Simple Woman...Simple Day

Browsing the wonderful sites on the web is one of my favorite things to do. I am always so inspired by what others are doing and offering to each of us. I found this "journal" at Inspired (how appropriate is that?). The direct link, however, goes to The Simple Woman. I decided to use this journal format today to remind myself of the beauty of simplicity.

FOR TODAY (June 25, 2009)...

Outside my window...the sky is overcast with the occasional tease of sunshine. The rhododendrons are releasing their final blooms and the wind gently reminds me that the trees are alive.

I am thinking...it is a gift to be alive. To have the senses of taste, touch, smell, sound and voice through my written words.

I am thankful for...this moment and all it encompasses.

From the learning rooms...(if this applies) are not all rooms, rooms of learning?

From the kitchen...fresh yogurt, slices of mango, deep red raspberries; all sprinkled with raw oats and accompanied by warm coffee.

I am wearing...my p.j.’s: soft cotton boxer shorts commandeered from my dear husband and an oversized Texas t-shirt from my friend in Dallas, covered by my thermal pink hoody. My feet sit cozily inside my Uggs. ☺

I am creating...this moment. (and later my new professional website.)

I am going...to sit on the beach with my dear friend and contemplate possibilities later this afternoon.

I am reading...mainly blog posts with an occasional dip into Angela’s Ashes and my significant pile of books.

I am hoping...I will stay present to all this day has to offer.

I am hearing...The hum of the white-noise machine left on from last night and the chirping of birds outside my window.

Around the house...all is quiet. My daughter sleeps soundly in her room while I type quietly in my studio.

One of my favorite things...Laughter! ☺

A few plans for the rest of the week: Tomorrow, I am connecting with a friend I have not seen in 33 years! Facebook rocks! Hanging an art show with hubbie. Watching my daughter play soccer. Breathing in life!

The picture thought I am sharing...is at the beginning of the post ☺!

So that's my simple day. I'd love to hear about yours!!

photo in my studio today.

Blissed to be a Witness

I am blissed to be a witness. You read it correctly – no typo. I am BLISSED to be a witness. Last week I traveled home to the Key Peninsula, the site of Soltura workshops. No, I don’t live there physically. Seattle is still my place of residence. But, my soul returned to its bliss-filled home where joy, light, love, laughter, fear, darkness, peace, conflict, death and life can all be safely experienced…and witnessed.

As I have journeyed on my path toward authentic life, I have come to know myself and the places where I feel most alive and connected. Many of those places have been witnessed by those who read here. I find joy in the simplest of things. A jellyfish. My garden. Friends. Nature. Reading. Writing.

Yesterday while driving across Lake Washington with my i-pod shuffling around, Ben Harper’s song, Blessed to be a Witness, came on and I experienced one of those bliss-filled moments. It dawned on me that the sense of contentment that has flowed through my veins for the last week was connected to my experience of being a witness to other’s journey toward authentic living.

Witnessing life is an honor and an amazing privilege. It takes me out of a me-me-me state of mind, and in the process brings me back to my truer self. I am indeed blessed and blissed to be a witness.

This is not a totally new concept to me, but it is one of those special realization moments that I desire to share – lest I forget. So, consider yourself a witness today. ☺

What are the moments you have experienced the power of being a witness? Do share!

Peace and bliss-filled blessings to you!

"heart in the sky" 6.09 - lakebay, wa

rites of passage

If you haven’t checked out my tagline recently, now would be a good time. The more I learn, the less I know. It seems whether it be about self-exploration or broadening horizons in general, this axiom holds true. Beginning the road to self-discovery is enlightening and it is a bit like opening Pandora’s box. There’s really no going back once you’ve started. And just when I think I’ve looked at every aspect of my personal being (or not), something new pops up. It really is the beauty of being an unfinished woman.

My latest case in point came as I was reading William Bridges classic book, Transitions. In it Bridges talks about rights of passage and how the modern culture has basically done away with formal markings of passage. Thus we have to make up our own and it is not usually done with any intentionality in mind. It may just kind of happen. Bridges says:

“It’s worth reflecting on this early transition (i.e. coming of age) in your life because that point may set the style for your later transitions.”

Being the ponderer that I am, I spent some time with Bridges’ suggestion. And here is what I discovered:

It often takes a really BIG stick to move me out of an established pattern and into transition. You know…things like, say, near death experiences. Mine have been more in the spiritual, emotional and even metaphorical realm, but I also had huge life transitions after each of my parents’ physical death.

This “big stick” theory led me to recall the midwife who helped birth my son saying “You have a really high tolerance for pain.” Yep. I can put up with a lot for a really long time before the pain finally gets to be too much. This can be both a very positive trait (Parenting is a great example as is working as a psychotherapist); AND it can be harmful in terms of my own health (spiritual, emotional and physical). The cool thing is with this new knowledge, I can decide if and how I want to proceed since I might pick up on my pattern a little sooner. Actually, I believe I have already started to do so. This new knowledge just gives a different way to frame how and why I repeat patterns in my life.

My invitation today is that you, too, consider Bridges’ suggestion. What did the early transition in your life look like? When did you “know” you were no longer a child? Can you see ways this ‘right of passage’ has followed you into adulthood? I’m going to keep pondering. I hope you will too!

photos from bermuda, 5.09

fun friday

So, both of these things came into my mailbox today and I couldn't resist putting them together.

"Whatever you give a woman, she will make greater. If you give her sperm, she'll give you a baby.
If you give her a house, she'll give you a home. If you give her groceries, she'll give you a meal.
If you give her a smile, she'll give you her heart. She multiplies and enlarges what is given to her.
So, if you give her any crap, be ready to receive a ton of shit."

So...do you think there's a woman on the other side of that window?

reminders

The days are full - long - bright. I sit for a few moments this morning gathering my thoughts.

My candles burn - one labeled, "togetherness"; the other "everyday sacred." A stone of black sits at their base and reminds me of the earth and darkness that complements and threatens the light. A spiraling shell represents water and so much more. Finally, a pure white feather whispers to me of air.

Words float everywhere around me - in books - music - my mind. The music reminds me to breathe and my old friend, Merton, speaks to me of the beauty of this time of day when night turns into morning. When everything is new and possibilities abound.

"The fire of a wild white sun has eaten up the distance between hope and despair.
Dance in this sun, you tepid idiot. Wake up and dance in the clarity of perfect contradiction." --Thomas Merton

What are your reminders today? Will you take time to notice the beauty that abounds?

photo by lucy from st. andrew's retreat center 5.09

generous and gentle

"Light is incredibly generous,
but also gentle.
When you attend to the way the dawn comes,
you learn how light can coax the dark.
The first fingers of light appear on the horizon,
and ever so deftly and gradually,
they pull the mantle of darkness away from the world."

John O'Donohue - Anam Cara

still transitioning?

As I continue to sit in a very transitional place in my life - I wonder are we always in transition? William Bridges in his book, Transitions, says: "Every transition begins with an ending. We have to let go of the old thing before we can pick up the new one - not just outwardly, but inwardly." It feels like I am always letting go of something. Something ending. Something beginning. Some times it is joyful. Other times heartbreaking. Letting go of even the hard stuff is not easy. Welcoming in the good can be terrifying.


Mark Nepo offers a quote that has stayed with me for several days. I am offering it here so my transitional brain might hold onto these thoughts.

I have been broken and have failed so many times that my sense of identity has sprouted and peeled like an onion. But because of this, I have lived more than my share of lives and feel both young and old at once, with a sudden heart that cries just to meet the air. Now, on the other side of all I've suffered so far, everything, from the quick song of birds to the peace trapped inside a fresh brook's gurgle, is rare and uncertain. Now I want to stand naked before every wind; and though I'm still frightened I will break, I somehow know it's all a part - even the fright - of the rhythm of being alive.

Fire needs air to breathe.

Any thoughts from you on transition? Sprouting & peeling? Breath? Shadow & light?

the photo is a treasure from a dear friend in honor of my recent post on shadow & light. thank you!

Me and My Shadow

"Who are you?" said the Caterpillar...
"I - I hardly know, Sir, just at present," Alice replied rather shyly, "at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have changed several times since then."

--Lewis Carroll Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

Discoveries from a recent photo journey. These images were taken in preparation to facilitate a group of women in an exploration of light and shadow. I co-lead this group with the lovely Christine who has graciously dedicated her poetry party this week to me. My offering can be found here.

The cat's tail moves in perfect harmony with its shadow. Does my shadow move in perfect harmony to me?

Could these wings fly?

Filigreed Concrete

Crossroads?

Shadowed Green

Have you ever considered your relationship with light and shadow? Do you favor one over the other? Consider taking a photo journey of your own. See where you are drawn. Come back and share what you've discovered! My shadow and I will be anxiously awaiting!!

streams from the shower

a full day ahead of me, i just wanted to share this little epiphany that came to me in the shower this morning. i spent about five hours working in my yard yesterday. glorious. really it was an amazing church experience. i have so much fullness flowing through, but need to head out the door momentarily.

anyway...the gardening i did yesterday was the kind of work that nobody notices unless you don't do it. you know, pulling out the weeds that threaten to take over the healthy plants. thinning out some of the good stuff, so it can shine a little brighter and breathe more fully.

so, that's my epiphany...do you see how that is like life? doing the work nobody notices (maybe even yourself) unless you DON'T do it. it's important stuff!!

sorry for the brevity, but you're a smart bunch (of flowers)...i'd love to know what you come up with as you ponder the weeds of your life and even the thinning of "good stuff" that might need to happen. so, how does your garden grow???

gotta run. have a grand day in your garden of life!!

enCouragingBliss: What would you sacrifice?

What do you want? What do you really need? What would make your soul burst into the flower, into the universe that it was born to be? And what are you willing to sacrifice to get there? These are questions posed by BlissChick on her latest post: enCouragingBliss: What Would you Sacrifice?

Pondering these questions, I sat down with pen and paper and this is what poured out: What do I want? What do I need? I want my family to be healthy and whole. I am one of the lucky ones. I do not have to worry about whether or not there is enough food on the table or where we will sleep at night. If my children want to go to college, we could make that happen.

I have the house – the car – the life that many people dream of having and I am VERY grateful. I have made choices – even sacrifices – along the way. We live in the “starter home” we bought 20 years ago. It is more than enough. We chose to live our life on one income. It has been a good income. Like I said, I don’t have to worry about much. Still I ponder…what do I want? need?

I want the freedom to go for a walk in the sunshine – to put pen to paper – to watch my children reach adulthood. I would sacrifice my life for my children, but I will not sacrifice my living – my bliss. To live means to explore the depths of my heart – to experience joy which can come from something as simple as rolling in the grass with friends - to feel sorrow so deep that breaking glass or throwing rocks in the ocean is all that can suffice.

In regard to material things - I repeat - I have been very fortunate. In addition to the house – the car – the children, I have an advanced education, access to books and music. I could attend opera, plays, visit museums and other cultural events if I so desire. Still, I come back to the simple things. Watching a child play in the park. Scratching a few words into my $2 composition notebook. Walking hand in hand with my husband to watch a sunset after a day’s work.

In light of the economy and life’s uncertainties I take none of these things for granted. I return to the questions: What do I want? What do I need?

I need connection with people – with nature – with God – with myself. A roof over my head which I have imagined as a motor home of simple means or a lean-to on a Mexico beach. Basic food – rice, beans, veggies & fruit.

What would I sacrifice? How do I begin to name sacrifice? BlissChick calls it “sacred and holy choosing.” Holy choice. I believe I make holy choices every day. Will I spend time with God or will I sit down and veg out in front of the tv? Will I expand my work to help others or will I focus only on me? Will I fix a meal with love for my family or drive through a fast food restaurant and fill my body with toxins?

Yes, I have a choice. I have the means to drive my car and purchase food. Still I hope I am making conscious choices to live my bliss. Bliss knows that creating art with crayons and scratch paper can be as powerful as traveling to Paris to visit the Louvre – that spaghetti with loved ones is more important than dining at a 5-star restaurant alone – that riding the bus will give me as much contentment as touring the country in my convertible.

I know I have these choices. I have worked hard to have them. I work to hold onto the choice. I have lost friends and social status because of my choices. It is not easy choosing to be different. I have been considered “whacko” or “out there” because I navel-gaze and consider my bliss. I would go to the wall for authentic connections. I would sacrifice much – all – anything for the three most important relationships in life: God, Others & Myself.

Thanks BlissChick for asking these questions. So, what do you really need and what are you willing to sacrifice to get there?

six words...& more

Living in Paradox
Integration is Hard

This morning I spent some time pondering the wonderful book, Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six Word Memoirs. The above words are what popped out for me today. I realize I could exchange the words “living in paradox” with “light and dark”; “full or empty”; “fire and water”; “me and God”, etc. I think you get the picture. Living a life of paradox is all of those things… “difficult and simple”… the list is never-ending.

My past several weeks have been all of the above and more. Lots of wrestling going on. In more than one context the question of whether or not it is “better” or “less painful” or “more glorious” to have insight has come into conversation.

While walking this morning these words came to me. “The bigger the light, the larger the shadow.” So, if I am indeed FIRE…BIG FIRE. What kind of shadow will I cast? If the pendulum swings far into sadness will not the law of physics swing it to the same degree of joy and back again?

So what of integration? How do we live fully into joy and sadness without getting whiplash from swinging back and forth? If our eyes are open, we see not only the amazing beauty of the simplest pleasure, but also the great depth of pain that pervades the world.

I sit in a time of letting go. Every birth is a death of something else. (Today is my beautiful boy's birthday). Every death means a new way of existing is being created. (Two weeks ago was the 5 year anniversary of my mother's death). Six weeks ago, I left a job I have loved. This weekend was shared with wonderful friends. Last week was time well-spent with amazing women including my fabulous sister. Like I said, lots of wrestling. Lots of joy. Lots of sorrow. Integration is hard. Six word memoirs? Six word responses? I’ve missed these conversations and look forward to hearing from YOU!

welcome the dark

Go to the place of your greatest fear
and there you will find your greatest strength

-- from Glendolough - A Celtic Pilgrimage

image from lucy's book of hours

Posts I'm pondering today: Abbey of the Arts; BlissChick; MindSieve

Dancing with the Jellyfish

"Nature...a source of renewal and perspective, a place to be made whole." Mimi Farrelly-Hansen

Walking on the shore, I find myself staring at transparent beauty. Beauty began to stare back at me – to cry out – to breathe and gasp – “Help me” “Save me” “I’m melting…melting”.

Breathing or melting? The sun drying out her ethereal body. Only a spark to be left at the center.

The core. The center. The soul. The outer withering away. Dried up and gone with the wind.

The jellyfish pled to be saved. She looked at me from that transparent soul. “Water of life, I need you.”

And so the dance began. Scooping her up with a sheet of broken plastic – garbage left in the sand. Scooping and tossing. Over and over again. The currents – the waves - would not cooperate. They would not carry her out to sea.

Watching the rhythm – landing her in the ocean – she began to swim. Her tentacles spreading and floating. Beautiful and deadly. They are her power and they are deadly. I nearly forgot they could harm me, so mesmerized by the beauty was I. Her power full and floating free. Could she escape to the open sea?

No. She was destined to arrive on the shore. I could not save her. Did she know and feel that I fought for her? Scooping and tossing again and again until I knew I could not save her.

And so I left her by a rock. A small pool of water keeping her moist. Life giving. Life sustaining. Maybe that small pool of water was enough to nourish her. Perhaps the tide changed and pulled her back to sea. Back to see the depths of the ocean.

Did she know I fought to save her? Was that enough? Did she know?

Will I let my power flow or will I tuck it under and shrivel up and blow away?

She was 85% water. The sun drying her out. The heat. The fire of day. Shriveling into sand. Beached upon the earth. Blown away by the wind. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

Perhaps the morning rain released her. Maybe her soul dropped into a new body. The joy of a dog. The laughter of a child. The brilliance of a woman.


photos by lucy 5.07.09

Sun & Sixteen

One of the greatest gifts in life can be having a friend who knows you well. You wonder and ponder whether they were with you in another life or silently observing you throughout the years. You experience those moments when you say, "how did you know?", But then it doesn't really matter does it, because they have seen deeply into your being, and to know and be known needs no response at all.

The following poem was gifted to me this week from one of those wonderfully amazing friends. Were she and the poet laying on the grass beside me? I wonder...
Thank you, C.

The Sun Lover

The long afternoon after church

a girl lies on the lawn,

glazed thighs slightly parted,

fingers splayed like petals. At sixteen

she is a virgin. While her parents nap

in the quiet house, she knows

the sun is teaching her about love,

how it comes over your body

making every muscle go soft

in its pitiless gaze,

how it penetrates everything,

changing you into something dark

and radiant. She craves it,

knows it is everywhere like God’s love,

but difficult to find. She waits,

entirely still, trying to see her eyelids–

not lingering traces, but the lids themselves

luminous and red as the cheeks of the kid

who stuck a flashlight in his mouth at camp.

She squints so the tips of her lashes

flash like iridescent fish scales.

Every hour, she turns over but prefers

to face the sun. All her life

she’ll measure loves against this

gentle ravishing. She’ll spend afternoons

alone on crowded beaches, and at home

stand naked before mirrors, amazed

by the pale shape of her suit. She’ll touch

her cheekbones’ tingling pink, and nip

at her lover’s shoulders, as if

it were earth she were after.

-Julia Kasdorf

photo of me at 16

scribbled on a scrap of paper

diving into the depths...
do i fight or
will i surrender?

are you leading me
in my dreams?
will i awaken
to an ongoing nightmare

or shall peace
finally flow & wash
over me
with new, abundant
life?

now that i'm free...

Feeling slightly less discombobulated...I spent some time yesterday in nature with only the elements and creatures as company. Earlier today I found this very apt poem by one of my favorites, Mary Oliver.

Now that I'm free to be myself, who am I?

Can't fly, can't run, and see how slowly I walk.

Well, I think, I can read books.

"What's that you're doing?"
the green-headed fly shouts as it buzzes past.

I close the book.

Well, I can write down words, like these, softly.

"What's that you're doing?" whispers the wind, pausing
in a heap just outside the window.

Give me a little time, I say back to its staring, silver face.
It doesn't happen all of a sudden, you know.

"Doesn't it?" says the wind, and breaks open, releasing
distillation of blue iris.

And my heart panics not to be, as I long to be,
the empty, waiting, pure, speechless receptacle.

-Mary Oliver from Blue Iris

I'd love to hear what this poem says to you. Personally, I find myself hanging onto the first and last stanzas. Now that I'm free...

discombobulated

I am really having a hard time finding my center these days. Perhaps it is being away from home and routine. Late nights filled with a little too much wine and festivity. Groggy mornings spent lounging and sipping cappuccino while the ocean breeze blows across my face. Is there such a thing as too much paradise?

I wonder if the discombobulation comes from too much activity – lack of routine – overindulgence. Or perhaps is it a result of my recent “retirement” from a job and institution I have loved for five years? What comes of being surrounded by people who talk of high-level politics, economics and other “ics”? I want to indulge in matters of the heart, but find there are few doors in. My heart feels lonely and sad. I am a spiritual misfit here.

The crowds are thinning and I will hopefully have a little more time to center over the next few days. My favorite monk arrives this afternoon. Perhaps the spiritual balance will shift. I am really having a hard time finding my center these days. My writing feels stifled. My voice sounds hollow. And even my skin is having a strange reaction to the sun.

Weird unfurling and a struggle to list Bliss even as I sit in the middle of paradise. Wonder what’s up with that? Anybody besides me (and Sue) ever feel discombobulated?

are you awake?

"Only that day dawns to which we are awake." Thoreau

Posts to help awaken your May day:
Blisschick
Abbey of the Arts
Anchors & Masts

happy anniversary to us!

22 years of marriage. let the celebration begin (continue)!!
see ya later.

sometimes they do surprise us!

Yesterday I came home to find this lovely photo printed out and laying on the kitchen counter. It is a photo I have not seen before now. For those of you who might need a little context, the dog is my beloved, Curry, who left this earthly plain last Labor Day. The sweet face next to his is my teenage daughter who most often communicates in one syllable responses these days.

I wonder what she is trying to say now? Sometimes they do surprise us!

Pop on over to lucy creates to see today's Poetry Party entry. Peace.

sacraments and flowing water

“We are asked to pour ourselves out, trusting that in this act we will be refilled.” Christine Valters Paintner

“The universal call to holiness is an invitation to be ourselves. It’s also an invitation to remember the sacramentality of every day life.” James Martin, SJ

Pouring out. Seeing all things as sacraments. These themes swirl and spin around my mind challenging me to continue to reach for the unknown. I do not know what will fill me, but I know that in order to be refilled, I must make space by pouring out. I stop and consider the times I have emptied myself out of obligation rather than love. When it has been duty rather than sacrament. The “filling” looks quite different – resentment and loneliness instead of peace and sanctity.

Where are the places I dam my flow of love? Where do I allow old hurts to get in the way and feel myself building dams rather than letting the springs flow? Where is God in all of this? Am I so self-sufficient that I tell God to get lost? How ludicrous is that – the impossibility of even trying to lose God since God surrounds me in the very air I breathe?

Sacraments and flowing water. God is calling me to be more fluid. Fluid with acts of self – allowing love to fill in the cracks and crevasses rather than building a dam or trying to patch them with illusions. Seeing life as daily sacrament.

Yesterday was a Sacred Sunday – filled with small acts of kindness. And, in those acts – providing a ride, preparing a meal, folding laundry, listening to others, reading a manuscript – I was indeed refilled. I listened to the call to be fluid. In this unplanned response, the crevasses were washed clear and I was reminded of the truth that resides within.

photo © h3images

enCouragingBliss: Building your Happy Place

Today I invite you to check out Blisschick's post on "building your happy place." This week's challenge is to create a collage of your happy place. I absolutely adore collage work and find it so enlightening to see what pops up.

For me, it's really important to not overthink the process, so this morning I set a few boundaries for myself. I opted to use just one magazine. (Today's choice was the May/June 2008 issue of Departures.) Flipping through the pages with the theme in mind, I intuitively selected images. The real challenge came when I decided to keep the size to fit in my visual journal (7" x 5 1/2 "). (I find paring down, helps me see what is essential.) So, I sorted through the pictures - cropping - tossing- rearranging - until I was satisfied with the layout. Glued them all down and voila - my happy place.

The visuals say much to me and I will probably add some journaling to complete this process. Perhaps it's time for you to consider your own happy place. This took me just about an hour from start to finish - not much time really in the big scheme of things. Isn't it worth playing with some glue and scissors to remind yourself what makes you happy?

Wishing you joy today!

pressing delete

so, i have been gone for more than a week and have not checked any blog sites in the meantime. today, looking at the nearly 200 posts in my blog feeder, i practically started to hyperventilate. at the risk of missing something very important while also attempting to maintain the rest and sanity gained over the past few days, i have opted to press delete and start afresh.

i may or may not get caught up on my reading and i pray i will not offend anyone with this act of self-preservation. i do, however, invite you to let me know if there is a "must read" out there that i may have missed in my absence.

looking forward to starting afresh...tomorrow!

pondering...

“i wonder if people i've just met sometimes "know" me better than those i've been around a really long time.”

I posted the above status on Facebook this afternoon. It is a thought I have been pondering since returning last night from a week in the heart of Texas. My main intent for the trip was to attend the Spiritual Director’s International conference and I ended up adding time to spend with a wide range of family and friends. The range included those who have known me my whole life, a college roommate dating back to the 70’s, and friends who I met 20 years ago upon arrival in Seattle.

My hope is to have some time to debrief on the SDI conference which was wonderful on multiple levels, but for today I continue to consider the beginning statement. “i wonder if people i've just met sometimes "know" me better than those i've been around a really long time.” These words arose as I looked back over the past week which was filled with many wonderful conversations and lots of reminiscences. The most memorable moment, however, occurred with a woman I met at the conference, spent no more than two hours with and very likely will not encounter again in this life.

It was one of those moments where I absolutely knew without a shadow of a doubt that I had looked into another’s soul and she into mine. Words cannot adequately describe, but my life has been indelibly marked by that encounter.

It leaves me knowing there is a Presence greater than I - One who delivers surprises when we least expect. I also wonder about the loneliness that can be felt when those who are supposed to "know" me seem to not really see me. I ponder how I might, too, be blind. Lots of curious questions mixed with contentment and gratitude for the moments that just are…for the God that is…for the person I am and the new ways I see myself each day.

I’ve missed our conversations here and look forward to hearing from you soon.

Peace and blessings!

better late than never

Of those who draw them to
the extreme verge,
the edge
that crackles:
that is
your beauty:
that is what
you do.

-Hilda Morley, “The Wild Cherry Tree”

a little late to the poetry party, i still wanted to share how these two images from abbey of the arts came together for me.

true confessions

Oh man, “high lucy” kicked into gear yesterday. The one who thinks she knows it all. The one who’s not quite sure where she stands in the world, so starts making stuff up in her head (or pulling footballs out from under people). Do you know that one? My more reasonable, mature (and I pray “normal” - ha ha) self has kicked back in this morning (I think) and so I hesitate to describe what was going on inside me as I took my seat on the second airplane of the day headed toward my homeland. Nevertheless (confession is good for the soul, right? ☺)…

Have you ever had one of those moments where you were near someone you have never met before and you don’t like them immediately? This happened as I sat down next to a woman on my flight from Dallas to Houston. I really didn't want to be anywhere near this person. (Now this doesn’t happen to me a lot, but airplanes seem to exacerbate the situation particularly when I am tired.) This time the reaction was strong. I felt like I was back in college for the first time meeting those glamorous girls from Dallas and I was the little hick from Oklahoma City. Perhaps it was her severely manicured nails or maybe the heavily teased hair. The super-tan or the over-sized designer handbag? I hate this about me – about humans, really – our desire to sum people up within an instant. I chastised my critical self for doing it (and then chastised again for chastising. I really am trying to be more compassionate with myself). Still I felt the discomfort sitting next to this woman. I observed her peripherally while she incessantly texted on her phone long after the flight attendants had said to "please turn off all cellular devices." I wanted to tattle on this woman. Yes, tattle! She was getting away with something and I wanted her caught! What was this?!??! Why did my normally compassionate, curious self so vividly disappear?

Lots of reasons come to mind with exhaustion hitting the top of the list. Anxiety probably running a close second. I could really beat myself up over this. Rather now, I wonder what hurt or need might have had her frantically texting well past the stop time. My compassion and curiosity start to kick in. I consider she is probably a nice person outside of her airplane seat. I recognize that my reaction probably had nothing to do with her specifically, but rather it really is all about me. Still…for a few minutes it was kind of fun to have someone else to scrutinize…Geez louise…what's a lucy to do? ☺.

How about you? Ever have one of those moments? What sets it off for you? When does your “high lucy” kick in?

coming out

I awoke this morning feeling risen and ready to bloom. I believe it is no coincidence that today is Easter. Those old critical and conservative voices in my head spoke of sacrilege…How can you proclaim yourself “risen” on the same day as Christ? But, isn’t that what Easter is about? The new risen self. The death of old ways and rising to who God has created us to be. Believe me, I do not take the Easter story lightly. I am indeed honored to “come out” on this holiest of days. It is through Christ’s example that I am offered the courage and strength to follow my passion. So here goes…

Hello. My name is Kayce and I’m a writer. Whew! There, I’ve said it. For those of you who are confused, I am also lucy. My work is loving the world. My passion is helping others and myself move toward more authentic and fulfilling lives. For several months now I have been aware that living this dualistic existence of lucy in the blogosphere and Kayce in the “real” world is some how discordant with the wholeness I seek.

It gets a little tricky, however, because I am also a psychotherapist who has various ethical considerations and boundary guidelines to uphold and respect. The issue of self-disclosure is where things can get a little messy. Should my clients know that I struggle and have bad days? Dare I let them discover that I don’t have it all figured out? What if they find out that I am – gasp – human?

After considerable pondering, I keep coming back to the notion of authenticity. I just cannot hide here anymore. It feels important to “come out.” I’m not sure how or if it will change what this space looks like or what I share. Be assured that lucy is not going anywhere for now! (She is after all the muse. If you haven't yet scrolled down the sidebar and read "Who is lucy?", I invite you to do that soon.) I hope bringing the two of us together will only enrich these offerings. There is lots of transition going on for me as I have recently posted. More details will follow in the coming weeks.

Please join me today in celebrating the wonder of Easter; the beauty of coming out; and my 500th post at Diamonds in the Sky with Lucy!!!

Peace to you, friends.

With love, lucy aka Kayce

It is Good Friday

It is Good Friday. So much to consider. Everything from the cross and all its meaning – old, new & yet discovered – to the students and peers I will say good-bye to next week. Where am I going? Today, I will venture to Tacoma to see my son – for whom I have suffered much and whose suffering brought me to new life. Where on the cross does that fit? I think of papers to grade – a trip to take – my daughter rumbling around in the kitchen – my husband who I enjoyed so much yesterday.

Why? Why all of these things? I feel the pressure to write of Good Friday. (“All the “holy” people are doing it”, says the b.s. in my head. “Move into silence like the other “good” ones.”) Oh my, the inner voices ring loud and I wonder how will I be generous with myself.

How do I get to be me? How do I follow my own voice – be who I am created to be? Who is God? What is God? How can we even define? Yet so many attempt. Attempting truth. Is truth not what we experience? Could truth be being present to our own experiences of each other – of the world – of ourselves?

“Easter and Passover make us experience in ourselves a call out of bondage. So experiencing them doesn’t destroy our religious traditions.” Joseph Campbell

How will I experience Good Friday – like me – like myself? I am aware it is the day of the cross. Do I need to run away from life today – hole up in my sanctuary and pray for hours? Perhaps – if that is what I am called to do from the deep core of my being. I think not. Instead I will go to see my son. How appropriate this mother and son should be together on this day. I will go for a walk with a new friend – breathing fresh air – building new relationship. “We are nailed together by the cross.” – a paraphrase from Jan Richardson’s must read post.

Life afresh and new. Letting the old die. “Whatever comes from a moment’s grace that joins us to our lives and to each other – this is spiritual.” Mark Nepo I would go on to say it is Holy - these things that join us to our lives. The candle that burns on my desk. Music drifting through the room. Clouds that cover the sun. Friends who await my call. God who speaks my name.

It is Good Friday. There is much to be considered.

photo of my son circa 1993

enCouragingBliss: Do Not Get Rid of Your Vice

“Do not get rid of your vice but make it work for your illumination rather than your degradation. Turn it around on yourself and transform it into your best virtue.” from BlissChick

Wouldn’t you think that finding your bliss would be all warm and fuzzy. Happy. Light and carefree? Wouldn’t that be delightful – and way too easy?!?! BlissChick, however, is a woman after my own heart and she is willing to dig deep and look at the hard stuff which in return helps us move closer to living our bliss – truth – image of God – or whatever you like to call it. In her current post, she asks us to consider how we might transform vice to virtue.

So, that’s where the tough work comes in. We must first name our greatest vice. Yuk!! I pondered her post for a minute or two, considered doing something else (i.e. avoiding the topic) and then my inner censors kicked in and shouted, “I am selfish.” So, I opted to pick up pen and paper and see what happens.

In writing about my selfishness, I began to find the virtue of generosity. So I posed myself the question of when am I most generous? Throughout the conversation, I realized another vice showed up – my self-critical voice. (Not so surprising!) Self-criticism is an easy trap in which to get caught, because I am great at being critical about being self-critical. (While writing this, I realized the virtue here is that I am very generous with helping others see and fight their own battles to be free of self condemnation ☺.)

Having come through this not-so-little exercise, I discovered the virtue to these two vices of selfishness & self-criticism both come down to one thing – generosity.

Be generous. Unconditional. What if I could be generous with myself - giving myself the love and care I need…while still being generous with others and knowing they may fail me, because they’re human just like me? A circle of generosity perhaps?

Thanks to BlissChick (and Joseph Campbell who inspired her post which I highly recommend reading) I shall be looking more closely at those places where I am both selfish and generous with myself and others. Not getting rid of the vice, but seeing how it might be transformed into virtue.

How about you? Are you up for turning some vice into virtue? What would it be? How might you go about it? I hope you’ll join in the journey and let me know what you find along the way.

stand firm

My ponderings lately have been many – my writings few. The theme of “stand” arises again and again. Today - “and having done all…stand.” Ephesians 6 :13. Yesterday - “I did not hide my face from insult.” Isaiah 50:6. Approaching the end of Lent, I consider how Jesus stood in the face of assault during his life and particularly at the crucifixion.

We are in the midst of Holy Week and even if you do not believe in the crucifixion and resurrection, it is still a great story. The images and metaphors of dying to self and rising again are powerful. Standing in the face of life’s trials and not backing down. “I did not hide my face from insult.” No matter what happens, stand firm.

Standing firm can take on many forms. It can mean grieving or gritting your teeth and bearing things. I see it as not numbly checking out or fleeing, but staying with some form of presence. I will not leave. “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” God stands firm. The ultimate image of parent. Again, even if you do not believe in the God story – choosing to parent yourself and stand firm in the face of life’s trials. Choosing not to leave yourself.

Feeling our feelings. Being impacted by others. Standing firm. Firm does not mean rigid to me. It is grounded. Perhaps my face in the dirt - head to the ground, humbly weeping. Terra Firma. The ground as holy. My feet planted deeply and entwined with the roots of the world – like an old tree that can be blown about and lose its leaves in a storm or provide shade in the heat of day.

Lord, may I stand firm with strength and tenderness for myself as well as others.

Where do you long to stand firm today? Where are you tempted to flee? How might you consider changing your view of what standing firm looks like? Is it full of strength? Tenderness? Both?

safe landing

Moving toward my morning meditative routine – candle, music, journal…I chose a play list I did not recognize called, Prayer. My husband discovered this music by a Native American artist named Douglas Spotted Eagle. My journalling began with the words transition, transformation and trapezes. Life lately feels like that space just before you really let go and fling yourself into the air. I am reminded of my skydiving adventure just before stepping out of the plane. I clung to the door and bowed my head in frenzied prayer. It is that place just before you let go. You know it’s coming. You know you have to let go or you will forever regret it. I had no choice really, but to release my fingers and fling myself into the unknown. It seems that in order for life to keep moving forward that is exactly what I must do: let go, trust the unknown, and pray for a safe landing.

My writing traveled through many transitions as it so often does until I landed on that old topic of having compassion for myself. I am excellent at having compassion for others (most of the time), but one particular liminal space – the space 'in between' of loving my teenager and really disliking her a lot – keeps getting in my way. My anger and resentment rise. The classic words of a mother ascend in my throat, but not quite out of my mouth: “I’ve done so much for you. How can you not appreciate me?” And then I get mad at myself for even thinking that way and then she acts maddeningly teenager-ish and I get mad at her, but more myself (‘cuz I have compassion for her) and the cycle continues…

So, I kept writing and did a little reading and landed here: “…the quest both to understand oneself and finally accept oneself was a key journey for me…” I felt like God had a bullhorn to my ear. But, I didn’t really want to stay there and listen so I kept moving and opted to look once again at the Merton prayer I passed over last night:

"Be still
Listen to the stones of the wall.
Be silent, they try
To speak Your

Name.
Listen To the living walls.
Who are you?
Who
Are you? Whose
Silence are you?"

And so I chose to be silent and still. The music played softly in the background. The candle quietly burned across the room. I considered compassion for me. My mind drifted. I gently invited it back. I found myself following the rhythm of a drum. The call of the silence. The stones of the earth speaking to me. Somewhere in there, “my name" was spoken. I "understood and accepted." I moved a little closer to myself.

The name of the song I had never before heard? Coming Home.

How might things be different for you if you let go of the trapeze and flung yourself into the unknown? Do you expect a safe landing or do you assume you will crash & burn?

p.s. After writing this post, I wanted to give credit to Douglas Spotted Eagle. Here is one of the links I found. He is a skydiver!!! Coincidence? Synchronicity? God stuff?

p.p.s. Here's another one. Check out enCouragingBliss: Return to your Garden of Eden. It's yet another way of Coming Home.

soul collage by lucy

the place in between

During this week leading up to Palm Sunday, I find myself surrounded by “the place in between.” Not dead, but not resurrected. Knowing, but encircled by mystery. Springtime – no longer winter, but the warmth of summer has not arrived. Hints of blossoming yet death still lies in my flowerbeds. Mourning a leaving and excited for new possibilities. Ending time with students – done, but not done. Living with a teenager – no longer a child and the adult has not yet emerged. Mid-life. Need I say more?

“I try to take on one day at a time, but sometimes several days attack me all at once.” Jennifer Unlimited – Hazelden

and my daily dose of Merton:

“O tongue of flame
Under the heart
Speak softly:
For love is black
Says the season.

Midnight!
Kissed with flame!
See! See!
My love is darkness!”

Would love to hear your thoughts on the place in between!