Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 11

"Why are bathtubs the best places to ponder -- with AND without water?!" - today's ponder prompt from betsy p.

Awaking in the middle of the night in a rustic retreat center, I toss and turn in the bed that is temporarily mine. My sleeping roommate snoozes less than four feet away and I quickly scan the room for non-disruptive midnight options. Turning the light on seems offensive and it's too dark and cold to venture outside. Stealthily I gather my pillows and reach for my notepad as I make my way toward the sole other room in our modest abode - the bathroom.

Immersing myself in the ceramic tub devoid of water, a single drip escapes the faucet and startles me further awake as it lands on my bare toe. Feather-like pillows cushion my body and act as amniotic fluid in this man-made womb. Eventually my nighttime restlessness begins to lessen as I mold myself to the curved fixture designed specifically for holding the human form. (While showers have their own special kind of magic with their resemblance to rain pouring from the sky, there's nothing quite as nurturing as a tub.)

In my nighttime cradle, I've found the perfect incubator for idea nurturing and dream making. I'm reminded of another friend who loves to sit in the bathtub for hours on end - without water. Her inspiration helped me discover these abodes as the near perfect pondering place. Instant mood setting is available in a moment's notice with customized climate control. You can fill it up with hot water or cold; to the brim or ankle deep; with bubbles and aromatherapy or crystal clear; and perhaps most important and least considered, you can order it dry and have your own holding place within seconds. Add some pillows, a candle or two and if you're lucky a window with a view. Voila, an instant cozy spot to bring on the percolating, gestating, resting and waiting, hatching ideas, dreaming, scheming, breathing, being, and, of course, bathing. All hours of the day, there’s a custom cradle not so far away.

Prizes for you... Inspiration for me... Check it out!!!

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Kooky Space

Advent has begun. I find myself in a kooky space - in a place of expansion and community AND in a time when I am called to simply Be. There's my word again, BE... BEE... The bee is a long-time symbol of accomplishing the impossible. How does one wait in the darkness and shine in the heavens... simultaneously?

I'm called to be in community and I'm called to be in contemplation. I'm called to shine and I long to sit in the darkness - waiting in the shadows - percolating - ripening in the womb. Yes, Advent carries a theme of birthing. Does not the fetus ripen within the womb? Did not Mary say, "Yes" and then wait? We wait. I wait.

Is God a Giant Ouija Board?

What are the questions I'm most curious about these days? Well, they're probably the things I'm curious about a significant portion of the time. Career. Time. Money. Relationship. God. Not always in that order. Is this for me? Am I on the right path? Was that a good decision? Did I do a caring thing? Am I ok? Oh my, it feels like I'm 10 years old again and playing with a Ouija board.

Ouija boards and Magic 8-Balls - maybe they do hold all the answers. Will I be rich? Absolutely. Will I be famous? You bet. Does God exist? Ask again. Oh boy, do we ever get past that fascination with wanting the answers? By asking questions do we treat the Universe/Higher Power/God like a giant Ouija board? Asking for an answer and anticipating the answer we want to hear. Manipulating the planchette and acting like we're not. Pretending we've let go of control when, in fact, there is no way we'll take our last finger out of the game.

What might it take to release and let go? What is our role in the grand plan? I remember a friend telling me a story I'll never forget. She had a college roommate who had a big exam coming up and didn't even study, then wondered why she failed the exam even though she'd prayed really hard. Is God our Magic 8-Ball? Are the answers right in front of us? Again, what's our role? I know if I sit around and eat chocolate all day I'm going to get fat. Do I know if I work really hard it will pay off? It depends on how I define "pay off". If I already have the answer planned then I may be disappointed, but if I let go of the Ouija board then I might be delightfully surprised by what happens.

What are your burning questions today? Do you need a speedy answer or are you willing to wait for the surprise? Will you study for your exam, sit back and eat chocolates or jump in the game?

Life coach Martha Beck says, "Listening to that mystical frequency, while staying safely grounded in logical and pragmatic action, is the key to planning the path of your best destiny."

I invite you to ponder that today. Me? I'm off to plan my destiny :-)

photos from St. Catherine's Monastery ©2010

The Journey Has Already Begun

I am the one who sits and waits. Waiting for what? The pilgrimage? Today? Tomorrow? The Holy? The Sacred is already here. I sit in the shadows - in the space of waiting. The already and the not yet. My heart has turned to the desert. The journey has begun. The Sacred text written on every branch before me... still, I am curious about the shadows and what I do not and cannot already know.

I awakened today (& yesterday, too) wondering - What is wrong with me? Is something the matter? I leave for Egypt in two days and all I want to do is immerse myself in Instant Netflix offerings of Veronica Mars. It's almost a compulsion and I ponder - Am I avoiding or am I waiting or something entirely different?

I can't make myself read the history of St. Anthony (whose footsteps I will be following.) Instead I read the current Vanity Fair and the sad adventures of Lindsey Lohan. My heart breaks for the world around me AND I feel wrapped inside my own little cocoon. The journey has already begun.

"In each of us dwells a pilgrim. It is the part of us that longs to have direct contact with the sacred." - Phil Cousineau

How do you respond for the pilgrimage of life each day? Do you wait? Avoid? Jump in? What is your longing for contact with the sacred? Please, do tell!

Who knows whether I will return to this space before I depart for the desert? In case I don't, please know I will carry those I love with me (that includes you) and would cherish knowing a space is being held for me in your heart as I travel into the unknown. Peace and blessings, friends. Namaste.

Door #1, #2 and #3

“All truth is one rarefied yet earthly room, but our awareness often is outside. We need to open a particular door and go through its conditioning chamber, gradually preparing ourselves to be able to see and respond in the subtle, awesome, caressing light of that spacious room.” -- Tilden Edwards

As anyone who’s followed this blog for awhile knows, I’ve been stalked by crows, danced with dolphins and stepped into more than a few foreign lands. Today, I’m here to write about mysterious doors - doors (& gates) that have been intensifying their pursuit of me over the last week.

Sunday while preparing for the Eucharist at Camp Cross women’s retreat, I glanced in the chair I had randomly chosen and picked up a blank mandala left there. Curious, I turned over the page and read this mandala is called “Gates of Death”. It speaks of the stages of my own journey and offered these words:

“You may feel compelled to turn your back on your accomplishments, to forgo security, or to let go of the way things have been, and step through a gateway to a mysterious unknown. This commences a journey downward, into the depths of yourself.”

Oh my... when I read those words I began to laugh as my upcoming pilgrimage to the Sinai Desert came to mind. I showed them to my sis sitting to my left and we giggled like little girls who’d been let in on a wonderful secret. Just in case we’d forgotten there’s a mysterious power greater than all of us… the message came through loud and clear! I will call that Door #1.

Door #2 became boldly apparent yesterday afternoon during a group phone call with my life coach when I volunteered to assist with an exercise. I was called upon to describe the room in my house with which I’m least satisfied. For some “kooky” reason, I chose the closet in my office. As I described its contents – a mess of other people’s stuff I can’t get rid of – some good things I can’t get to – a little window that lets light in, but I can’t access it because the door’s usually closed – Tonya patiently repeated my words, took some notes and then posed the question, “What area of your life might this room represent?” I get chills even now and the words again infuse all the way through my body. “My writing,” I announced without hesitation. Again, Oh My!!

Tonya’s charge to me? Not to start writing, but to physically clean out that closet and see what happens next. Whew... that's what I call a step of faith. So, I have a date with my husband for this afternoon and we’re going to turn on some nice music, roll up our sleeves, maybe even dance a little as we clean behind Door #2.

You know there had to be at least one more. Door #3 peaked in on me yesterday, but I didn’t realize it until this morning. I’ve been working with a few new SoulCollage® cards I made last weekend and one more card insisted on coming into the mix. It’s one that’s been around for awhile, but I haven’t spent much time with it. So… after reading Tilden Edwards quote (above) during my morning quiet time, my mouth dropped open & the giggly feeling rose up when I realized what’s on that card – a woman sitting in front of a huge closed gate/door… And believe me when I say, she has a lot to talk about!!

For now, I'll close with these snapshots of doors 1, 2 and 3. It’s a good thing I’ve spent the summer becoming physically solvent, since it looks like there’s a lot of adventure and mystery waiting to be let into the light. I hope you’ll stick around and journey with me!!

How about you? Any doors in your life beckoning for attention? Are there rooms in your ‘house’ awaiting a face-lift? Me? I’m off to de-clutter and see what happens next!

a very scary door #2
'the gatekeeper' © lucy

Easter Reflections

Saturday – For now we wait – in this place between death and redemption – dark and light. A mother sitting at the foot of the cross watching her son die. Others stand with her AND she can only stand alone. No one can know the heartbreak of her own cross – her flesh and blood pouring from the wounds.

Today, the day in between, we wait. Have we not always waited? Death & resurrection. Birth & new life. How did we get here? Sitting at the cross. Moving east toward sunrise . East toward the tomb.

For what do I wait? The already and the not yet. Jesus’ way. His life is my life. Buried and crucified. Killed for loving. Was it worth it? Yes – every moment. I could not be here if I hadn’t gone there. And now we wait.

“The tomb becomes a womb today.” Richard Rohr

Sunday – Sitting in last night's Easter vigil, I was not ready for the lights to come on. The darkness comforting – holding – peaceful & womblike. No resurrection – yet. No bright lights. No breaking the silence with a rousing Alleluia.

“Love is not a victory march. It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah.”
-- Leonard Cohen

Today, I sit with you, Lord, knowing you are risen. Knowing it’s not about the grave or the cross or even death itself. It’s about now. You are here with me in this quiet moment. Risen. Yes.

I am happy to have sat in the dark of last night’s vigil. Today the light feels harsh. The celebration of bonnets and bunnies is too much. Instead, I sit in my jeans and t-shirt waiting to go to the Washington State Penitentiary to see my own flesh and blood.

We are rising. Already and not yet. We will go and sit and keep our own vigil on this day of resurrection. And in my heart, I will sing a broken Hallelujah – remembering the beauty in brokenness - waiting - and Love.

photo © h3images

The Ripple Effect - Part two

There is lots of wrestling going on in my brain and body these days – imagine that?!? Yesterday was a self- proclaimed, self-care day. I visited my chiropractor, my spiritual director and my hairdresser. I snuck in a quick nap with Aslan purring on my chest, then headed to a client meeting and after to the local, highly acclaimed, hard-to-get-into pizza place, Delancey, for dinner with my husband and daughter. When a friend called in the afternoon to ask how I was, I proclaimed, “Today was a good day.”

I struggle with not wanting too quickly to put the cherry on top of this crazy ice cream sundae called life. I have really wanted to be pissed off at God for the last couple of days, but God’s pursuit of me is making it really difficult. My spiritual director and I talked about this quite a bit yesterday. She suggested that perhaps my long-ingrained anthropomorphic view of God is finally starting to disappear. I want to be angry at some controlling guy in the sky who pulls the strings and makes things happen for better or worse. Instead I am being greeted by scripture that sings of the earth holding me and I hear and feel the love of Jesus in the comforting words of supportive bloggers, beautiful voices uplifted in song, a purring cat, the glorious sunshine and “random” other places.

My spiritual companion and I also talked about songs of lament and how the Psalms are filled with them. They have their own rhythm of wailing and crying out to God while ultimately coming to a place of hope or rest. It is a pattern I have experienced myself in writing or verbally processing. By exhausting the dialogue in my head (the rants & raves & miscellaneous thoughts I might not dare to share out loud), I usually find I come to a place of peace – not necessarily resolution. There is a difference!

Most of my last post came through stream of consciousness journaling. Not wanting to rush to a place of calm waters, (because I needed to feel and share the tumultuous rhythm) I drew short of sharing where my lament finally landed. After a couple of days to let it settle, I wanted to share it now:

…and then the ocean returned to its smooth placid existence in the cove along the deserted beach. The gentle ripples returning & spreading out to sea. The same water now touching another on a far away shore. Interconnected.

Who can assess the ripple effect of one tear poured into an ocean? One drip pounding subtlely time and time again until rock has been eroded. Perhaps my love, my tears, are the drip that will erode the heart of stone. My own? Another’s? Who knows?

It’s ok to sit in the mystery. My world has been rocked. I sit in Advent and wait. I know not for what. Redemption? Reconciliaton?

Thank you for waiting alongside me. Your ripples wash over me like fresh rain drops. I am soothed and comforted knowing I am held in this gentle embrace.

What are you waiting for this Advent season? Are you willing to wrestle with the echoes of your own mind? Are you content to rest without knowing what will come next? Are you aware of the gentle ripples touching your days? Advent is a season about being awake. Might you find a new way to open your eyes?

photos ©lucy - glendolough 10.09

The Ripple Effect

“…I know in my bones the ache to find the words, I know, as well, the ache of uncertainty about which words.” --Scott Cairns

Since my return from Ireland on October 26, I have been struggling with this “which” of words. On the heels of one of my most incredible life experiences, I was greeted only moments after arrival in Seattle with the news that my beloved beautiful boy was in jail, charged with a very serious offense. Needless to say, I was (and am) devastated.

In both events (Ireland & 'the news'), my world has been rocked. I sit and wait during this season of Advent to see where the ripples might land. Can that be enough? Yes – for me, for now – the waiting must be enough. Still…I ache to find the words, so today I share a few regarding “the crime.”


I am ever so grateful no one was physically harmed – no death – no hospitalizations – no rape. But, laws were broken. Stupid, careless, foolish mistakes were made and now a young life – my son’s – will be imprisoned for as many as four years. They say it could have been much worse – 15 years or more. Can I be grateful? Perhaps later.

No one was physically harmed… the words linger and I am struck with the ripple effect, because the emotional toll is high. I can’t begin to process the damage for myself, so how can I weigh the cost to the rest of my family or anyone else? The ripple is high. It is exhausting. Like the waves of the ocean, even the gentle ones leave me with a queasy feeling if I stand or float in them too long. And, then there are the rogue waves that come out of nowhere and pick you up and thrash you to the ocean floor where all equilibrium is lost. Which way is up? Where is the bottom?

I once danced with a rogue wave in Hawaii. Even after I was safely out of the water and had survived the experience, I could not accurately assess the damage. Removing my swimsuit, the sand came out of nooks and crannies I didn’t know existed – little grains of evidence that the wave had had its way with me. Later, I walked by a mirror after showering and caught sight of a giant bruise disguised as an enormous eggplant tattooed on my butt. I don’t remember how long it took before I could sit comfortably again or when the ugly mark finally faded away.

Today, I have more questions than answers – many of them surrounding this season of Advent, as well as the circumstances of my life. It’s odd, but there is a simple peace in knowing that today waiting can be enough. I am grateful for this space. I have struggled with the words and will continue to do so. Your loving witness alongside makes the waiting a little easier.

Blessings to you and yours.

bermuda waves ©h3images.com

ordinary time?

A wonderful “aha” moment visited me this morning. Woohoo!! I love when I am still enough to listen to the answers that are already inside me, co-created with God. This morning was one of those times as I completed my morning pages and settled into a quiet listening.

Lately I have been called to a new rhythm in my day. To outsiders it might look strangely similar to my “normal” rhythm, but there has been a feeling about it that is much different. It has felt less focused, possibly even less driven, and at times has left me wondering what the heck I am doing. Or when my ego steps in and says “what should I be doing?”, my anxiety level can tend to rise. For the most part, however, the rhythm has not felt anxious, but more like waiting which I have described here for several posts.

The “aha” moment came today when I read this post at The Painted Prayerbook. It is a wonderful post about “ordinary time": the time between Lent and Advent. The post resonated with me deeply as I felt like she was describing where I am. Recent lectionary verses included Matthew 6.24-34 which “challenges us with questions that lie at the heart of Christian life: Whom will we serve? Where will we place our trust and our energy?”

Aha! that is exactly where I am…deciding where I will place my energy. The “whom” and “trust” are easily determined when I get out of my own way (i.e. listen without agenda)!

So, I think maybe I will spend today with a little pondering of the Matthew verses which draw on some of my favorites: the birds of the air and the lilies of the field ☺.

How about you? Where are you placing your trust and energy during these extraordinary “ordinary days”?

wordless sounds and sighs

The theme of waiting continues to follow me throughout this often crazy busy life of mine. I am surrounded by stillness and beauty at all turns if I just allow myself to slow down and listen.

Even during the past week when my time away was sudden and unexpected, I was able to find peace and serenity. It was almost as if God was stalking me ☺. I am finding that when I wait without agenda, the Spirit speaks for me in ways I cannot fathom: The whisper of trees. The joy of art’s creation. Birds flying. Eagles soaring. A dog’s warm nuzzle.

I am delighted to be back home and to share a few words here. “Few words” continues to be the key for me. And part of “God’s stalking” was the following Bible verse that showed up not once or twice, but three times from three different sources last week. I think it says it all.

“The Spirit also helps us in our own weakness. For when we do not know what to say in prayer, the Spirit expresses what we mean in wordless sounds and sighs.” --Romans 8:26

I would love to know how these words speak to you. Or if you are wordless right now, a simple “hello” would be delightful ☺.

Peace, friends!

photo by lucy 5.24.08. see related post here.

waiting

"how tempting it is to turn waiting into a game of Clue--hurrying as fast as you can through the corridors, searching for clues that will give you the answers you need." --Sue Monk Kidd

sometimes waiting needs to be just that...waiting.

a bud forced to bloom too soon turns into a broken blossom, not a flower.

a cocoon cut open before it's time produces a butterfly with weak wings.

telling God what we think is going to happen probably creates a chuckle or possibly even a belly laugh in the hallways of heaven.

sometimes waiting needs to be just that...waiting

more simplicity

in my last post, i spoke of how sometimes the simple things can express to us what words cannot. at other times, it is simple words that speak to me. often they come from my own pen and then i sit and ponder them thinking "hmmm...did i write that? i wonder where that came from."

the phrase that popped out this morning and repeatedly appeared in my journaling was:

the thorns of blooming

so...what do you think? does this phrase speak to you? if so, i would love to know what you hear.

that's all for today...still "keeping it simple". ☺

poppy & hawthorne tree photo by lucy

recycling

waiting or wasting? blocked or resting? dabbling or mastering? the words will not come. I am reminded of the Nike slogan, “just do it.” alas, I am dry as toast. scattered like confetti in the wind. wrung out and hung to dry. morose? no. delighted? no. extreme? perhaps. love me or hate me, but please don’t be indifferent.

the words will not come, so here is a “recycled” post for today…

the words will not come.
they do not flow like water.
they drip in my mind interrupting solace like a leaky faucet.
they come in ragged, jagged fits and bursts and then
they resist—stop—refuse to congeal and thus
leave me wanting—yearning—aching and unsure of what needs
or wants to be said or heard or read.

my words are insufficient.
cards held close to my vest.
“Thank you but your words are not right for us.”
“Have you tried this or that?”
words of advice slip through the air
and hang like graffiti on a wall.

needing words to communicate—to feel complete.
finding words get in the way.
interpretation.
collision.
mood and mystery.
is there meaning in this text?
mine or yours?

the inner (& sometimes outer) critic speaks.
softly.
loudly.
in fits and spurts.
in screams and sighs.
the words will not come.
And they will not stop.

photo by lucy. la cruz mexico

mystery on the mountain

Where to begin? I feel like I am a player in a 21st century God-directed version of The Birds. It’s not nearly as scary, however, but it feels like if I don’t listen carefully, I may be covered in blue jays cackling and laughing at me for not paying attention.

Perhaps I should back up just a bit. A post for me these days would not be complete without the mention of dreams. Let me add to that the topic of waiting. Or maybe it is more like Pamela spoke of in her comment on beginnings and endings, it is more aptly a time of transition. Yes, I think that’s where I am. A time of transition. In between dreams. Waiting to see what manifests while trying to be present to the world around me.

So, where do the birds come in? Well, last week I was driving along the rode and I looked to the side and saw one distinct blue jay. Beautiful. He seemed a bit out of place, because I don’t recall seeing many (any?) blue jays around here. A day or two later…same thing. Different road, same thing: A single blue jay placed herself distinctly next to my stopped car. Coincidence? Perhaps. But, here is where the Alfred Hitchcock thing really starts to happen…Yesterday, I was at Mount Rainier with friends. As we were going to our car after lunch, there was another amazing blue jay. And then another and another and another until they nearly surrounded us. It was incredible!!

Third time's the charm, right? I finally began to wonder, “What’s the deal with blue jays?” One of my friends said that they represent either dabblers or masters. Hmmmm. So, this morning I popped open Animal Speak and looked them up. Here is what it said, “Those with a jay as a totem usually have a tremendous amount of ability, but it can be scattered or it is often not developed any more than is necessary to get by...The blue jay reflects that a time of greater resourcefulness and adaptability is about to unfold. If the jay has flown into your life, it indicates that you are moving into a time where you can begin to develop the innate royalty that is within you, or simply be a pretender to the throne.”

What did I hear? It’s time to focus. Listen. Wait. Be still and know that I am God. Be direct in what you choose to do and stop being scattered. Listen. Wait. Focus. Whew! I think I’ll stop for now and let that soak in!

So, if I didn’t lose you in all that talk of Alfred Hitchcock and congregating birds, I would love to know what’s stirring in you. Do you feel scattered or focused? What does it mean to wait? To listen? To be still in God's presence? To follow your dreams?

(I have a few more thoughts about where this message is leading me particularly in relation to my dreams, but I think I’ll wait and listen for now.) Stay tuned…☺

lucy's photos from mount rainier 5.01.08

Vessels, Empty Space & Advent

Yesterday was a day filled with shadows and vessels. It is raining here in Seattle (no surprise there.) My living room is still filled with furniture from the basement and contractors go in and out of my house. A list sits patiently by my computer, but I did not want to go anywhere yesterday…no driving, no errands, no last minute Christmas duties. And so I stayed in for the day and made a collage. The topic: vessels. I asked myself “why vessels?” several times throughout the process.

What do vessels represent to me? Holding. A bowl. A womb. Cupped hands. A shell. A box. A gift. A decanter. The arms of God. Safety. Confinement. Cups & glasses. Crystal. Pottery. Earthenware. More questions: What am I trying to hold? What do I need to let go of? What does advent really mean?

Finally in the evening, I visited Back Road Journey and read these words:

“This gift (empty space) takes me down a path I may not have chosen otherwise: emptiness, brokenness, darkness, without-ness. The invitation is there, I have only to cross the threshold. And I am discovering that there are layers to this threshold, layers of emptiness and brokenness to live through. Perhaps this is what John the Baptist spoke of when he said, “Prepare the way.” What if prepare isn’t about pulling out all the Christmas boxes from the attic or basement in order to get the house just right or about baking up a storm but rather it’s about emptying, being without, getting rid of, all in order to make room? Could it be that it’s in the empty spaces and brokenness where there’s room for Emmanuel to be born?”

Something shifted in me as I read her words and I began to see the connection between vessels, empty space and advent. Preparing the way. Smoothing the vessel. Making room. Letting go. And this morning these words continued the journey. What edges need to be sheared away? Rough places chipped off to make space for God? For forgiveness and holiness. Grace & mercy. Filled up only to be emptied again and again. Opening the door to my own dark places. Seeing the images that still lie in shadow. There is much to consider in this time of waiting.

In closing, I will share one last thing (although another post is already brewing.) Here are words from Jan L. Richardson’s, Night Visions. They have been working on me for nearly a week since I read them. (Not surprisingly, they also were perfectly printed at the end of Redbarn’s post ☺ .) What places may still yearn to be hollowed out for you?

You hollow us out, God,
so that we may carry you,
and you endlessly fill us
only to be emptied again.

Make smooth our inward spaces
and sturdy,
that we may hold you
with less resistance
and bear you
with deeper grace.

collage by lucy

The Quiet Time

Wow! Sometimes God is just entirely too cool. For this post to make the most sense, you must first read, Monday Morning Gibberish. Literally moments after pushing the publish button, I picked up a little book called, God Calling. Here is today's reading:

"There may be many times when I reveal nothing, command nothing, give no guidance. But your path is clear, and your task, to grow daily more and more into the knowledge of Me. That this quiet time with Me will enable you to do.

I may ask you to sit silent before Me, and I may speak no word that you could write. All the same that waiting with Me will bring comfort and Peace. Only friends who understand and love each other can wait silent in each other's presence.

And it may be that I shall prove our friendship by asking you to wait in silence while I rest with you, assure of your Love and understanding. So wait, so love, so joy."

Like I said, "Sometimes God is just entirely too cool." Think I'll sit and wait awhile.

photo by lucy

Monday Morning Gibberish

Ever have those days where too much is rolling around in your brain and nothing coherent will pop out? Last Monday I was filled with excitement over the wonderful weekend spent away with my sister and her husband as well as the wonder of entering the season of advent. I had posts just waiting to fill the pages. And then, the floods came. So here it is Monday again and even more stories fill my brain, but nothing wants to materialize in any recognizable format other than gibberish.

The odd thing about today is that I am not particularly rushed. My schedule is reasonably clear for the day...the week even (and I hesitate to even write that with concern that a disaster may appear without notice...always a possibility), so I have time to write. I have journaled pages and pages already this morning. I have spent quiet time with centering prayer. I even lit my new candle from Zena Moon, "a candle for writing." I have done a little word study on my name(s): both given and nicknamed. The sun is shining. My dog has been fed. My daughter is at school & my husband at work. The house is quiet except for the sounds of the garbage trucks outside.

So, my friends, what you are reading here is a bit of a brain dump. It is with the hope that at some point in time I can write the words that really want to come. Those stubborn thoughts that swirl and twirl throughout my brain like a feather floating on the wind. I jump to grab them, but they slip through my fingers. Maybe I am trying too hard. Maybe there is too much to say. Maybe I just need to be still awhile longer. Maybe I just need to wait. Hmmm...isn't waiting what Advent is all about?

katrina photo from here

Waiting for Ruwach

I had a lightbulb moment today and found a new connection for the three words (waiting, breath & spirit) from my previous post. It occurred to me that while I have been pondering a new way of breath, God has been waiting for me to make the connection. I wonder how often that happens? I usually think that I am waiting for God, but today it feels a bit more mutual.

Something I had temporarily forgotten is that Breath and Spirit are both translations of the Hebrew word Ruwach (also translated as wind). In my "moment," I had the sense that I am being called to a new way to consider the Holy Spirit. I'm not exactly sure what it means but it feels really good and very freeing. It feels like new breath, a sweet wind blowing and the spirit of my heart lifting high. It feels whole, connected and embodied.

In my Awakening the Creative Spirit class a couple of weeks ago, I kept saying how whole and full I felt and the word "embodied" seemed very important. I did a word search and landed on this definition of embody--to provide a spirit with a physical form. This names the fullness I feel.

My dolphin studies also say when dolphin shows up it is time to breathe some new life into yourself. And, then today I ran across the tradition that the early Christians viewed dolphin as a symbol of salvation. Breath. Spirit. New life. Salvation. Coincidence or new possibilites to consider? How will I choose to view Spirit--inside a box or wide open in the world?

(A little aside here--there was a dolphin prominently featured in the Seattle Times this week AND my friends in Mexico called to tell me some wonderful dolphin stories...so my dolphin totem continues to inspire.)

One final thought (for now) is that almost three years ago, I received what I believe was an amazing prophecy and these words have been stirring within me recently:

Feel the wind. The wind blows hard. The wind is blowing our family in a new direction. Guide the sails through Me.

A new way to breathe-- To experience the wind-- To feel the Spirit?

The Simplicity of Paradox

How do simple words contain such complex meaning? My last two posts (unplanned, by the way) have been entirely about the paradox of simplicity. A twenty-five word post reveals both the simplicity and complexity involved in actually living out the “simple” words. In another post, an “ordinary” day moves into the extraordinary. Simple? Yes. And, there is absolutely nothing simple at all about it. Paradox. Small things becoming larger than life. Ground, cold and barren, suddenly sprouting new life. Sun shining brighter than normal.

This is a simple post about the complexity that is percolating in my mind. Words of waiting, new breath and spirit permeate my waking and sleeping hours. I have thoughts and ideas about what they are telling me and just when I begin to write, another image appears and the idea morphs into a new one. So, for now, I will wait.

Will you consider waiting with me? I’d love to know what images these "simple" words (waiting, breath, spirit) stir in you.