Labyrinth of Life

I’ve been away from this page too long, so today I invite you on a literal and metaphorical journey through the labyrinth of my life. This past month I have stepped through many doors, beginning with a weekend I spent with my grad school buddies. Together, we have been through thick and thin. We’ve discovered our mothers, hated them, loved them and become mothers ourselves. We have filled and emptied our nests. Buried our parents. We’ve become grandmothers, new moms and orphans. We’ve laughed hysterically, wept relentlessly and grown beyond our narrow boundaries. Our hearts have been like melting chocolate, swirling and fading in steaming milk. Comfort brings us home.

This month I have relived the birth of my son and his life of disarray. What can I even say? I’ve held him in my arms and he in mine, and so the journey goes… There is green, new life and growth. The touch of a hand. Swirling life around the edges. The roots of messiness piercing the whimsy of freedom, brilliance and light. I can feel it as I spin around the side. A new song, starry night, candles in the wind and paper umbrellas in a magical sky. (Phoenix remembered). Stripes of brilliance and color smash up against the gray of despair. Grief is always near. The cup of celebration teases me and then disappears as I round the corner to more light and celebration.

Petals of white greet me before being pierced by the messiness of more necessary growth. My hands hold it all as witness to the brokenness and darkness that is both parenthood and childhood. The path continues. I cannot stop now. Will I open or close my eyes to despair? I choose to feel the life that comes from releasing emotion. Light and dark blur together until I can’t tell which is which, and still life dances around the edges and angels offer me the cup of salvation as the center reveals it all – light, shadow & life. The embers glow and beckon me to continue the journey.

Golden light leads the way out. Fresh pink and spring green remind me that roots are essential and seeds grow into strong trees. (A sister. A friend.) Closed eyes offer prayer and meditation as they touch the heart within. (A workshop.) The shadows hold new life and there is nourishment in the messiness. Roots point the way to sweet nectar. (A prom & more.) Celebrate. Celebrate where you’ve been – the darkness – the brilliance – the new song of swirling life. Take in the colors and shapes that are this life. Hold them all. Celebrate birth and death. They all lie within your beautiful perfect heart. Amen.

labyrinth collage - designed & created by KSH 6.2011

day

"And then the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk to bloom." --Anais Nin

Continuing through the cycle of the hours and the breath started here, I pause after the inhale of dawn and survey what greets me in the fullness of the day. Multiple images surface in this season: standing at the edge of a high dive - clinging to the open door of an airplane - arms spread wide at the peak of a mountain top. In each case, I hold my breath. I am ready to jump and anything is possible. Will I dare to risk what lies before me? Will I accept the risk to bloom and reach further?

The pause at the top of the inhale speaks to me of fullness and risk. I'd love to know... what does it say to you?

dawn

The blessings of Lent continue to be deep and full. This week's focus from Abbey of the Arts is the spiritual practice of praying with the hours. Yesterday morning I sank deeply into the practice of following the breath throughout the hours of the day. Vivid images came to my mind as I focused on inhale (dawn); pause (day); exhale (sunset/evening); and pause (night/darkness).

This morning I chose to spend my meditation time listening to gentle, dawn-like music and collaging some of the images that entered my mind yesterday. Above is the result of today's musings. Dawn and the breath of inhale reminds me of rising possibilities; a sense of filling; and always golden light.

I invite you to take some time with your breath today (particularly the inhale) and see if there are certain images evoked when you consider the new day (dawn) and/or the inhale of breath.

Golden blessings to you this day!

Surprise Tribute

Sometimes I wish I could plug a recorder into my brain during the night, especially those early morning hours just before waking. I swear some of my best ideas and writing emerge just before dawn, but once I open my eyes they drift away like ash in a windstorm. I also wonder – often – about this crazy universe and how much we can’t even begin to comprehend in relation to our thoughts especially. I’m talking about those goose bump generating moments when you think of a person you haven’t thought of in years and seconds later the phone rings and it’s him/her on the line. Or when a topic is bubbling in your brain and then you find three other bloggers have written about the same thing at the same time.

Early this morning, I was creating a post in my brain about being known (or not) by others. My thoughts drifted in and out through recent events. Monday night I was at a dinner honoring the faculty and participants of the transformational program at the Recovery Café (a place of healing for those in recovery – days, weeks, years, hours – from a variety of addictive behaviors.) Having facilitated a program there on deepening spirituality, I felt as though these people knew me in personal and meaningful ways that people I have known for years don't fathom. Last night, I was with friends I have journeyed with through child rearing, parents’ deaths, divorces and day to day mundane events for 20 years. They see me through a completely different lens. I doubt they would ever consider referring a client to me since they know so many of my personal foibles. In both instances, I am known and I am not.

So, imagine my surprise to wake up and find an e-mail pointing me to this tribute. Maureen at Writing Without Paper is indeed a skilled writer. I found myself perusing her words (my words, in many cases) and being fascinated by their arrangement. While I have never met Maureen in person, she created a unique profile of me that feels very intimate, accurate and revealing. Wow! I felt very “known” as I read her words. I also loved how she left space for not knowing me with this prose: "I figure I still have a lot left to learn before I can imagine saying I know her, even remotely."

Part of my story includes a tension of wanting to be known deeply and also carrying a layer of protection that keeps others away from my heart (sometimes intentionally and other times automatically). It is just one of the many paradoxes in my life. So, today I find myself feeling quite honored by Maureen’s tribute AND feeling a bit shy about pointing you in that direction. However, if you know anything about me at all, you know a little shyness rarely keeps me from taking the leap into new territory. So, please pop on over and read Maureen’s wonderful weaving of prose and meet me in a way I found quite fascinating. (I hope you will leave comments for her to acknowledge her amazing gift of Writing Without Paper.) Thank you, Maureen!!!

My question(s) for you today is: How do you feel about being “known”? Do you hold your own tensions on that subject? Do you leap or lay low? I’d love to know!

collages by and of lucy circa 2007

Sacred Sunday: Walkin' on Sunshine

I love Sunday mornings. Lingering. Journaling. Taking time and space for me to see what rises up. Images - visual and written stir through my mind. The past week gone. The next not yet here. I sit in the sacred present. Only now.

Candlelight and gentle music. Fan blowing. Family sleeping. Coffee, hot and warm by my side. “Live with Passion.” Yes. Choose life. Choose me. Images call my name. Some already gathered. The girl in the pink sweater. She beckoned to me while I was preparing for my workshop. She was mine. Held in space until just the right time.

“Walkin’ on Sunshine.” My day yesterday. My life now. Inseparable from the universe. One moment folds into the next. Grounded. Whole. Light and airy. Held by the hand of God. The hands of my father. My ancestors.

Walking towards Ireland. Walking toward myself. I hold on and I move forward. With trepidation, not fear. Quivering, undulating movement. The pendulum of my grounded heart swings. The souls (soles) of my feet dance and move and walk on sunshine… with sunshine… through sunshine.

I am sunshine. Lucy of the light. Illuminated and free. My passion glowing and growing for others to see. I am Norah – the one of compassion. And Lil – life’s beauty. They surround me. Bold and emboldened.

The past and present collide and unite with the girl in the pink sweater. Head tossed back and laughing with glee. Trusting. Trusted. Held. Safe in the arms of my father and my mother. Grounded. They offered so much. Did their best. Healed me. Broke me. Made me.

Skipping and dancing, I share my light. My unique image of God. Belly full. Day arising. Lovely. Beautiful. Creating and created.

Vessels

Vessels. Mother as vessel. Woman as vessel. Broken. Cracked. Whole. Sacred vessel. Holy vessel. Pregnant with hope and life.

A vessel for the season of Lent. If the vessel is closed, I cannot be fed. If it is poured to overfilling, it may crack. Today my vessel feels empty. No, it has been emptied for Lent with wonder and expectation, but the filling of Ash Wednesday was painful and venomous. I would rather be empty than filled with this poison. I do not enjoy this process of filling and emptying. Especially when my choice feels limited. When a fire hydrant opens and pours into your tiny jar, how can it not be tossed around, cracked or broken?

The choice becomes how to be in the brokenness. How to become a vessel that is open to let in the feelings that need to be felt, but to narrow the opening and not let poison fill me to the top. How do I learn to receive the pain that is mine to receive and not carry the guilt for that which I have no control over?

This season of lent feels so much about tending to my vessel. Being gentle with the cracks while not ignoring them. Mending the breaks that I can. Seeing myself as whole. A sacred vessel. Pregnant with hope and life…some days a little more than others ☺.

How are you called to tend the cracks of life? Have you ever considered yourself as vessel? What will help you stay open to God rather than closing off and obstructing your own pathway?

collage by lucy

Shadows

I just lit my “candle for writing” and simultaneously I am thinking about darkness. The words ‘shadow side’ are bubbling in my head. Why do we avoid our shadow? Steer clear if we can. Think it is ‘bad.’ We hate to even acknowledge that we have a dark or shadow side to us, but guess what ...pretending it’s not there does not make it so.

Lucy Van Pelt represents my shadow side. People have come to see “My” Lucy as playful and creative rather than bossy and crabby. Is it because I do not let her ‘shadow’ side come out so much on the page? Or is it maybe things have shifted inside me as I have come to embrace what she represents?

Lucy is my inner (and outer) critic, but she also motivates me. This was a great productive and creative week for me with much of it driven by shadow and hurt. There were dark pages in my visual journal that I have not shared. And, my ‘darker’more challenging soul collage cards did not appear to be well-received (at least based on the lack of comments). Ironically, the process of making those cards helped me process some of the chaos and anxiety I was experiencing thus helping shed some light so-to-speak.

If you look closely at my collages there is always light in the ‘dark’ cards and darkness in the ‘light’ cards. (This is unintentional, by the way.) Just as initially Lucy Van Pelt was rejected by me as too crabby, bitchy & bossy, she has now become my greatest ally as I have learned to embrace her.

My greatest joys have come with much pain….(childbirth, for one.) Also, who has not experienced deep loss of some sort? If the hurt is acknowledged and processed, is there not some growth and healing that happens? Sometimes the best thing to be able to do is say, “I am sad” or “I am having a shitty week”, but in some ways I feel censored to be so honest. (My inner censor speaks loudly.)

One reader said I was in a “dark” period and subsequently quit commenting—resulting in more sadness over that loss. Others may consider overabundant joy and consecutive weeks of fabulousness to be too shallow and impossible to believe. So where is the balance? For some reason FDR's quote: “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself” comes to mind.

I need to be able to share when I am sad and when I am joyous without being afraid of the response (or lack thereof). My emotions produce great creativity from both sides. I do not believe that makes one better than the other. They are simply different, but it appears that “darkness’ is less appealing to many. It seems frightening perhaps.

The length of this post is beginning to 'frighten' me now ☺, (I do prefer shorter discourses). So, for today I am going to consider why you (I) run from the shadow side. Or maybe you don’t. Either way I’d love to hear your thoughts on this. Why do you run or avoid shadow? How do you embrace it?

Wishing you lightness in your day, so you may also see the shadows ☺. Peace.

photo by h3images

collages by lucy. see related post here.

This is what I see...

I look into her eyes and see the wisdom of the world. Young. Old. Ancient. She transforms into the white-bearded God. The humble servant. Christ on the cross. Mary. The eyes of the ancients. The core. The source. The atom of God.

I see God in those eyes. All-knowing. Kind. Wise. They are my eyes. At my core. At my source. They are my heart. My soul.

Again she grows the beard and wears the ancient robes. She spreads her arms and lifts into flight. God. Sun. Source. Water. Fire. Earth. Air. The promise of the rainbow. The covenant. The wings of angels. The stars in the heavens. Creator of heaven and earth. Miracle of transformation. Dark & light. Serious & playful. Mischievous. Serene. Calm. Reaching—not striving. Moving. Growing. Changing. Transforming. Universal.

I look into those eyes and I see peace. Life. The paradox of creation. Unique. Odd. Magnificent. The tree of life. The covenant of the rainbow. Welcoming arms. Arms that say, “This is my world. Come to me. Look at me. See what I can do. You can do it too.” She is I and so are you. The source of life. The atom of God. The core. The beginning. The seed. Rest. Chaos. It’s all there.

The eyes of a child. Where we meet God. Yea, lest you become like little children…that is when you enter the kingdom of God. She speaks to me. She calls me. She touches me. Light. Life. Wisdom. Source. The tree. The miracle. The eyes of the world. The stranger. The foreigner. The dog by my side. My beautiful children. Everyone. I see the world when I look into those eyes.

collage by lucy. see related post here.