Drafty Window - Part 2

"Someone touched me; I know that power has gone out from me." - Luke 8:46

In my last post, I wrote about my drafty window and today the conversation continues. As I ponder the warm air seeping out my window, I'm reminded of Jesus' story when he felt his power leave him as the woman in need of healing touched his garment. He said, "Someone has touched me." Is this how I feel as I'm aware of others' pain? Does compassionate power flow out to meet others' needs? Do I offer it willingly or is it sucked out unknowingly? Is warm air drawn out with the draft or does cold air come pouring through the window? How does another's hurt blow through the crack in my heart?

Compassionate hearts are at risk of being drained of their own life. Sacrificial giving can end in death. So, today I ponder the balance between offering myself in service of others and protecting my warmth and health enough to have something left to give. It's like the leaky window. Do I want to plug the cracks so the cold can't get in? If I do, does this mean my warmth will no longer flow out?

Drafty Window

"Other people's pain is the wind on our house(s)." -- Betsy Pearson

The favorite room in my home is my studio and office. It is painted a brilliant color that brightens my day every time I see it. The walls are adorned with art and artifacts I've intentionally collected and each piece holds significant meaning. My studio is a place I can get messy, play and also work very hard. It's a place of comfort and rest, so it's ironic that it also encompasses one of my least favorite things - a drafty window.

Pondering this window with a friend, it came to represent a powerful metaphor in my life. The window has its special qualities which make it hard to replace. It folds gently in the middle thus allowing fresh air to pour in during the warm months while also buffering the wind which can be too chilly in this Northwest climate. There is a certain amount of protection and control from the climate. In the winter, however, the North wind blows stridently and seeps through the broken seals. Even as I wrap myself in cozy quilts, the air is chilled and impacts my warm heart. It's like the whole world is coming in through the cracks and there isn't enough heat to warm us all. It is the blessing and curse of having a heart broken wide open. There is a crack in everything that's how the pain gets in. Sometimes there is enough warmth and compassion. Other times the draft chills me to the bone.

• Step outside and feel the air on your skin
• Imagine each breath of air contains someone's pain and another's joy
• Breathe deeply and experience the connection with the whole world
• With your out-breath, send a warm blanket of love, joy and compassion into the Universe

More Anne Lamott...

"Asking for something is risky: I might be refused. But if I don't even ask, I'll never hear "yes." - Karen Casey

If you're one of the three people I know who hasn't heard me talk about my meeting with Anne Lamott, then this post is for you. My wild story began with placing Lamott's image on a vision board - here - which was followed up by an experience of actually meeting her in person - here.

This post is about the power of setting an intention and asking for what we really want. Last week I submitted my article to Spiritual Directors International re: the time with Anne Lamott. When I heard back from the editor, she said she loved the piece and would like to use it in their May publication. May seemed like such a long way off and my essential self said, "I want more... now"!! So... I asked. Long story short - they printed the article yesterday on their blogsite and will run it again in their May publication. I am thrilled and so proud of myself for having the courage to ask for what I desired. Remember - if you don't ask, you can't receive YES!!

Where does your heart long for more? Is it possible all you need to do is ask?

I hope you'll click on over to the SDI site and read my post there. Please say, YES.

comfy couch by lucy

Clear Your Windshield

Under ideal circumstances, my morning meditation leads to setting an intention for the day. A few days ago the words "clean and clear" popped into my mind. As I pondered their meaning, I recalled the previous morning when I arrived at my car only to find a hard frost covering the windshield. Being in a hurry to get to yoga, I was frustrated and didn't have time to properly scrape the windows. (Rushing and frustrated to yoga?!?!? I know. I know...) Using my Seattle Art Museum membership card as a not-very-effective tool, I managed to clear just enough space to peek out the windshield. It was still dark outside and the space was narrow, so I was on high alert as my body crouched tightly the entire way to class. Anxiety was my companion, because I didn't know when a bike, car or pedestrian might cross my dimly lit path. It was quite uncomfortable yet I pressed on because I was in a rush. I managed to arrive at my destination without incident, but the way certainly wasn't very "clean and clear."

Isn't this just like life? When we're not clean and clear with ourselves (i.e. when we ignore our feelings or circumstances), we jump or startle when something comes out of the dark and/or live life curled up inside ourselves. How much better would it be to have a clear windshield and less obstructed vision? Doesn't clean and clear sound more satisfying than crouched and constricted? The obstacles don't necessarily go away, but with clean space we have increased opportunity to see clearly.

Where does your windshield need a little more clearing? Want some help getting clean with your personal intentions? I'd love to lend a hand (or an ear). Check this out...

Meeting Anne Lamott - or Do you Believe in Magic Pt. 2

"It's not convenient to be a seeker. You may look a little nutty." -- Anne Lamott

I believe. I believe in God, magic, and a universe that comes together in indescribable ways. I believe in my power to make things happen and I understand I have control over nothing - absolutely nothing. I believe each and every moment in time has the opportunity to be life-changing. They are all worthy of being placed in the mosaic of our life. Some pieces just shine a little brighter, but even within those chards are miniscule elements forming to create the whole.

Saturday was one of those shining moments for me. When did the elements begin to form? As my wise son offered, "Mom, who knows how or why things aligned like they did, but they did." Yep, they sure did. Magic happened. God showed up. The universe did its thing and I met one of the greatest writing inspirations in my life, Anne Lamott. Holy Cow! I seriously met her, as in was introduced, sat down, held hands and prayed together MET! Over 1,000 people in attendance at Seattle University's "Search for Meaning" event and I (only I) had a private conference with her. How the heck did that happen?!?!?

The series of seemingly uneventful happenings could fill pages. In a nutshell, it went something like this: somewhere between my envisioning, I invited a friend to go with me, we ran into her friend who happened to be getting coffee for Anne, when I offhandedly mentioned my article, and the next thing I knew, the keynote speech was ending and my friend and I were being ushered backstage like rock star groupies. "You'll have just a few moments with her, because she's really not seeing any press today." "I'm not press," my panicked self sputtered. OMG, my inner critic started yammering "Fraud! Fraud! You're a Fraud!" My essential self got me into this mess by following my heart and then my social self took over. Be perfect. Intelligent. You have to make the most of this time. She's more important than you. They're going to know you're a fraud. And with all of those words, my brilliant and calm self vanished into thin air until I sat there sputtering like a bumbling fool. Finally I said, "I think I just need to breathe." In that moment, I remembered why I admire Anne Lamott as she offered me grace by taking my shaking hands and said, "Let's pray. Would that be ok?"

Yes, I believe in God, magic, and moments when I know there is a power greater than I. Period.

Stay tuned for more wisdom from this day and my article for Spiritual Directors International coming soon.

Do you believe in magic?

"Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life, and it is the main obstacle between you and a sh*tty first draft." -- Anne Lamott

I’ve carried around a picture of author Anne Lamott for nearly two years. It's been tucked in my image folder - waiting. I’ve also been in love with Lamott's style ever since I heard the concept of writing the “sh*tty first draft.” Her words have motivated me out of many a creative slump and encouraged me to check my perfection at the door and thus put things out into the universe I never would have dreamed possible.

But, what does this have to do with magic? Well… I’m currently enrolled in an enrichment course and in the class we’re visioning what our ideal future looks like. For me, it’s all about feeling versus fact. Things like freedom, creativity, joy, play, spirituality, connection, curiosity & spontaneity – my absolute favorite things! In creating a vision board, I intuitively gathered images to capture my feelings and placed them on the mandala. Lamott’s picture is the perfect reminder for me to Keep Writing! So, on she went. (Check out 3:00-ish on the board).

What's so magic about that you may ask? Well... less than 48 hours after completing the board, I got a phone call from Liz Ellman, the director of Spiritual Directors International, inviting me to attend Seattle U's “Search for Meaning” and subsequently author a piece covering the keynote speakers… Drum roll, please. Anne Lamott and Tarik Ramadan. I nearly fell out of my chair!!!

Of course I’m going and the visioning continues in my mind. I now see myself at the event chatting it up with Ms. Lamott (actually, she’s invited me to call her Anne.) When I introduce myself she intuitively knows I’m special and a part of her tribe. She hands me her card and says, “Call me anytime.” Or better yet, “I’m alone here in town. Could you grab a bite after this? I’d love to hear more about your work and your “Sam”. Oh yea, I’m cool, calm, collected and oh so very excited. She loves the idea of my new book, “Pondering with Presence” and hopes we’ll stay in contact. {pinch pinch}

The magic continued when yesterday on our class group call, the instructor randomly made a reference to none other than dear Ms. Lamott. We weren't even talking about writing! So, this post is my confessional and 2nd vision board. Methinks, I’ll go for broke and print it out. Perhaps when I hand her my copy of bird by bird for autograph, I’ll slip her the letter along with my business card. I mean what’s the worst that could happen? Arrest? Psychiatric commitment? She tosses it in the trash? Public humiliation? She’s not a nice person? (I think that would be the worst!) Perhaps she’ll at least admire my bravado and be just a little curious about whether or not we belong to the same tribe ☺. Do you think she believes in magic?

Ok… Time to wake up from dreamland and get on with the tasks of the day. Who knows what will happen next? I believe in magic. Do you?

Celebrate St. Brigid

Today is the feast day of St. Brigid of Kildare. I can feel her flame burning in my heart and the warmth of my dear friend’s embrace as we stand on the holy ground of Brigid’s well. St. Brigid of fire and water, you are a kindred spirit kindling the flame. My flame of passion and fire burn strong. A passion for life and living it to the fullest - not just watching the days go by, but truly embracing them.

Certainly there are times when my flame simmers rather than blazes. A time of tending in the night as when the Celtic women put their fire to rest – minding the fire so it could and would be rekindled at the break of day. How do I tend my fire? Today with an early rising – allowing time and space. (A fire needs space to breathe, or it suffocates when the wood is packed too closely.) A hot shower and steaming coffee warm me inside and out. The lamp’s glow illuminates my surroundings. And in my heart, I hold warm memories of standing at Kildare with the spirit of dear St. Brigid.

“May the blessing of light be on you, light without and light within. May the blessed sunlight shine upon you and warm your heart till it glows like a great peat fire, so that the stranger may come and warm himself/herself at it, and also a friend. And may the light shine out of the eyes of you, like a candle set in the windows of a house, bidding the wanderer to come in out of the storm.” --Irish Blessing

Peace be with you on this feast day of St. Brigid of Kildare. May the fire in your own heart be illumined and warmed today and always.

© St. Brigid - 2009

A is of Annealing & Alchemy

This morning I discovered a new word, annealing. "Annealing" is a heat treatment wherein a material is altered, causing changes in its properties such as strength and hardness. It is a process that produces conditions by heating to above the recrystallization temperature and maintaining a suitable temperature and then cooling. Annealing is used to soften material, relieve internal stresses, refine the structure by making it homogeneous and improve cold working properties.

The description resonates so clearly with what has been seen as my "original medicine" - the ability to raise the heat level higher than normal temperatures, foster a shift in conditions and refine structure. My desire and ability to step into the hard places (Johnny Cash and Martha Beck call it "the ring of fire") while holding a space of compassion and kindness allow the dross to be burned away. Heating can feel dangerous and it's risky to step out of our comfort zone. I continue to learn from personal experience beginning with the time in my life when it became evident my children weren't willing or able to maintain malleable existences. It became imperative for someone (me) to shift out of a brittle existence and move into something more free flowing - otherwise the fracture could have become irreparable. So, I'm learning to "anneal".

Alchemy is a similar word I've been drawn to for awhile. It means the art of transmuting metals. I think of it in terms of seeking inner wisdom through a process of burning away the unnecessary shell to get to the precious gold (or diamonds) that reside within each of us. My original medicine is to find the gold in everything - including and perhaps especially fear. It's a little scary to announce to the world my own original medicine, but being one who supports stepping into the fiery ring, I choose to live it in order to give it.

While this post feels a little rambling, it's important for me to get some of these thoughts out there. I wish this blog offered polished thoughts, but alas, this is where my training wheels play. Or in the words of the wise Anne Lamott - this is where (reader beware) my sh*tty first draft often lands.

Annealing & alchemy. I invite you to consider where the process of softening and reshaping may be welcomed by stepping into your own ring of fire.

Original Medicine

Refining and expanding seems to be a full time endeavor as I begin 2011. It's fantastic, exciting and has kept me away from these pages too long. I miss my blog peeps! I really do. AND - oh my, there's lots going on in Camp Lucy.

One of the foremost ideas on my mind these days is something called "original medicine." Gail Larsen shares this in her book, Transformational Speaking:

"...we are all "original medicine," born to this earth with gifts and talents that are ours and ours alone. If we do not bring those gifts and talents forward, they are lost to the world for all time."

Powerful stuff, huh? Within days of hearing about original medicine, I found myself working with this quote from Martha Graham:

"...because there is only one of you in all time, (your) expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it."

These messages speak loudly to me and remind me that I have something to offer the world - even when my inner critic says, "Who do you think YOU are?" No one is me nor thinks exactly like I or has experienced what I have in the same ways. My goal/role is to find what wants to be birthed into the world - by me. If I keep my expression close to my heart, no one else has the chance see it, feel it or experience it. It's not my job to make others believe anything. It is my desire to share as authentically as I can, warts and all. This is integral to the process of refining and expanding.

If I live in a way that is transparent, authentic and open (TAO), others may begin to see that they, too, have permission to do the same. I lived for most of my life believing that everyone else had "it" figured out better than I. But, no one can figure out me better than I. No one else knows what makes my heart soar or my pulse quicken. Only I know what is best for me.

I'm not sure how much original medicine exists in this post, but my hope and prayer is that something sparks within you (as I ramble on reminding myself of my own spark.) And, if you need permission to share your original medicine... I, lucy of the light, take great pleasure and honor in granting it to you. Now, quick, go be you!!! Namaste.

© lucy & bella - sinai, 2010

Fruit or Veggie?

Words - fruits - veggies... I wonder how else I will be defined this year...

How about you? If you could describe your essential self as a fruit or vegetable, what would it be and why?

Everyone is a teacher

Reminder to self – Everyone is a teacher.

As a group facilitator, I often have the privilege of being taught by my students. During a day of reconnecting to creativity through restoration and rejuvenation, I invited participants to select an image to introduce themselves. The images were as varied as the people around our circle, but my teacher of the day presented in the form of a sprite of a woman, weighing no more than 90 pounds fully clothed and soaking wet. Well into her 80's with hair of spun silver, she wore a bright scarlet dress accessorized with a huge medical collar strapped around her neck.

With twinkling eyes, she held in her hand, a photo of a rugged snow-capped mountain with soaring peaks. Out of her mouth came the words, "I am one who explores the trails." Incongruous as it might seem for this frail woman to make such an unflinching statement, no one who witnessed this scene doubted her. In fact, I could actually envision her roaming that mighty mountain as she shared deeply from her heart, her memory, and even her future. With her words, her stature grew and she became the towering mountain. I could see all dreams come true - hers, mine, and the world's. It was a glorious moment.

To live fully is to believe in dreams, unflinching truth and living our heart's desire. Today’s teacher demonstrated all of those wrapped in a petite package of wisdom. May we each learn from her example.

Consider today:

· What is your heart's desire?

· What trails do you hope to travel this year?

· What would it mean to speak the truth out of your deepest desires?

Announcing... My Word(s) for the Year

My words for the year have been colluding and whispering to me for weeks now. First I thought it was one and then the other, until finally I realized they were a pair that begs to work in tandem in the coming months. This morning I finally sat down and let them dominate my morning pages, so it seemed like as good a time as any to announce them here. Tada!!! Announcing....

Refine & Expand

What does it mean to refine and expand? To refine feels like letting go, not necessarily of big things although some will feel big. I love flexibility - movement - fluidity and "Water" (last year's word) emphasized both fluidity and flexibility. I also really like structure coupled with freedom of movement. I want to refine the structure of how I do things. Not necessarily the bold "Fire" way of two years ago, but softer - wiser - more delicate refinement. Like working on the tiny details of a painting, not with massive burst strokes across a giant canvas, but intricate adjustments like the light in an eye or the pollen of a bloom. Details. Refinement.

As I refine, there will naturally be expansion. "Dream Big" continues to show up and I know my life is meant to be Big. (Isn't yours?) I've experienced BIG hurts along the way, and in return - not as payback or to be fair - I've also experienced tremendous joy and contentment. When you let go of (refine) your hurts, the swing of the pendulum automatically makes room (expands) for great joy. Big risks offer Big paybacks. My skydiving experience was a HUGE fear that turned into a hallmark experience of undeniable, impossible to explain exhilaration and joy - with a side benefit of new-found bravery!

I don't know exactly what the expansion will look like and I'm ok with that. I'm starting a new training course next week and it's going to be extensive and expansive. I'll be expanding my tribe, my knowledge, my world view and a few more things I can't name right now.

Refining and expanding will include clearing and cleaning out the clutter in my life. I refuse to live small and hidden. In the past, I have dug into the depths to unbury myself in some pretty BIG ways. In 2011, I plan to continue to dig, but with a teaspoon rather than a backhoe - that's refinement. One small step. One spoonful at a time. That's where I believe I'll find the treasures this year. It's like an archeological dig. It's easy to find the giant sarcophagi, but painstaking to seek out the tiny carved buttons. Refine & Expand - there you have it!

If you've chosen a word for the year, I'd love to have you share it here. If you haven't considered what yours might be I invite you to sit quietly and see what finds you. Carrying a word for the year can be a truly magical and "expansive" experience. I hope you'll join me!!

Be like water flowing...

Water. My word for the year. I began 2010 by taking solo winter walks along the shore not so far from my house. As the year draws to a close, I find myself nestled into a friend's seaside cabin with my beloved husband. Water has greeted me with her fluid mystery and manifested in ways I could never have imagined. My winter vacation included a lesson in surfing and a mesmerizing experience with a sea turtle. Who would have thought that my annual trip to Bermuda (an island surrounded by Caribbean sea) would be traded in for a journey to the Sinai desert - especially in the year of water? I've learned throughout the year to "go with the flow" and as 2010 sails to a close, having rushed by like a flash flood, I find myself grateful for the seas I have traveled this year.

A favorite story crossed my path a few days ago. It is the tale of a man who has the choice between a map and a boat to accompany him on his journey. Choosing the boat, the grand master offers these words - "You are the boat. Life is the sea." Wherever we find our center (our boat), we have the ability to go with the flow, weather the storms and enjoy the immensity of life. My boat has carried me well this year. I've patched it when necessary and provided a new coat of paint or two to spiff things up - always remembering it's very important to care for my vessel! New journeys are on the horizon for 2011 and I look forward to cracking the champagne across the bow as we embark for the new year.

My word(s) for 2011 have already bobbed to the surface. However, today as I watch the mighty wind push the waves across the Sound, water deserves its honor. Stay tuned for the 2011 word announcement!! My prayer, for now, is to continue to be like water flowing and see what fills my cup in the days and weeks to come.

Bullies in Disguise

Layers and layers of discovery. I move. I rest. I pause. The layers shift and morph. Refining my way toward freedom. Awhile back I had a memory arise and while I’m not sure it’s an actual event, I don’t know why I would have made it up – unless, of course, I needed it to help me with something else.

The scene is pretty precise. I’m 6 years old and in the first grade. I’m in the narrow cloak closet at school and we’ve just come in from recess. I can smell the damp coats and feel someone behind me pressing my face into them. It’s another child, I’m certain. I can’t breathe. A vise-like grip deepens on the sides of my throat – pudgy fingers, I think. My fear tightens as a knee or elbow presses into my spine, stuffing my face further into the darkness of the fabric. The bully tells me to “Stay quiet, or else.” My nostrils fill with the acrid smell of wet wool. I want to scream, but my mouth is buried and the words won’t come. Suddenly, there’s a flurry of activity and the grip releases, the pressure comes out of my back. I’m alone and disheveled in the closet. No real harm, right?

The metaphor to my life is immense. The internal struggles over voice, aloneness and importance are core. They are battles I’ve been peeling the layers off for years. They move and shift and morph. Recently, I’ve had a grown-up bully attempting to put the vise-like grip on my authentic self. (S)he came disguised as someone who wanted my help (which is very seductive for a caregiver.) How long would I allow the knee to press into my back and stifle the scream rising in my chest? It wasn’t until I invited this person to leave that clarity came and I felt the relief of speaking up for what I wanted and needed. The pressure released and I was not alone.

This week in my Advent retreat, we are pondering what it means to say, “Yes.” What is the risk? Will you say yes to your longings? For a moment just ponder the danger of continually saying, “No” to your heart’s desire.

Risk

What does it mean to ask for what I want?

I asked and I received.

Writing. Reading. Creating.

Say Yes!

I asked and I received.

Don’t limit.

Say Yes!

The shadow is the bully.

Don’t limit

My writing, reading, creating.

The shadow is the bully.

What does it mean to ask for what I want?

My Advent Prayer

Allow me to see the face of this day
Let me enter into each space with intention
Crossing the Holy thresholds
Touching the Ancient stones

Let me enter into each space with intention
Do not allow me to cloud my own vision
Touching the Ancient stones
I will be the face of this day

Do not allow me to cloud my own vision
Crossing the Holy thresholds
I will be the face of this day
Allow me to see the precious face of this day

© Kayce Stevens Hughlett

A Winding Journey

As I read today's Advent reflection from Birthing the Holy including a poem by Linda Hogan*, I was reminded of a SoulCollage® card I created awhile back. Pulling it out, I began to write and noticed the weavings of this season begin to take shape and offer me this message:

I am one who stands at the threshold.
The cave of death surrounds me - death to past.
The Ancient bones beckon me and tell me to follow my dreams. I am in good company.
If I will raise my eyes to the heavens, I will see the light ahead.

It has been a winding journey - and will continue to be,
but the Ancients are with me and the river is flowing -
"It doesn't look back to where it's been or wonder who ahead of it has polished the rough stones.
It is following the path in its fullness"*
And it's time for me to do the same.

Don't look back.
Raise your eyes and see the expanse before you.
The Ancients are with you. God is with you.
Lift your eyes to the heavens -
to new life.

Anyone There?

Themes of birth, awakening and mothers float through my mind. Vivid dreams invade my night and wake me like a whisper from my sleep. I roll over, turn off the alarm and sink into that space where dreamland meets dawn. The space between past, present and future cannot be delineated and my earliest memory drifts into now. I am older than one and younger than two. Standing in my crib with an earnest look on my face, I am not crying or distressed. I appear to be reaching, perhaps not with my arms, but only with my eyes. Anyone there? My eyes stretch into the room beyond the recesses of my barred bed and beckon, Anyone there?

Isn't that the question I still ask today? In times of lament, I turn to the ancient lie I tell myself. I am not important. I will always be alone. Was no one there? Sharing my 10 year old brother's room, I wonder if he resented my presence from the beginning. I recall the black eye my mother received when she bumped the door jamb during a nightly visit to me. Would she return again?

So odd, these memories. So very interesting. Anyone there is what I continue to ask today. Will you read my work? Hold my hand? Laugh at my jokes? Kiss my lips? Notice my hair? Anyone there? Are you paying attention? Do you see me? Is it possible I still carry the look of a one year old standing in her crib - reaching and searching for connection. Anyone there?

What are the questions you ask yourself or the lies you whisper when past & present merge?

photo - Paris

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.

Fetish Focus

DiLoPi writing prompt #9 - Write about a fetish, totem, "blankie" or other centering object that you have a) owned and revered at one time or 2) currently own and revere or 3) that your character owns and reveres or 4) that you wish you owned and revered.

Earlier this morning I was writing about being infused with thoughts or images that pass our way. We don't necessarily know they've even entered our consciousness until they pop out somewhere down the road. Continuing my journaling, I ultimately found myself answering the above writing prompt that recently showed up in my mailbox. Here is what I mused:

Starting my day with news and distractions, doesn't work for me. If I first open up my e-mail, then I'm off down a rabbit trail that often takes me away from a life-giving focus. Even though good stuff abounds - if the computer is my first default - I'm off on the circuitous trail that beckons and pulls. The flashing images are seductive. My iPad and iPod lie next to me and my MacBook is just across the room. Oh my, have they become my fetish?

Oh, the seductiveness of this technology. I curl up in bed seeking warmth and comfort. The devices call to me and promise excitement, community, new information - even devotions. I meet my friends there. My sister - fellow bloggers - the characters in Grey's Anatomy. Christine brings morning greetings and DiLoPi offers writing prompts.

When I'm lonely and bored or wanting to distract myself, I reach for a little piece of technology. I decide it's time to work or create, possibly both together. So, I turn on that glowing screen. For a moment, I choose to pass the beckoning e-mail, but... I know it's there. Just one peek? Perhaps a quick look? I tell myself. And... once I succumb, I've lost my own momentum. A force other than I has taken over and I'm off down the rabbit trail. Minutes turn into hours and ultimately a day. Frustrated with my lack of accomplishment, I turn for the comfort of more surfing. Perhaps just a blog site or two? Maybe a stop by the forum at SCS?

Will I be satisfied? It's a crap shoot - especially when I reach without forethought. I stuff another URL into my brain like stale cookies I can't even taste. I know this, and still I'm like a zombie drawn to fresh blood. The blink of the light. The push of a button. Just one more taste...

My fetish? I've vowed to turn let it go or at least I'm taking back control. I'll choose to curl up with a book instead of my iPad. No e-mail before meditation or morning pages. No infusion without first checking in with there I am! The news can wait 30 more minutes. I'm learning to block the path of the rabbit trail with timers, boundaries & mindfulness. Finding where technology nourishes me rather than allowing it to become obsession. That's often the problem with a "good" or favorite thing. We manage to manipulate it and cross the line into over-indulgence until it turns into something we don't love quite so much. Hmmmm... Gotta stop now and see what my iDictionary says about fetish :)

fetish: any object eliciting unquestioning reverence, respect or devotion

snowy pictures from 2008 - although I'm looking out the window in WallaWalla where it's snowing right now.

Retreat, Relax, Respond TODAY!!!

Registration for the Online Advent Retreat ends tomorrow!



Birthing the Holy: An Online Creative Journey through Advent and Christmas
November 28, 2010 - January 9, 2011
Program fee of $125 includes weekly reflections and daily emails by Christine Paintner on six themes of the creative journey, plus 10 songs by River's Voice, guided movement prayer videos by Betsey Beckman and her storydance of the Annunciation, and guided SoulCollage® experiences with Kayce Stevens Hughlett.

What good is it to me if Mary gave birth to the Son of God fourteen hundred years ago and I do not also give birth to the Son of God in my time and in my culture? We are all meant to be Mothers of God.
-Meister Eckhart (15^th century German mystic)

Each of us is called to participate in bringing God to birth in the world. We each hear our own annunciations and invitations to enflesh the sacred creative call of our hearts in service to others. The seasons of Advent and Christmas invite us into a profound reflection on this invitation and the movement toward birthing as well as offer us archetypal themes that call us to take our creativity seriously.

Do you long to make the seasons of Advent and Christmas a more meaningful time of prayer and reflection?

Do you want to make space to listen to your deepest call in this season of birthing?

Join me along with some very special guest teachers, musicians, dancers, and artists, for a six-week creative online journey into the heart of the Advent and Christmas seasons. Through movement, music, visual expression, poetry, and prayer you will be guided in reflection on six themes of the creative journey. Make a commitment to a retreat in everyday life and let this winter be a journey of transformation. Begin the New Year from a place of deep reflection and intention.

Saturday, November 27th is the last day to register!

Can You Plan Destiny?

My last post ended with the words, "I'm off to plan my destiny." Can one really plan their own destiny? I truly love the idea of letting go and allowing surprise to happen. I am also discovering that my nature actually enjoys some discipline in the process of going with the flow. Impossible? Well, consider this: a river has banks; the oceans have shores; showers have stalls. Even where water is concerned there are some boundaries.

For the last couple of weeks (since attending the fabulous DiLoPi workshop), I have created a lovely rhythm for my days. In the past, I've typically awakened without alarm, structured my schedule around "official" appointments and hoped I would accomplish all of the other things I wanted to do during the time in between. What I found was there was never much (if any) time to work on my passions. In other words, going with the flow allowed my dreams to get washed down the drain or at least soaked to the bone. The rhythm I established looked something like this:

Meditate
Morning pages
Book writing
Get ready for work
"Official" Meetings
Exercise
Creative work
Family time
Read & Rest

What I found was there was almost always time for everything and then some. By setting both specific times to do things and holding to the boundaries, my satisfaction level, as well as my productivity, went way up! So, why am I talking about this in past tense? Because Sunday, I failed to set up the boundaries and decided to go with the flow. Big mistake!! I made it through my first two items beautifully and then frittered away the rest of the day. I ended up feeling like a slug and just a pinch of salt could dissolve all of the goodwill I'd been developing toward myself for the last several weeks. Geez Louise, it's so easy to slip into old patterns! And, once I'm aware of what I'm doing, it's possible to dry myself off and jump back in the flow.

Planning my destiny? How about if I start by planning one moment at a time? I'll let you know how that goes.

So... what are you planning today?

photos ©Ireland, 2009

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

Riding the Wave of Breath

Before daybreak and slightly bleary-eyed from my night's sleep, I enter my studio. Touching match to wick, the soft glow of candlelight enters the room and morning shadows dance across the walls. Tenderly I curl myself into a comfortable cross-legged position, close my eyes ever so slightly and offer myself to this new day.

Inhale. Exhale. I ride the wave of my breath. As I meditate, there are moments where my curiosity stirs and I wonder from where this tranquility comes. I sit in silence and follow my breath. In. Out. One. Two. Three. Four. My body settles into a gentle rhythm. With the inhale, I hear the sound of wind through aspens. On the exhale, a storm is brewing in the midwest. My thoughts float by like gentle clouds on a summer day. Grounded. Breathing. Simple. I am tranquil. Again, I wonder how I got to this place until even that thought drifts on by. In. Out. One. Two. Three. Four.

Sometimes you take my breath away...

There are moments in life that simply take my breath away. It’s hard to know where they begin or how I arrive at the place I am called, but in those moments, I know I am exactly where I’m supposed to be. A power greater than I has brought me to that place. Some of the moments are so subtle they would be easy to dismiss. It’s similar to that feeling when the phone rings and you know who’s on the line before you pick up the phone.

One of those moments found me yesterday. It was a gorgeous day here in Seattle. The heavy rains lifted and the skies turned cornflower blue without a cloud to be seen. My body craved to be out in the fresh air and fortunately my schedule allowed the space to be. One of my favorite kind of walks is what I call destination walking. It’s particularly helpful when I feel like I have a lot to do, because it gives me both a break and I accomplish something. This morning I ventured to the bank while listening to a conference call. Multi-tasking at its best ☺.

With ten dollars in my pocket for coffee, I exited the bank and took my normal right turn toward Tully’s, but something inside winked at me and said – Let’s go somewhere different today. Doing a 180 degree turn, I headed back down the street and came to a shop I rarely frequent. The barista was smiling, the coffee delicious. While waiting for my latte, I glanced around the café noticing the wonderful trinkets, artisan cards and fuchsia tutu pulled over a t-shirt. With little money in my pocket, I resisted the urge to fully browse until a glittering display of necklaces caught my eye.

Coffee in hand, I turned to make my exit, but couldn’t resist the pull to take just a peek. Each necklace was like a little story on a chain. The first (and only) one into my hand contained the single word BE encased in a golden sparkly bubble. Next to the bubble were two other charms – a bee and a flower. This is the moment my breath caught. Here on one simple chain were the three lasting symbols from my Egyptian pilgrimage – word, flower, bee. The necklace was made just for me.

What’s a girl to do? No money – no real need for another necklace. They’re just things on a chain, right? So, I headed out the door back into the sunshine, sipped my latte and tried to memorize the designer’s name until I got home. Peeking at her wonderful website, my heart stopped again when I realized maybe that necklace was made JUST FOR ME, because there wasn’t another one like it on her site. Well, you have to know the rest of the story, because the picture here has given it away. The necklace is now mine and I will wear it as a proud reminder (one that came in loud and clear while on pilgrimage). It is time to BEEEEEEEEE… and all that entails for Me!!

So… I’d love to know what are your moments of simple or sublime synchronicity and serendipity? When you hear a tug that says turn around or do something different, do you listen? Who knows? You could be missing out on something made Just for You!!

photos taken 11.11.10 © lucy

Fondling a Story

Oohhh, baby, have things been stirring for me since attending "Walking into Fire." I'm moving from playing with this idea of being a writer into seeing what it feels like to live into it. My morning routine has shifted and I've added meditation into my practice and have revived my relationship with morning pages. It's like picking back up with a long lost friend - there's no lag in the conversation and topics bounce all over the place.

I'm resisting the urge to censor and refine my words here, because this is not the place for my "polished" work. Here is where I move one step up from morning pages and meet the discipline (& fear) of putting something out into the world. I'm also doing it without much thought (really?)WAAAYYY to whether or not anyone reads - even though I've noticed my reader comments are down. Oh those pesky little voices that keep us from moving forward, huh?

During the retreat on Saturday we were asked the question "What is my story as writer" in line with having a FALSE investment. This reminded me of a phrase used in Steering by Starlight called "story fondlers" referring to people who hang onto stories that keep them stuck and not moving forward. This morning I thought I'd share my personal response. It is so like my life (not surprising), because there are bits of truth woven in with a whole lot of you've-got-to-be-kidding-me!!

Writers are brilliant and know what they're going to say before they ever start writing. They understand their plot and characters and the work comes easily to them. All it takes is setting aside the time and their story will come out with little need for revision and filling in the blanks. Their stories come out rich and developed and ready for copy editing. The words flow like water and the structure falls into place without blood, sweat and tears. They send their manuscript off to be received by every publishing house they submit to.

Well, that's my story and I'm NOT sticking to it - except of course that writers ARE brilliant!! In the meantime, I'll continue to tweak my schedule, listen to my gut and WRITE!!

So, my dear friends. What's the story you fondle that keeps you from living your brilliant life?

"Steppin' out" - © lucy 2010

Brain Washed - part deux

As I look at the list of things I’d like to remember, there is a theme that runs through my memory beginning with the sun on my skin and ending with the weight of heartache. Warmth is the word that comes to mind…and Sensual.

I am a sensual being. I cannot live – truly live – (nor would I care too) without the memory of my senses – the sun on my skin, the hot breath of my old Golden Retriever, the cozy comfort of a warm bed when the nip of winter pricks at my nose.

I am a being who loves to spread her arms – her angel’s wings – wide open, embracing and welcoming adventure and creativity. Near the top of my list is my trilogy of pilgrimages – Paris, Ireland, Egypt. Each came wrapped in its own shimmering tissue paper, waiting to unfold with unique footsteps along my path.

Who knew I was a woman craving warmth? Is that what passion evokes in me? Heat? The feel of the desert air upon my Pacific Northwest skin. The allure of Parisian cafes and language dripping in romance. The warmth of a pint of Guinness sipped from a frothy mug in a cozy tavern surrounded by laughter and friends.

Heat draws me forth and pushes me outside myself. It beckons me toward the core of my being which is hot as fire. A shimmering star. Fully me – laughing and shining. Can warmth get any broader than that?

Heat draws me forth and pushes me out. The blood rising in my chest and pumping at rapid speed through my veins while standing in the open door of an airplane at 10,000 feet. “Do or die,” my heart says. I feel the breeze on my skin, whoosh of air rushing at the speed which keeps an airplane afloat. My senses expand and it’s time to trust. “Bend like a banana,” says my hunkie angel and the blood rushes from my face as we free-fall in the autumn air. All senses are alert. The arms of God are holding me now. The taste of fear has left my mouth. The whoosh is all I hear. My skin is brushed with evening sunlight and my eyes take in the Washington panorama with rapid-speed slow motion. I am a sensual woman.

What of the other things on my list? Humidity and heartache. Sand and sea. Parenting and pendulum. My list is made of senses and experiences, not necessarily people and places. Hmmmm. I am not a collector of things – not a material girl as Madonna might suggest. I love experience. I love heat. I am not afraid to walk into fire. These are the things I can write about, because I have been present to them. I’ve shown up for my life – not always, for sure – but perhaps that is why the experiences are so important to remember. Perhaps that is my legacy. I want them written down, because I don’t want to forget. That was the prompt after all, wasn’t it? Your memory will be erased in 5 minutes. So, if I remember…

the sun on my skin then I will always know what it is to be warm. If I remember the kiss of my husband, the hugs of my children and my sister’s unconditional love, then they will be with me always. To remember the Sinai desert is to speak of clarity and timelessness. Paris offers rhythm and independence. Ireland teaches me what it is to heal. The ineffable moments speak of a power greater than I – shall I call this God, Universe, or something more?

Curry’s breath and Aslan’s purr show me the wisdom of being in the moment and the power to simply Be. Knowing my truth lets me rest in that being, if only for nana-seconds that speak of an all-knowing One. The drop of the skydive shows me that fear can be faced and turned into exhilarating joy and power. The ocean on my skin, sand in my toes and Bermuda blue offer tranquility and calm with just a touch of unsurety.

Humidity in Oklahoma, mosquito bites and climbing Mt. Sinai, all share a measure of pain, but without that pain I would not be who I am today. And, speaking of pain comes with the reality of childbirth and the heartache of parenting – the arrest of a child, the separation from a soul mate.

My coffers are full and the pendulum swings from joy to sorrow and back again. Light turns to darkness. Fear turns to self-love. The senses wrap me in life. If this is what I could remember, it would be enough – more than enough.

So, have you made your own list yet? Quick... your memory will be erased in five minutes, what will you choose to remember?


soulcollage cards ©ksh

Brain Washed

Yesterday while attending a brilliant writing retreat, we were given a prompt by the charming Patti Digh that went something like this: In five minutes your brain will be erased, what do you want to remember? As you might imagine an interesting flow opened up. As I sat down this morning, I didn’t particularly intend to share my list, however, it seems important for me (not necessarily you – sorry, dear reader, but I am writing for me). My inner muse says, “Write this down and capture it again.” So here goes, remember this, lucy:

Sun on my skin; the kiss of my husband; hugs of my children; the Sinai Desert; Paris; Ireland; God; ineffable moments; Curry’s breath; Aslan’s purr; knowing my truth; feeling the love of God; the drop of the skydive; the ocean on my skin; sand in my toes; Bermuda blue; humidity in Oklahoma; Egyptian mosquito bites; climbing Sinai; my children being born; the heartache of arrest & addiction; jammy days and Gilmore girls; Soltura Island; the Big Dipper; falling stars; freedom; strength in my body; the love of being seen; bees in the desert; satisfaction of a job well-done; comfort of a cozy bed; that my parents loved me; my sister’s unconditional love; seeing and being seen; the smell of rosemary; the weight of heartache; the swing of the pendulum

Undoubtedly there are things I’ve missed or left out - we had only five minutes, you know? Nonetheless, as I expanded further on these thoughts in another free write, my finishing words became:

If this is what I could remember, it would be enough… more than enough.

Your turn… In five minutes your brain will be erased, what do you want to remember? What would be enough?

Timeless Truth

Slowly, slowly I am revisiting my desert journals and bringing the pages to light. The following words were written the day after climbing Mt. Sinai while continuing our visit at St. Catherine's Monastery.

9.27.10 Early morning

Time does strange things here, and we haven't even gone into the raw wilderness yet. We lie wrapped in cocoons of comfort - warm beds, air-conditioning, a roof over our heads. We are wandering, yet... Something ties us here. What? What do I mean? Let go. I'm tied to my watch and the sense of a certain number of hours of sleep I need. I am tied to the group and the roommate who sleeps beside me. Tied to the convention of the world - the rhythms of others.

I awoke sometime during the night and thought it was morning - thought my roommate was already up and in the shower. I felt rested and ready to start the day. Then I looked at my watch and saw it was still the middle of the night, so I "knew"/thought I should go back to sleep. A similar thing happened the night before. I awoke feeling as though I had slept for hours and realized it had been maybe one or two. Am I so stuck by conventions of time and space? What does it take to let go?

What does all this mean? In Paris, I found my own rhythms - some nights I watched movies until the wee hours. Others I slept early in the evening. Yesterday, a quick nap after climbing Mt. Sinai felt like ten hours of hard sleep. Is that the timelessness of which we speak? Where the telling of a story days before combines with the clicking of hiking sticks to become weaver's needles and our pilgrims' steps of today merge with centuries of others' who have gone before? Did our climbing footsteps encounter the imprint's of Moses? Was my hand holding the palm of an ancient Egyptian or perhaps even God herself when I pressed my fingers into the stone inside the pyramid?

The messages are myriad. Can I decipher them or am I called to let the mystery be? What is truth? Truth comes in moments. It came when I looked into the eyes of the Sinai Christ and know he beckons me. When my fellow pilgrim hours later described the same experience and in one moment we know and we are known. Truth comes when I hear our prayer warrior describe her call for us to have the angels lift us up when we are weary and I remember and know those angels were there. Truth arises when our resident yoga master subtly mentions @ Camelot - "Do you know why camel pose is called camel pose? It's not only for the hump, but also for the kneeling," and then I share with her my "camel" journey over the past months - struggling, breathing,being curious and ultimately having two beautiful camel poses the week before this trip. In that moment, she knows why she said those words to me and not someone else. We are united in ways we cannot fathom.

"I want to hear, and I want to be heard,

I want to eat, and I want to be fed,

I want to be made whole , and I want to make whole,

I want to be united, and I want to unite." Acts of John - Christ Hymn - 3rd Century CE

The longings of our heart cross centuries - cross time. Some say there is no such thing as time. The weaving of the tapestry - the carpet laid out before us by Abraham in his tent at Camelot. We are being woven together in a new story. This sweet band of pilgrims.

Have you ever experienced that sense of timelessness? Those moments of truth where words are not needed to 'Know'? Yesterday, a friend asked me what was the gift I received in the desert. Timelessness was the word that rose to the top. Timeless Truth.

photos ©lucy:

view from St. Catherine's courtyard
Sinai Christ
Abraham's tapestry

Shadow

You must make friends with the shadow or you will die.

A simple sentence written on a marvelous, sunny day in the Sinai desert. You must make friends with the shadow or you will die. I continue to be amazed (although not particularly surprised) by the subtle and not-so-subtle ways that messages I gathered while on pilgrimage continue to follow me home.

The contrast of landscape and weather between fall in the Pacific Northwest and anytime in the desert couldn’t be much greater. We are experiencing deluges of blowing rain. My feet are already threatening to grow webs and the shadows come in the form of muted grays everywhere instead of pockets of charcoal tucked inside sun-soaked rock formations. It is a time of transition from one season to another, from Africa to North America, from spaciousness to city, from ancient wisdom under each footstep to modern tugs for my attention at every turn.

I had a particularly difficult week last week and fortunately already had a session scheduled with my spiritual director. I went in with blank check in hand hoping she had more free time available, because I was certain I needed to spend the day unpacking with her. Alas, we kept to our hour session, but the work continued long after I left her home. Stopping at a nearby park, I pulled out my journal and while watching the turning leaves drift across my path, I let the words flow onto the page. Somewhere tucked inside the outpouring were these words: “Face my own shadows – aloneness – failure – incompetence.” I might as well have added “or you will die.”

Leaving Volunteer Park, I went the “wrong way” and while circling back around, I saw a beautiful golden retriever tied to a post where he was surrounded by lunch pails and pint-sized jackets. He was clearly the watcher for his children who were inside the building doing their own exploring. My heart tugged and I automatically pulled the car over and got out to greet him. He was the risen image of my dear old boy, Curry. He let me pet his coat and stroke his belly as if we’d been old pals forever. I gazed into his chocolate brown eyes and for a moment was lost in time as his unconditional love washed over me. Tears formed as I remembered the grace and care my companion of 13 years had offered to me without reservation. Curious to know who I had just met, I reached under his neck for his dog tags while asking, “What’s your name boy?” Turning over the silver medal, the name appeared in bold letters: SHADOW.

Need I say more? The message was clear to me – my own shadows long for unconditional love and care. They don’t deserve to be dismissed or shoved aside just because they’re uncomfortable. Desert? Rain-soaked earth? The message is still the same. I must make friends with my shadow or I will die.

Today I invite you to consider the places tucked in the shadows of your being that are waiting to be befriended. Today would be a great day to give your shadow a little light – no matter where you live ☺.