extreme intention (and discipline) to love a God who mercifully loves us when our lives are filled with regret, when we are overwhelmed by shame as a result of thoughtless choices we've made that place us far, far, far below our calling.
To be Queen in God's heavenly royal court is more challenging than say, to be Queen of England. Her royal highness has the luxury of being surrounded by actual people who hold her accountable for every action she makes. Having that kind of accountability really does help order your steps.
But the truth is, in our modern world we are not without the option of creating an accountable court. I am blessed to have so many women of magnificent stature supporting me right now, encouraging me in the way of righteousness, nursing me back to royal health. Except they didn't appear out of no where. I prayed for them. I sought them out. I incline my heart to be open to their wisdom and advice. And to do so means then that I am vulnerable to rebuke, to judgment, to having someone shine a light on the dirty, dark places of my self I work over time to hide from the world.
See, that's the thing.
A Queen cannot hide.
That is one luxury, of all luxuries on earth and in heaven, she is not privy to.
And that hands down must be the most challenging aspect of accepting our Crown.
Fitting. The moon is Full again as I write. I've written before about how when a moon is Full she is fully exposed to the world. All her dark spots, all her craters. But my God, how she shines.
But it is not merely a term of endearment evoking a sense of arrogant entitlement. Literally, God calls us his royal priesthood, (1 Peter 2:9) and tells us we are a chosen people.
Years ago I read a book by T.D. Jakes called The Lady, Her Lover, and Her Lord that literally changed. my. life. It was published in 2000, well before Jakes became famous for his best-selling, Woman Thou Art Loosed. I couldn't tell you key points from the book (I just ordered it from Amazon.com to re-read) but I can recall with longing recollection how God used that book to deliver me from a then sub-standard lifestyle.
In the decade that has passed since that book transformed my life, I've noticed a slow, subtle decline in my awareness of my royal status. I can be honest with myself and admit that somewhere along the recent way, I began to make choices that were not in my royal interest in order that I would fit in with popular culture. I actually wanted to be normal. I grew weary of maintaining royal standards of living that set one apart in ways that alienate you from others, from life itself it seemed. So I traded in my crown. I rejected my special God-given status as Queen and disguised myself as average. Just. like. everybody. else. It was a lie. But it was pretty easy to pull off. In a world of average, few questioned me.
What I have come to see in recent months as God slowly and painfully strips me of all the dust I've collected as I've traveled through common mans land, is that my resistance to being set apart from others and perceived as uppity or self-righteous has left me so utterly wounded, I feel nearly useless. And if I feel useless, how can I ever act out my God-given purpose and influence the land for good. If I feel useless, how can I accept God's ever-abiding love for me, without which it is impossible to even love myself, let alone love anyone else.
It is true, to be a Lady of the royal court, there are certain known restrictions on what type of activities you can engage in. And not everyone is admitted entry into a Lady's court, her inner circle.
I love period films, and historical fiction. Most recently, the movie The King's Speech, made me really consider the weight of royalty. People who are born into royalty do not ask for such a life. It is a calling that befalls them. It is an unsolicited birthright. It is fraught with great expectations. To choose self over position is almost never done. To be royal is to lead a life of duty, honor, and utmost reverence for tradition.
In a heavenly sense, to be royal is similar, but the driving force of the royal life is Love. As women called holy, we are the Beloved of God. So first and fore-mostly, to be royal is to lead a life of love, accepting how aggressively we are loved by God...and doing the best humanly possible to love our Lover back. And this is a most difficult undertaking. It requires extreme intention (and discipline) to love a God who mercifully loves us when our lives are filled with regret, when we are overwhelmed by shame as a result of thoughtless choices we've made that place us far, far, far below our calling.
To be Queen in God's heavenly royal court is more challenging than say, to be Queen of England. Her royal highness has the luxury of being surrounded by actual people who hold her accountable for every action she makes. Having that kind of accountability really does help order your steps.
But the truth is, in our modern world we are not without the option of creating an accountable court. I am blessed to have so many women of magnificent stature supporting me right now, encouraging me in the way of righteousness, nursing me back to royal health. Except they didn't appear out of no where. I prayed for them. I sought them out. I incline my heart to be open to their wisdom and advice. And to do so means then that I am vulnerable to rebuke, to judgment, to having someone shine a light on the dirty, dark places of my self I work over time to hide from the world.
See, that's the thing.
A Queen cannot hide.
That is one luxury, of all luxuries on earth and in heaven, she is not privy to.
And that hands down must be the most challenging aspect of accepting our Crown.
Fitting. The moon is Full again as I write. I've written before about how when a moon is Full she is fully exposed to the world. All her dark spots, all her craters. But my God, how she shines.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Safety Measures
I care a great deal about others, but at present there's an air of selfishness surrounding me in order to protect myself from something. Suffering, maybe?
I haven't been able to figure out, neither through prayer nor reflection, if this is a safe position for me to maintain.
Safe? Not usually a word I take much interest in.
I had a tough conversation with a girlfriend a few weeks ago. She'd been vacillating between moving out of an apartment she'd lived in for five years and into a new place, in an entirely new neighborhood, away from the community she'd established for herself. My nature, being quick to assume, figured she was just scared to make a change. It would be natural, right?
Until we dug more together and got at the root of our differing perspectives.
I believe we all have a value system inherent in our make-up, a way of ordering our basic needs, those factors by which we construct a good life. I came to understand in listening to my friend who was insistent that she was not simply afraid, that at the top of her pyramid of values was Security. Moving wasn't worth the risk of abandoning her known world - neighbors who could look after her cat, easy access to her church community, etc.
I came to see that at the top of my value pyramid is Freedom. I cherish the freedom to move above all.
I spent two weeks in Paris alone. But within that short time I managed to create a whole new world for myself. A new neighborhood coffee buddy, a new lunch date, a new best friend (complete with two adorable kids), a new crush (essential ;), a new church home. I tend to build a support system quickly wherever I go, so moving becomes fairly inconsequential. Sure, there are comforts I prefer. Access to clean food, a local church, a good indie film theater, for example. But safety, well, that's never really been my style. Typically, when I start feeling safe, or notice a pattern of living safely, that's when I get freaked out and need to shake things up a bit. Security in life, I figure that's a later business venture. Right now, I'm on serious gypsy status.
Years ago a friend tells me, "Don't mistake your seeking God for selfishness." I often reflect on these words she shared...at the time perceiving they came more from the Spirit of God, than her own. But I'm often still uncertain about how to discern what is my own, what is God's. I struggle with feelings of my own selfishness, as much as I struggle with feelings of compassion for others who struggle.
This morning I read a reflection from Henri Nouwen, one of my fave authors and Christian spiritual thinkers. "Joy," he says, "is hidden in compassion." And he defines compassion as meaning literally, "to suffer with."
There have been certain instances in my life where I have absolutely walked away from another's suffering. But probably more moments when I have walked in solidarity. It is not safe to be present to another's pain, to live in solidarity with their weakness, or brokenness. If you are truly being present to another, their suffering does affect you. It is not a safe position to take, but it is Christ.
One of my favorite stories is from C.S. Lewis' The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Susan and Lucy listen as Mr. and Mrs. Beaver tell them about Aslan, the Lion, the King, whom they are soon to encounter. Mrs. Beaver gives quite the intimidating account of his stature. Susan responds with apprehension asking, "Oooh! Is he--quite safe?"
"Safe?" Mr. Beaver responds emphatically, "Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe, but he's good."
I haven't been able to figure out, neither through prayer nor reflection, if this is a safe position for me to maintain.
Safe? Not usually a word I take much interest in.
I had a tough conversation with a girlfriend a few weeks ago. She'd been vacillating between moving out of an apartment she'd lived in for five years and into a new place, in an entirely new neighborhood, away from the community she'd established for herself. My nature, being quick to assume, figured she was just scared to make a change. It would be natural, right?
Until we dug more together and got at the root of our differing perspectives.
I believe we all have a value system inherent in our make-up, a way of ordering our basic needs, those factors by which we construct a good life. I came to understand in listening to my friend who was insistent that she was not simply afraid, that at the top of her pyramid of values was Security. Moving wasn't worth the risk of abandoning her known world - neighbors who could look after her cat, easy access to her church community, etc.
I came to see that at the top of my value pyramid is Freedom. I cherish the freedom to move above all.
I spent two weeks in Paris alone. But within that short time I managed to create a whole new world for myself. A new neighborhood coffee buddy, a new lunch date, a new best friend (complete with two adorable kids), a new crush (essential ;), a new church home. I tend to build a support system quickly wherever I go, so moving becomes fairly inconsequential. Sure, there are comforts I prefer. Access to clean food, a local church, a good indie film theater, for example. But safety, well, that's never really been my style. Typically, when I start feeling safe, or notice a pattern of living safely, that's when I get freaked out and need to shake things up a bit. Security in life, I figure that's a later business venture. Right now, I'm on serious gypsy status.
Years ago a friend tells me, "Don't mistake your seeking God for selfishness." I often reflect on these words she shared...at the time perceiving they came more from the Spirit of God, than her own. But I'm often still uncertain about how to discern what is my own, what is God's. I struggle with feelings of my own selfishness, as much as I struggle with feelings of compassion for others who struggle.
This morning I read a reflection from Henri Nouwen, one of my fave authors and Christian spiritual thinkers. "Joy," he says, "is hidden in compassion." And he defines compassion as meaning literally, "to suffer with."
There have been certain instances in my life where I have absolutely walked away from another's suffering. But probably more moments when I have walked in solidarity. It is not safe to be present to another's pain, to live in solidarity with their weakness, or brokenness. If you are truly being present to another, their suffering does affect you. It is not a safe position to take, but it is Christ.
One of my favorite stories is from C.S. Lewis' The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Susan and Lucy listen as Mr. and Mrs. Beaver tell them about Aslan, the Lion, the King, whom they are soon to encounter. Mrs. Beaver gives quite the intimidating account of his stature. Susan responds with apprehension asking, "Oooh! Is he--quite safe?"
"Safe?" Mr. Beaver responds emphatically, "Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe, but he's good."
Friday, January 21, 2011
What causes resistance?
This full moon week has been one for the books. Lovely and illuminating. They say full moons can also bring culminations. I’ve been reading so much lately, so many blogs and articles and books. Somewhere, somebody wrote that we should document our successes. So, here goes one.
Just a few days ago I was chatting with a fellow yogini and artist about how to distinguish between feelings of resistance. Knowing when there is resistance to something potentially good for you (i.e. a hot sweaty yoga class), versus resisting something potentially harmful (i.e. a cancer inducing cigarette).
Sometimes the difference isn’t so obvious.
A week prior, I’d been chatting with another dear yogini about my struggle to complete a business proposal for my album project. Seems whenever I get close to completion or a breakthrough, Whoosh!, the forces of sabotage and evil are set upon me with a vengeance to ensure nothing I produce will ever see the light of finishing’s day. She told me about this book, The War of Art.
As the moon waxed full, I had the creepy familiar old feeling of a visitor coming back round to haunt me. I call him, Mister Boredom. He steals my joy, and leaves me feeling extremely, extremely ungrateful. You see, letting go is always risky business. Especially so when you take that extra unsafe approach and let go of something before you’ve been careful to replace it. That’s what was happening with me in regards to my choices about relationships. I made some very risky decisions, and I was beginning to feel extremely vulnerable, and alone.
I was invited to a girlfriend’s birthday party in Venice. Well, I call this girl, friend, loosely. We are more like acquaintances. But she is a very talented and very cool chic. And in light of my new year, new moon intentions to let go of some old friendships and cultivate new, I felt particularly inclined to go to this party. Not just because I was invited, but in hopes that by participating in her celebration, we might actually become better friends. I felt the invitation was God supporting my intentions.
Then the strangest thing happened the day of the party.
I'd wanted to go, but as the hour drew nearer, the thought of going became filled with dread. I fought with myself the whole way. Even after I started the car and took off down the hill, I wanted to turn around. I prayed, annoyed. “God, show me how to know when I’m resisting something that will actually be for my good?”
My prayer was answered simply. I kept driving. I had an amazing time at that party. I made new friends, and fans. I shared a song for the birthday girl and gently rocked the crowd, moved the birthday girl to tears. The occasion wouldn’t have been the same without me...in some odd, unpretentious way.
The boredom that was settling evaporated.
Now I know the face of fear, its tricky ways. Illogical and manipulating. Showing up uninvited, trying to change my plans…
Just a few days ago I was chatting with a fellow yogini and artist about how to distinguish between feelings of resistance. Knowing when there is resistance to something potentially good for you (i.e. a hot sweaty yoga class), versus resisting something potentially harmful (i.e. a cancer inducing cigarette).
Sometimes the difference isn’t so obvious.
A week prior, I’d been chatting with another dear yogini about my struggle to complete a business proposal for my album project. Seems whenever I get close to completion or a breakthrough, Whoosh!, the forces of sabotage and evil are set upon me with a vengeance to ensure nothing I produce will ever see the light of finishing’s day. She told me about this book, The War of Art.
As the moon waxed full, I had the creepy familiar old feeling of a visitor coming back round to haunt me. I call him, Mister Boredom. He steals my joy, and leaves me feeling extremely, extremely ungrateful. You see, letting go is always risky business. Especially so when you take that extra unsafe approach and let go of something before you’ve been careful to replace it. That’s what was happening with me in regards to my choices about relationships. I made some very risky decisions, and I was beginning to feel extremely vulnerable, and alone.
I was invited to a girlfriend’s birthday party in Venice. Well, I call this girl, friend, loosely. We are more like acquaintances. But she is a very talented and very cool chic. And in light of my new year, new moon intentions to let go of some old friendships and cultivate new, I felt particularly inclined to go to this party. Not just because I was invited, but in hopes that by participating in her celebration, we might actually become better friends. I felt the invitation was God supporting my intentions.
Then the strangest thing happened the day of the party.
I'd wanted to go, but as the hour drew nearer, the thought of going became filled with dread. I fought with myself the whole way. Even after I started the car and took off down the hill, I wanted to turn around. I prayed, annoyed. “God, show me how to know when I’m resisting something that will actually be for my good?”
My prayer was answered simply. I kept driving. I had an amazing time at that party. I made new friends, and fans. I shared a song for the birthday girl and gently rocked the crowd, moved the birthday girl to tears. The occasion wouldn’t have been the same without me...in some odd, unpretentious way.
The boredom that was settling evaporated.
Now I know the face of fear, its tricky ways. Illogical and manipulating. Showing up uninvited, trying to change my plans…
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Today's Daily Reflection
From Henri Nouwen's Bread for the Journey:
Creating Space to Dance Together
When we feel lonely we keep looking for a person or persons who can take our loneliness away. Our lonely hearts cry out, "Please hold me, touch me, speak to me, pay attention to me." But soon we discover that the person we expect to take our loneliness away cannot give us what we ask for. Often that person feels oppressed by our demands and runs away, leaving us in despair. As long as we approach another person from our loneliness, no mature human relationship can develop. Clinging to one another in loneliness is suffocating and eventually becomes destructive. For love to be possible we need the courage to create space between us and to trust that this space allows us to dance together.
Creating Space to Dance Together
When we feel lonely we keep looking for a person or persons who can take our loneliness away. Our lonely hearts cry out, "Please hold me, touch me, speak to me, pay attention to me." But soon we discover that the person we expect to take our loneliness away cannot give us what we ask for. Often that person feels oppressed by our demands and runs away, leaving us in despair. As long as we approach another person from our loneliness, no mature human relationship can develop. Clinging to one another in loneliness is suffocating and eventually becomes destructive. For love to be possible we need the courage to create space between us and to trust that this space allows us to dance together.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
New Year, New Moon, New Intentions
2010 was tough on relationships. I lost two girlfriends, and a third came close to the cutting room floor. But alas, the third and I, we found a rough way through.
Honestly, these were more of a letting go than a loss. I had opportunities to reconcile, to fix things, but I made the conscious choice not to try to repair the damage. That may sound a bit unforgiving, but truly, there was little resentment, just an acknowledgment that the overall value of those individuals in my life, wasn't worth the cost of the repair.
I attach very easily to people, so endings have always been emotional. However ironically, I've always been just as easily able to walk away from them. I fear at times, my ability to detach may be interpreted as cold, selfish even. But that's not the case at all. Just because I can do it, doesn't mean it doesn't hurt me. I struggle, I cry. But I can walk straight through the pain, out the door, and never look back.
Nonetheless, it is this deep abiding form of attachment to others that is cause for my growing concern entering this new year, nudging me to reflect on the nature of my friendships.
There is a woman named Victoria who prays for me. We have never met. I've never even heard her voice. But for almost four years now, we are in touch via email. I send updates and prayer requests, she prays and sends reassuring words of wisdom and encouragement. Once, in response to a message I'd sent while in an earlier season of intense discontent in regards to my friendships, she asked if I'd considered the idea that I might be a "burden bearer." I'd never heard of such a thing. What she meant I came to see, is that somehow without intending to, I take on the pain of others. I can become a hosting ground for spirits - of fear, doubt, confusion, depression, stress, anger, exhaustion. I attract people who make a home for these spirits of despair. I am compassionate, I can relate. And it is as though they know I will help bear the load. I believe this attraction and subsequent reaction is purely spiritual, not the fault of myself or the other...I don't think people always knowingly dump their burdens onto others, but it happens. All the time. And as for me, at present I am exhausted from it - both, the weight of other people's pain, and the invitation granted in such relationships to wallow in my own.
I wonder if I am even more of an open container for other people's burdens, because I strive to keep my spirit as junk free as humanly possible? In my own experience, I find it impossible to live an emotionally and spiritually clutter-free life, without unloading my cares and worries on a regular basis. It is hard, soul-wearying work. Yet I believe that in order to maintain healthy friendships, each one must have their individual methods of caring for self. Each must be committed to maintaining a discipline of dealing with their own shit (excuse my French), by their own means.
Dealing with my issues alone sometimes feels like a full-time job. I MUST attend a Eucharist service at least once a week. Without regular communion, I - perfectionist, control-freak, anxiety-prone - I, forget that I'm not the one in control, at all. The bread and wine made holy, reminds me that Christ is always calling me to come unto Him and to leave my heavy burdens there at that table with the One who can bear them.
I see a therapist on a weekly basis for the sole purpose of identifying my issues (annoying!) and to whom I have committed myself to do the work required (often painstaking) to fix those issues.
I also see a spiritual director on a monthly basis and together, she and I sit, and "listen" to the Spirit work things out in me. And she lovingly holds me accountable to spiritual rules I have set for myself with regards to things like prayer, regular fellowship with other believers, and scripture reflection.
And perhaps the most effective tool of all for dealing with myself, is that I have made Solitude and Silence my dearest friends. In turn, they give me wisdom, peace...sometimes even joy.
This new moon asked me to reflect on the year past, and look ahead to what I intend to manifest for the year to come. Entering the year 2011 I can't help but sense that I am at a critical threshold in my life. Some things have been determined, and there is no turning back.
I rang in the new year alone, intentionally. Because perhaps it is not ironic that 2010 was tough on my friendships, when it just so happened to be invaluable for my personal self-development. I broke through in 2010. I found my voice, my confidence, my power. I am no longer afraid to be great.
And with those discoveries, came the discouraging reality that some, even some called friends, prefer to see you remain in a place of brokenness. One's surety can intimidate, one's confidence can shine an unwelcoming, uncomfortable light on another's insecurities.
Looking back, it appears I have survived my dark season of doubt and confusion and find myself having entered a state of welcomed clarity. Certainly I will meet those old dark foes again, at some other dire turning point in my lifetime. We all move in and out of phases of clarity. "To live is to be unsure," said my priest in a recent sermon. And I find lots of truth in that statement. But I do think my great quarter-life crisis is over. I know who I am, and I know what I want to be when I grow up.
And most importantly, I now know what kind of friend I want. I want friends who, for all intents and purposes, are better than me - kinder, more honest, more visionary, more devout. Friends who force me by their very nature to show up as my best, most courageous self, every day. Friends who have already been where I wish to go, or at the very least, friends who know where they are going. I do not wish for perfect friends, but I do wish for those who are authentic in being, who set standards for themselves...those who (as Victoria says) are "life giving."
These are whom I seek.
And to those I've had to leave behind in order to guard myself against old familiar demons...who prey on dreams with the intent to kill and destroy, I wish you well on your journey. I thank you for being a mirror for me to recognize my own weaknesses and fears. I pray for you wisdom to know where you may find resources to aid you, and the discipline to deal with life. May God grant you courage to confront your worst self and overcome her.
Amen.
Honestly, these were more of a letting go than a loss. I had opportunities to reconcile, to fix things, but I made the conscious choice not to try to repair the damage. That may sound a bit unforgiving, but truly, there was little resentment, just an acknowledgment that the overall value of those individuals in my life, wasn't worth the cost of the repair.
I attach very easily to people, so endings have always been emotional. However ironically, I've always been just as easily able to walk away from them. I fear at times, my ability to detach may be interpreted as cold, selfish even. But that's not the case at all. Just because I can do it, doesn't mean it doesn't hurt me. I struggle, I cry. But I can walk straight through the pain, out the door, and never look back.
Nonetheless, it is this deep abiding form of attachment to others that is cause for my growing concern entering this new year, nudging me to reflect on the nature of my friendships.
There is a woman named Victoria who prays for me. We have never met. I've never even heard her voice. But for almost four years now, we are in touch via email. I send updates and prayer requests, she prays and sends reassuring words of wisdom and encouragement. Once, in response to a message I'd sent while in an earlier season of intense discontent in regards to my friendships, she asked if I'd considered the idea that I might be a "burden bearer." I'd never heard of such a thing. What she meant I came to see, is that somehow without intending to, I take on the pain of others. I can become a hosting ground for spirits - of fear, doubt, confusion, depression, stress, anger, exhaustion. I attract people who make a home for these spirits of despair. I am compassionate, I can relate. And it is as though they know I will help bear the load. I believe this attraction and subsequent reaction is purely spiritual, not the fault of myself or the other...I don't think people always knowingly dump their burdens onto others, but it happens. All the time. And as for me, at present I am exhausted from it - both, the weight of other people's pain, and the invitation granted in such relationships to wallow in my own.
I wonder if I am even more of an open container for other people's burdens, because I strive to keep my spirit as junk free as humanly possible? In my own experience, I find it impossible to live an emotionally and spiritually clutter-free life, without unloading my cares and worries on a regular basis. It is hard, soul-wearying work. Yet I believe that in order to maintain healthy friendships, each one must have their individual methods of caring for self. Each must be committed to maintaining a discipline of dealing with their own shit (excuse my French), by their own means.
Dealing with my issues alone sometimes feels like a full-time job. I MUST attend a Eucharist service at least once a week. Without regular communion, I - perfectionist, control-freak, anxiety-prone - I, forget that I'm not the one in control, at all. The bread and wine made holy, reminds me that Christ is always calling me to come unto Him and to leave my heavy burdens there at that table with the One who can bear them.
I see a therapist on a weekly basis for the sole purpose of identifying my issues (annoying!) and to whom I have committed myself to do the work required (often painstaking) to fix those issues.
I also see a spiritual director on a monthly basis and together, she and I sit, and "listen" to the Spirit work things out in me. And she lovingly holds me accountable to spiritual rules I have set for myself with regards to things like prayer, regular fellowship with other believers, and scripture reflection.
And perhaps the most effective tool of all for dealing with myself, is that I have made Solitude and Silence my dearest friends. In turn, they give me wisdom, peace...sometimes even joy.
This new moon asked me to reflect on the year past, and look ahead to what I intend to manifest for the year to come. Entering the year 2011 I can't help but sense that I am at a critical threshold in my life. Some things have been determined, and there is no turning back.
I rang in the new year alone, intentionally. Because perhaps it is not ironic that 2010 was tough on my friendships, when it just so happened to be invaluable for my personal self-development. I broke through in 2010. I found my voice, my confidence, my power. I am no longer afraid to be great.
And with those discoveries, came the discouraging reality that some, even some called friends, prefer to see you remain in a place of brokenness. One's surety can intimidate, one's confidence can shine an unwelcoming, uncomfortable light on another's insecurities.
Looking back, it appears I have survived my dark season of doubt and confusion and find myself having entered a state of welcomed clarity. Certainly I will meet those old dark foes again, at some other dire turning point in my lifetime. We all move in and out of phases of clarity. "To live is to be unsure," said my priest in a recent sermon. And I find lots of truth in that statement. But I do think my great quarter-life crisis is over. I know who I am, and I know what I want to be when I grow up.
And most importantly, I now know what kind of friend I want. I want friends who, for all intents and purposes, are better than me - kinder, more honest, more visionary, more devout. Friends who force me by their very nature to show up as my best, most courageous self, every day. Friends who have already been where I wish to go, or at the very least, friends who know where they are going. I do not wish for perfect friends, but I do wish for those who are authentic in being, who set standards for themselves...those who (as Victoria says) are "life giving."
These are whom I seek.
And to those I've had to leave behind in order to guard myself against old familiar demons...who prey on dreams with the intent to kill and destroy, I wish you well on your journey. I thank you for being a mirror for me to recognize my own weaknesses and fears. I pray for you wisdom to know where you may find resources to aid you, and the discipline to deal with life. May God grant you courage to confront your worst self and overcome her.
Amen.
Monday, January 3, 2011
I'm not taking any action right now. Will sleep on things.
Antony once said, "Don't react, respond."
Good advice when there are no right words.
There is some action, a few precious advances along the way.
Enough to consider.
Enough similarity, enough compatibility.
Enough interest, enough desire.
Enough wounds, enough pains.
Enough to share.
Is it unrealistic to think I can love without hurt?
Yes, she says.
What say the heart.
I speak as the fool.
The sound without reason.
I lie just shy of illogical,
far beyond comprehension.
I am the friend of agony.
and Ecstasy is my mother.
Of certain matters,
Faint ones feign not inquire.
Antony once said, "Don't react, respond."
Good advice when there are no right words.
There is some action, a few precious advances along the way.
Enough to consider.
Enough similarity, enough compatibility.
Enough interest, enough desire.
Enough wounds, enough pains.
Enough to share.
Is it unrealistic to think I can love without hurt?
Yes, she says.
What say the heart.
I speak as the fool.
The sound without reason.
I lie just shy of illogical,
far beyond comprehension.
I am the friend of agony.
and Ecstasy is my mother.
Of certain matters,
Faint ones feign not inquire.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
"I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting
Wait without though, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing."
T. S. Elliot ("East Coker," III)
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting
Wait without though, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing."
T. S. Elliot ("East Coker," III)
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Swimming deep in mystic waters
“My perceptions are changing. And so are my dreams.”
I call these writings, mystic tales, yet I confess at the beginning of this blog journey I’d barely an idea of what the term, ‘mystic,’ actually meant. In retrospect, the entitling of this blog was a prophetic call to understanding something so dark and holy that only in recent weeks is beginning to sound in my spirit more vehemently that ever. It seems I am being drawn in to a richer understanding of this mysterious world of mystic thinking. Therefore this post and those to follow may be more to my benefit than yours - to illuminate the meaning of this mystery of mysticism. Follow along if you dare, but I’ll be honest once more here and say, if I had any power to turn back myself, I’d end the journey here…
Everything is quiet around me and my days are filled with sorrow. I am turning off the world and silence is piercing my soul. I say, with worldly understanding – “I am depressed!” With Christian knowing, I cry – “It is my sin!” But it is neither. I am coming to know the dark and holy…what fourteenth century monastics knew as “The Cloud of Unknowing;” what some described as “the night of the Spirit.”
“Come up higher,” the Spirit says, “and I will show you things.”(1)
Higher. Beyond mere sense and perception. Beyond mere emotion and feeling. Beyond illusion and unto Reality.
This is all I can explain so far. I am sure it cannot make much sense. It is a matter of Spirit, and those battles can hardly be understood by even the one who's taken up their sword. For now, I will say no more of something so unknown. From what I study (and there is much written) these are the early stages of mystic preparation – the ‘purification of the senses’ and the ‘purification of the will.’ The former to do with disciplining the attention (or the mind) is commonly known as Recollection; the latter dealing with a re-orientation of the heart (its affections), which the mystics lovingly know as Purgation. (2)
‘All which I took from thee I did but take,
Not for thy harms,
But just that thou might’st seek it in My arms.’
1) Revelations 4:1
2) From Evelyn Underhill, Practical Mysticism.
I call these writings, mystic tales, yet I confess at the beginning of this blog journey I’d barely an idea of what the term, ‘mystic,’ actually meant. In retrospect, the entitling of this blog was a prophetic call to understanding something so dark and holy that only in recent weeks is beginning to sound in my spirit more vehemently that ever. It seems I am being drawn in to a richer understanding of this mysterious world of mystic thinking. Therefore this post and those to follow may be more to my benefit than yours - to illuminate the meaning of this mystery of mysticism. Follow along if you dare, but I’ll be honest once more here and say, if I had any power to turn back myself, I’d end the journey here…
Everything is quiet around me and my days are filled with sorrow. I am turning off the world and silence is piercing my soul. I say, with worldly understanding – “I am depressed!” With Christian knowing, I cry – “It is my sin!” But it is neither. I am coming to know the dark and holy…what fourteenth century monastics knew as “The Cloud of Unknowing;” what some described as “the night of the Spirit.”
“Come up higher,” the Spirit says, “and I will show you things.”(1)
Higher. Beyond mere sense and perception. Beyond mere emotion and feeling. Beyond illusion and unto Reality.
This is all I can explain so far. I am sure it cannot make much sense. It is a matter of Spirit, and those battles can hardly be understood by even the one who's taken up their sword. For now, I will say no more of something so unknown. From what I study (and there is much written) these are the early stages of mystic preparation – the ‘purification of the senses’ and the ‘purification of the will.’ The former to do with disciplining the attention (or the mind) is commonly known as Recollection; the latter dealing with a re-orientation of the heart (its affections), which the mystics lovingly know as Purgation. (2)
‘All which I took from thee I did but take,
Not for thy harms,
But just that thou might’st seek it in My arms.’
1) Revelations 4:1
2) From Evelyn Underhill, Practical Mysticism.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
"Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure to keep it in tact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will be become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."
C.S. Lewis
C.S. Lewis
Monday, May 17, 2010
Waxing Full...
The Moon is not so easy to make acquaintance with. She regularly hides herself. When the Moon is New, the face of her is hidden from earth’s view. She stays in this posture, of hiding, for days. Until slowly, ever so slowly, she waxes, preparing to reveal herself again and face the world.
And I’ve been in hiding with her these last few days. After another full-blown exposure, I’ve retreated in. Keeping my face to myself. My feelings are nobody’s business. I show little signs of vulnerability. I reveal nothing of value. I am dealing with God.
This time the New Moon lunar phase we are presently cycling through coincides with my "Minerva" phase. Minerva was known as the virgin Greek goddess of wisdom…and the inventor of music. This period of time is understood to be an opportunity to honor one’s more contemplative nature. It marks an inward turning. Physically, a woman’s hormone levels drop towards the end of this phase in her hormonal cycle causing shifts in mood. If we tune into ourselves in this phase, often what comes up if we honor these intense moments of self-reflection are actually opportunities for major growth. Which is probably why we so easily brush off these mood shifts as PMS, rather than resting in It…Whatever It is. Growth is often times a by-product of suffering.
However, nurturing our contemplative nature is our way of being what we are created to be as women…women who feel, who heal, and who in the living out of our pain can nurture others through theirs. Of what use will we be to a broken world in which there will always be suffering if we ourselves cannot bear to suffer, nor bear to enter into another’s suffering? How can we Love in a world desperate for it, if we’ve built fortresses around our own hearts to block out disappointment and rejection? We must dare to bear it all. We must.
I tell you this, if you intend to offer anything of lasting value to this world, you do not have the luxury of avoiding pain.
You know, I like to think that when the Moon retreats into hiding, she is facing God. She takes everything she exposed herself to - all she witnessed and observed and allowed to enter into her experience and brings it to the Divine Healer. There, she empties herself fully so she can face it all again.
Our hiding must be this way, natural and intentional. Not mere avoidance, but a turning away from what others see of you, how they attempt to define you, to get in touch with how God sees you, and ultimately then, how you see yourself. The turning, the hiding, the emptying of yourself can be intense, and exhilarating, but you are guaranteed to confront a more meaningful, life-altering side of God. The encounter may feel like an assault to your very soul, your very existence, but you will survive it. Trust me. And you will re-emerge, ready. Confident.
The Moon cannot hide herself for long. And neither can I. No matter how rejected I feel…no matter how embarrassed, betrayed, let down, used, misunderstood by the world. I will come out again. I must.
See. Already, I am waxing Full again. Preparing for the next reveal. With Minerva as my guide. Shedding tears, ego…layers, letting go. Writing songs, with melancholy chords that say so much I can’t even put the tune into words yet…..
And I’ve been in hiding with her these last few days. After another full-blown exposure, I’ve retreated in. Keeping my face to myself. My feelings are nobody’s business. I show little signs of vulnerability. I reveal nothing of value. I am dealing with God.
This time the New Moon lunar phase we are presently cycling through coincides with my "Minerva" phase. Minerva was known as the virgin Greek goddess of wisdom…and the inventor of music. This period of time is understood to be an opportunity to honor one’s more contemplative nature. It marks an inward turning. Physically, a woman’s hormone levels drop towards the end of this phase in her hormonal cycle causing shifts in mood. If we tune into ourselves in this phase, often what comes up if we honor these intense moments of self-reflection are actually opportunities for major growth. Which is probably why we so easily brush off these mood shifts as PMS, rather than resting in It…Whatever It is. Growth is often times a by-product of suffering.
However, nurturing our contemplative nature is our way of being what we are created to be as women…women who feel, who heal, and who in the living out of our pain can nurture others through theirs. Of what use will we be to a broken world in which there will always be suffering if we ourselves cannot bear to suffer, nor bear to enter into another’s suffering? How can we Love in a world desperate for it, if we’ve built fortresses around our own hearts to block out disappointment and rejection? We must dare to bear it all. We must.
I tell you this, if you intend to offer anything of lasting value to this world, you do not have the luxury of avoiding pain.
You know, I like to think that when the Moon retreats into hiding, she is facing God. She takes everything she exposed herself to - all she witnessed and observed and allowed to enter into her experience and brings it to the Divine Healer. There, she empties herself fully so she can face it all again.
Our hiding must be this way, natural and intentional. Not mere avoidance, but a turning away from what others see of you, how they attempt to define you, to get in touch with how God sees you, and ultimately then, how you see yourself. The turning, the hiding, the emptying of yourself can be intense, and exhilarating, but you are guaranteed to confront a more meaningful, life-altering side of God. The encounter may feel like an assault to your very soul, your very existence, but you will survive it. Trust me. And you will re-emerge, ready. Confident.
The Moon cannot hide herself for long. And neither can I. No matter how rejected I feel…no matter how embarrassed, betrayed, let down, used, misunderstood by the world. I will come out again. I must.
See. Already, I am waxing Full again. Preparing for the next reveal. With Minerva as my guide. Shedding tears, ego…layers, letting go. Writing songs, with melancholy chords that say so much I can’t even put the tune into words yet…..
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
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