Angels in our Midst - Do you believe?

“A Warrior of the Light is never predictable.

She might dance down the street on her way to work, gaze into the eyes of a complete stranger and speak of love at first sight, or defend an apparently absurd idea. Warriors of the Light allow themselves days like these.” – Paulo Coelho

Are you a Warrior of the Light? Someone who’s willing to dream of angels and step into absurd ideas? Well, I am. This morning I awoke thinking of angels and other things that some might call “woo woo.” I opened As I Lay Pondering, saw today’s title, “To Be Known,” and asked myself what it would mean for me to be known right now in this moment. Hmmm.... 

Norah & the Watchers

Do you believe in angels? I do. They come in all shapes and forms—furry, human, dreamlike. Arriving in streams of light, laughing children, and a gentle touch. A stranger who appears and mysteriously vanishes. A fleeting thought, prickly neck or tingly skin. One of my favorite “angels” that shows up in both image and imagination is a curly-headed impish girl named Norah (translated as Compassion). My old golden retriever, Curry, emerges on occasion. And, of course, my purring companion, Aslan, is an everyday reminder of otherworldliness in present form. My long-deceased father has appeared on several occasions through music and nature; meeting me when I most need to hear him. Real or imagined? Truth or fantasy? What do you believe?

Recently a man perusing my ponderings mentioned to his wife that he thought I might be a little crazy. So be it. A warrior of the light dances through the street and people either join in the dance, run the other way, criticize, or pause and ponder. Which do you choose to do?

Curry Dog

There is a place of stillness where everything connects, disappears and comes into absolute clarity all at the same moment. I think of the Bible story of Jacob wrestling with God and his dreams of the ladder going up to heaven while angels ascended and descended. These kinds of stories have been with us since the beginning of time. The question is... Are we willing to believe? What happens when we slow down, step into stillness, and listen... deeply listen? Will God speak? Do angels show up? Is it the result of an overactive imagination or a mind running wild with thoughts and fantasy? Does it matter? Will it be any less real if I can’t hold it in my hand or capture it in a digital photo? Perhaps I am a touch mad, but today my mind returned to a very real experience I had during a meditative time in Arizona this spring.

When I closed my eyes and the meditation began, our moderator simply mentioned the word “stage” and I felt the spotlight shine upon me. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had these longings since I was a little girl. Do we all dream of being on the stage? Yes. No. Perhaps. I believe our “stages” simply take on different forms. [Pause and ponder: what your stage might be? You know, the one you see when you close your eyes.]

Check out that Boa!

Moving down the pathway of my mind, golden-haired Norah greets me with her playfulness and compassion—her is-ness. In her unique way, she invites me to simply be. Before me on the ground lay an apple that I witnessed just before the moderator invited us to look up rather than down. There to my right were grand marble steps leading upward to the stage. A brilliant curtain crafted of magnificent red—the color and texture of my feather boa—reminds me there is nothing insignificant about my essential self. She is meant to shine! (I know this and yet I doubt it in my current mind... not the meditation). Returning to the dream state, I am invited to leave Norah, my guide, at the bottom of the staircase. I don’t want to take my journey without Compassion, but Norah reminds me that she is always with me. All I need do is ask.

Moving up the stairway, I see a being with shoulder-length hair. He glows with strength and light emanating from within. Before I can ask his name, I know it is the Archangel Michael whose card lay “randomly” on my chair before our session began. The Angel turns and points to the audience spread before the stage. It is filled with adoring fans—people asking for my gifts... my gifts... MY gifts. The people do not clamor. They simply stand before Michael’s outstretched hands—before me—and wait. They snake around my viewpoint—like the final scene in “Pay It Forward”—holding lights and waiting. They are honoring me and know I have the gift to share with them. I am awed and honored myself. Michael is brilliant before me and he is part of me. Strength and courage. Like Norah, he will always be with me, but especially during this time of the journey he is very near.

I sense him over my left shoulder now. His golden wings gently wrapping around me as I write with my golden muse, Aslan, purring in my lap. “Be you, my child. The world is waiting.” I feel it now and I heard it then as he turned back to me and said, “The gift is you.” And in his hands lay my gift to the world.

In that brief moment, I smelled the apples I had seen earlier. The fruit of life. Tempting and forbidden. Hmmm. Fear creeps in. I was always forbidden to shine. Forbidden to taste the fruit of my own knowledge. But here, the sweet fruit has been broken open before me. I need only inhale—stop, pause, breathe—and it will find me, surround me, and fill me with its fragrant aroma. May this fragrance move me into the world with strength and tenderness; compassion and love; Michael and Norah. There is no room for fear when all is love.

Truth or fantasy? Real or imagined? Sane or inept? What do you choose to believe? Where does your mind go when you turn to that deep place of stillness where everything connects, disappears, and becomes clear in the same moment?

On Turning Thirteen...

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves.” Rainer Maria Rilke

Inspired by a friend’s request to share my words of wisdom to her soon-to-be 13-year-old daughter, I decided to share a slightly expanded version of my letter here. As I began to write to my young friend, I realized that the message I would have wanted at her age was the same one I need to hear today. Learn to Trust Yourself.

Me @ 13

While I can’t remember exactly what it’s like to stand on the threshold of turning 13, I do recall it as a time of exhilaration and uncertainty with lots of questions. I remember being too afraid to ask the questions for fear of looking dumb. I’d like to say I was filled with curiosity about who I would become in the world and what great things I was capable of doing. I’d also like to tell you that I was brave and didn’t worry about what everybody else was doing... But, in reality, I was more concerned about how my hair looked and whether or not I’d blend in with the rest of the kids my age. [Hmmm... Thirteen or not, how might this still resonate today?]

What do I wish I had known at 13? As I said earlier, it’s the wisdom that grounds and motivates me today: Learning to Trust Myself! I grew up thinking everyone else had the answers to all my questions. But how could they when they were my questions and we each are prone to see things differently? Only I can decide what I like and what feels right for me [and the same goes for you]. It’s kind of like sharing clothes with other people. We come in all shapes, sizes, likes and dislikes, so it’s important to try on different things to see what makes us sparkle. That’s how we learn to trust ourselves. [If you are still learning to do this at your age (I know I am), then read on...]

Ask lots of questions, don’t be afraid to stand out, and explore boatloads of things to see what makes you a trustworthy You. Taste new foods. Listen to different music. Watch movies that none of your friends have seen. Learn a language. Travel to an unexplored destination. Revamp your wardrobe. Throw out what doesn’t fit. Keep what you love. Be curious and don’t be afraid if you don’t know the answers (even if the questions are Who am I or What do I like?) Keep asking and exploring.

My hunch is that you already have a pretty strong sense of who you are and what you like [although it might need a little refreshing], so Trust Yourself and you’ll never go wrong... And if things get confusing or you feel a little lost that’s okay, too. Blend in if you need to. Stand out when that feels good. Ask for help when you don’t know the way. Keep trying things on as you learn to trust and refine your perfect self! And if it helps... you can always pretend you’re standing on the threshold of adolescence.

Ponder this: What words of wisdom would you offer to a 13-year-old?

Is meditation making me “soft?”

For the past several weeks, I’ve been practicing my call to a more formal meditation practice and have been engaging with Susan Piver’s “Open Heart Project.” (It’s fabulous, by the way, and I highly recommend checking it out no matter what your level of experience with meditation practices.) In this week’s post, she speaks about the power of sorrow and a sense of permeability that allows us to receive input in fresh new ways. As I pondered this “softness” in myself, several instances immediately came to mind...

Recently while coaching a brilliant young woman, I heard her utter the words, “I’m not pretty enough” and my heart nearly broke wide open with sorrow. I thought perhaps I would burst into tears in our session because all I notice when I’m in her presence is the sheer beauty of who she is—both inside and out. Rather than fleeing my impulse to hide my tears as she spoke, I breathed more deeply and shared with her my experience. Our mutual acts of courage and tenderness left us both sniffling for several moments as we compassionately connected.

Yesterday while walking through Seattle’s Experience Music Project with my visiting 2nd cousin, I felt myself go all soft and mushy as his twelve-year-old, slightly sweaty palms entwined with my own fingers while he guided me through the horror exhibit and led me gleefully into the “scream room.”

And, you might as well knock me over with a feather and send in the box of tissues when I receive a compliment or praise on my book, As I Lay Pondering. I continue to be humbled and thrilled as others reveal how my words are touching their lives and helping shape their days. I can’t imagine my tender emotions ever abating on this topic.

I also saw “The Artist” today and found myself with a lump in my throat as tears dripped down the heroine’s cheeks and when “The Dog” repeatedly plead for his master’s well being.

I’ve always sniffled at Hallmark commercials and wiped my tear-filled eyes when the princess finds her prince, but something about this new “softness” feels rich and strong. Piver speaks about becoming “both more resilient and more gentle.” Yes. Strong and tender. Bold and humble. Fierce and mild. Open. Willing. Able to meet the world in new ways. Colors are more brilliant. Rain feels like a gentle cloak rather than a suffocating torrent. And if there were an 8th dwarf in Snow White’s crew (and I were it), you could just call me Softie.

So, is it meditation that’s making me soft? Hmmm... I’m off to ponder if that’s the case for these feelings or perhaps they are simply the residual effects of an increasingly open heart. Whatever it is, I think I like it.

Finally... when and where do you notice tenderness in your life? Would you prefer a little more softness? Or do you hold onto the notion that tenderness is weak? What if you could be both fierce and mild in the same moment... or greet the world with Technicolor vision? Would a few minutes of meditation each day be worth the time? How might you “soften” to this experience? I’d love to know where your pondering takes you!

btw - today's photo scene was so overwhelmingly beautiful to me on a recent walk, i implored my dear husband to stop and snap the shot... just one more example of having an open heart, methinks.

I hope you'll check out... As I Lay Pondering: daily invitations to live a transformed life by Kayce S. Hughlett Available here and at Amazon.com. Get your copy today!!

Scrambling for the Safety Zone

“We spend all our energy and waste our lives trying to re-create zones of safety which are always falling apart.” Pema Chodron

Scrambling for the safety zone. Is that what my mind is doing these days? Scrambling. Scrambled. I scramble. The challenge to quiet my spinning thoughts rises. So I pick up pen and notepad while Aslan, my ever-present muse, scrambles and scurries—actually he saunters—to take his place between my chest and journal. His nose tucks beneath my left arm as he snuggles into position. Is this his meditation time or mine? Who is teaching who?

How will I share my passion with the world? The morning’s question sends me scrambling for the safety zone of assurance. What’s next? How many sales? (Let that go.) Will people like it – receive it – buy it? (It doesn’t matter.) Will they relate – be moved – touched? (Maybe. Maybe not.) I’ve put it out there. Now what? My mind scrambles to fill the space. Write here. Schedule there. Do this. Don’t do that. Just BE... comes the overarching message. Stop scrambling! Breathe. Release. BE.

Where do you find yourself scrambling for a safety zone today? Is it working or would it feel better to breathe, release and simply Be?

As I Lay Pondering: daily invitations to live a transformed life by Kayce S. Hughlett. Available here and at Amazon.com.

BE Yourself

“Simply the thing that I am shall make me live.” William Shakespeare

This morning I’ve been pondering how much I miss interacting with the blogging community on a regular basis. Alongside this musing, come reflections on the level of inspiration its writers and readers have provided me over the years. I’ve visited the blogosphere on a less regular basis in past months—the catalyst being my blog reader disintegrating alongside other activities and life events. In deep and indelible ways, however, blogging stays with me through the words and thoughts I’ve breathed in over the years. It never really leaves, even when I feign absence. I have deeply missed the daily, evocative conversation with people around the world. It’s very different (and less-fulfilling) than quick Facebook status updates or super-fast Tweets (which I'm still resisting).

With the beginning of 2012, I find myself in a space that feels very different from years past. My pathway seems less clear or defined, and my soul is generously content with the lack of definition. At the launch of each new year, I choose a word as a gentle guide and focus for the coming months. The word that chose me this year is BE.

While BE is a word that’s shown up in numerous previous ways, it was nonetheless the one that kept bubbling to the top of my awareness as year’s end approached. It’s a provocative word and one that’s easily accessorized with other descriptors: Be yourself; Be present; Be still... It is proving to be an interesting challenge and something to be noted on a moment-by-moment basis. Lately I have been somewhat obsessed with the fruition of a long-time dream... the publication of my new book, As I Lay Pondering. I am wordless at how this experience is impacting me, and realize the extreme need to simply BE in it.

There are so many things to be done, learned and experienced in this unveiling. It is not only revealing my words and thoughts to the world, but also offering a whole new way for me to BE.. and even that statement leaves me wordless.

So what can I say? What do I know? Well... What I know this moment—right now—is that I am eternally grateful for the community that has followed and supported this blog (and me) for the past several years. Without you, As I Lay Pondering would not exist. Without you, it would be more difficult for me to BE myself. Thank you for coming to this space where I can simply be me. My hope always is that you leave here feeling a little more you. ☺

Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 20

Table of Truth

If I simply told my truth without caring if it's been told before or wondering whether it were special enough or too dark to reveal, I would write it all. The words would flow uncensored as I cherished and exposed the beauty, the broken, and the unseemly. I would offer both heartbreak and joy. I would not hold back nor would I overtly embellish. The prose would be raw, revealing and revelational. My truth would weave this brilliantly unique tapestry that is only me.

I would not compare or judge and wonder if every mother were critical or if other offspring had experienced tragedy. I would reveal my own ugliness without apology and my beauty and pain without permission. I would share the whole journey. I would speak of becoming an enraged woman who screeched into the face of a child. I would become the little child, muted with the crook of a finger and silenced by a commanding nod. I would write of mythical experiences and struggles with spirituality. I would acknowledge my deep faith and abolish the voice of tyranny. All tales would have their place. Each thread of color and strand of reality would be welcomed at the table of my truth.


Diamonds in the Soul - helping high-functioning, under-living people recover and nourish personal delight & joy in life.

Be Curious

“As I started looking, I found more and more.” -- Valerie Steele

On a breezy evening that threatened rain, but offered amazing cloud formations and lighting, I attended my daughter’s graduation from high school. A monumental event for all, and one that arrived more quickly than a parent could possibly imagine. We braced ourselves for a potentially boring evening as nearly 400 graduates streamed into the stadium, paired off boy-girl boy-girl. The evening, however, flowed seamlessly as the class president opened with a simple statement, “Good job. We did it.” - followed by talented choral groups ranging from high brow classical to street rap.

The most lackluster speech of the evening was the one meant to inspire. The adult speaker literally said, “I’m going to inspire you” and then began to read a list of former graduates (mainly from the ‘50’s and earlier) who had “made it big.” I recognized one name of an actress I adored during the ‘80’s and my husband identified a real estate mogul who he’d had less than pleasant business dealings with. The delivery was dry and as my own eyes glazed over, I couldn’t imagine my daughter or many other students being inspired by this recitation.

Looking out over the stadium, I was struck by the style and creativity of the students on the field. I witnessed mortarboards decorated with glitter and sequins glistening in the evening light. Students with oversized sunglasses; a boy with Mickey Mouse ears cleverly attached to his graduation cap. An array of finery peeking beneath red and black gowns: rubber sandals, glittering high heels, blown out blue jeans and pressed tuxedos. I watched the crowd: proud parents, raucous friends, and people holding elaborate signs, flowers from street vendors, cameras, bull horns and video recorders. In my musing, I became curious about who these people were, where they had been and where the future might carry them.

With curiosity the night came alive. Why did the seagulls soar over the crowd in the intricate patterns of swoop and dive? Who created the formation of night clouds and evening light that added a glow of perfection to the evening? Flashes of history went through my mind (good, bad and indifferent) as names were called to receive diplomas. Children I’d known since they were four years old strolled across the stage as the next generation of leaders. Later, I would pray for their safety and protection as they departed for Senior Spree, private parties and celebrations with family and friends. I wondered where time had gone, opportunities missed and adventures to come.

In my mind, the “inspirational speaker” had missed the mark. While a list of former accomplishments might or might not encourage others to move forward, curiosity could be a lasting companion. Curiosity inspires. It is my friend daily as I wonder about the world and myself. It motivates me to move forward and calls into question (without judgment) why I might stay inert. It encourages me to ask questions and seek new horizons. If I could leave a legacy for the generations to come, it would be this: Be Curious. Be grateful. Be you.

Ponder this: How are you inspired? What would be your legacy for those to follow?

photo by mark karras (used with permission... since he didn't get a model release and janey is featured :)

90 Seconds to Release

“Despite our fear of certain feelings, it is feeling each of them all the way through that lands us in the vibrant ache that underrides our being alive. To reach this vibrant place is often healing.” -- Mark Nepo

Life has been crazy full lately with all sorts of brilliant and shiny adventures. It’s all good, as they say. My body, however, seemed to indicate otherwise. Even amidst healthy eating, plenty of sleep and regular exercise, last week my body declared a moratorium on health. I came down with an icky cold “out of nowhere.” So, I slowed down (sort of), paid attention (with soft focus) and listened (perhaps with one ear.) Actually, I kept going – only doing the “essential” things, of course – until my body said, “Excuse me. I’d like your FULL awareness NOW.”


So, Wednesday, I woke up and I cried. Buckets. I finally let go and quit trying to analyze things and figure them out. I pushed my favorite “should” to the background – (“You should know better.”) – and just let myself be. I slowed down and got quiet. I lit a candle, played the Cistercian monks on iTunes, raged in my journal for awhile, sobbed into my pillow, wailed a little more, then went to my scheduled spiritual direction appointment where I sat with a wise listener who let me cry some more. (I hope you’re not distracted by what might have brought me to this state, because that’s not really the point… but I do appreciate your concern.)

If you’re asking what is the point, well, I just needed to let my emotions be. While I have a general idea where some of the angst arises (e.g. my mother died on Mother’s Day seven years ago and I tend to mentally forget this), the point was my body was giving me all sorts of signals that I needed a little grieving time. Again? Yes. Still? Absolutely.

We are such amazing creations and my new favorite mantra is “The body doesn’t lie.” Who would have thought that buckets of tears, some lament music, a gentle hot yoga session and ultimately oral surgery would provide the prescription to returning to my normal-feeling self? Counterintuitive, huh? Nonetheless, my blockage – both nasal and otherwise – seem to be on the pathway to clearness after following just that plan.

Brain scientist, stroke survivor and author, Jill Bolte Taylor offers that it takes only 90 seconds for the chemical release and physiological response of an emotion to be triggered, surge through our body and be completely flushed out of our bloodstream. We have a choice as to whether we mentally hold onto the pain and allow it to further poison our system, or allow ourselves the cleansing benefit of fully experiencing the surge when it arises. Wednesday I allowed my grief to expand and flow through me. It’s definitely harder than it sounds, but one of the reasons I’m recording this memory is perhaps next time, I’ll mentally get to this knowledge sooner and my body won’t have to pull out all the stops to slow me down when an uncomfortable emotion arises again. I’ve come to learn there’s nothing linear about life. We don’t get to grieve or forgive or cry, be angry or laugh just once and then be done. Life is a cyclical process that turns back on itself again and again as onward we go!

Is there an intense feeling you’ve been avoiding? Will you allow yourself 90 seconds of pure emotion today? Go ahead, throw rocks into the ocean. Crank up the blues music. Dance with abandon until your toes tingle with joy. Think about it.

Caught between Tangible & Intangible

Today’s Lenten questions:
“What are the things you feel pulled between in your own life?”
“How are you being called to a greater experience of wholeness and integration?”

Isn’t that our greatest movement – the steps that propel us toward wholeness and integration? Living a life of integrity and not lies. The pull of life on the grand scale between love and fear. How will I step into the places of love? Where will fear seek to overcome my integrity?

In my recent post, a commenter asked what areas of growth I thought the robin’s song was signaling – spiritual, professional or relational? My response was that it feels like they’re all nestled together. My spirituality encircles everything I do and my professional life is all about relationship. I feel pulled or torn between being a go-with-the-flow, follow-my-heart, don’t-worry-about-time–or-money kind of woman and the get-‘er-done, make-a-list, be-productive, earn-a-living while tangibly-using-my-gifts messages that run through my mind. I am caught between the tangible and intangible.

Tangible output receives praise, financial reward, acknowledgement and results in physical product. This approach glorifies product over process. Process (or the intangible) comes from the times I sit curled on my sofa with music playing and candle lit simply allowing myself to be. Ineffable moments not limited by time or space. It is 'output' that can’t be quantified (nor should it be). Yet even this sacred time can be subjected to productivity results if I judge the quality by how many pages I pen or the number of minutes my meditation lasts. The challenge for me is to simply BE(E).

While in Egypt last fall, I received the word Be(e) during a very special ritual. It is proving to be quite a powerful presence for me. Bees are longtime symbols for accomplishing the impossible. The bee is a perfect totem for this place of being caught between tangible and intangible, product over process, because in reality both are necessary to achieve the balance my heart desires.

Be. It all comes back to this for me. Greater wholeness and integration calls me to this place where tangible and intangible meet and dissolve into one. Where product and process find their perfect balance. Where prayer becomes a way of being and being becomes a way of prayer.

Will you ponder today’s questions alongside me?

Just Be(e)

"Of all that God has shown me
I can speak just the smallest word,
Not more than a honey bee
Takes on his foot
From an overspilling jar."

—Mechtild of Magdeburg


"bee hind" ©h3images

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

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

A New SIlence...

"When you travel,

A new silence goes with you,

And if you listen, you will hear

What your heart would

Love to say." John O'Donohue

9.24.10

Today was a day spent learning of the reverence and preparation for death and ending with the celebration of new life through marriage. Two weddings graced our presence as we moved from the Pyramids Park Hotel to Novotel. In between were times of laughter, illness, crowded spaces, ancient wisdom and miles of forged friendships.

We started the day at the Pyramids of Giza. Pinching ourselves, we couldn't believe we were standing on the ground of the Pharaohs. The massive structures rising out of the rocky sand. How DID they do that? Three large pyramids flanked by three smaller for the wives and three more for the mothers.

Camels and Tourism Police surrounded the perimeter while peddlers hawked their wares for "very good price." Hany, our guide, had warned us to be on guard here. That "very good price" quickly went up and thievery was not uncommon in this clime. As we walked from the bus toward our first destination, an earnest and kind Egyptian handed me a small blue scarab then asked how many children I had and handed me another for my 2nd child. As I continued my walk, he handed me more gifts for my son and daughter as I graciously thanked him while keeping my stride. Finally he was through handing me presents and I kept walking. Then the quiet request came, "Just a small amount of money, please?" "No, thank you," I replied and handed back the treasures. Our dance of commerce had ended with no monetary exchange and only the memory to remain in my heart.

After viewing the Great Pyramid, we went to the vista point and saw the six pyramids all in a row with the mother's tucked safely behind their sons. Hany filled us with details and facts and then Regina invited us to pause with the silence. Pilgrims spread out, some sat, some stood, all gazed. Sitting side by side on the retaining wall, Regina and I let the breeze lift our spirits as we felt the feathers of Ireland and eternity swirl around us.

The magic continued as it was time to visit the inner chamber of the Second Pyramid. Well-prepped by our guides, we knew it would be a cramped and potentially strenuous path. Nine brave souls entered the opening toward the tomb. Crouched in a slumped walk to fit under the 4-foot ceiling , my head gently bounced off the ancient stone until I found a more pleasing rhythm to make my way up the ramp. Following my roommate, Deb, we kept a nice pace while still pausing to touch the solid walls where so many hundreds of thousands had gone before. A few yards crouched and a few standing up until we entered the sacred chamber.

Barren except for an empty sarcophagus and a few modern lights, it felt like we had entered the center of the earth. No claustrophobia for me, only a beckoning from the far wall to place my hand-print in the space where others hands had lain. Next followed my other hand and then my forehead until I was locked in a slow dance with this ancient mystery. The quiet was profound and immense and it held for several moments - long enough, in fact, that I finally opened my eyes to see if everyone else had evaporated. Yet there stood my fellow compatriots - Deb, Mary, Don & Marie-Josee. We had been granted a miracle moment. With thousands of tourists outside, this handful of pilgrims were offered the gift of silence and connection inside this ancient wonder of the world.

I slowly moved around the perimeter, stopping by the open burial crypt and proceeding clockwise until I stood before the very place of my slow waltz. There above the invisible impression where my forehead touched the cool stones was the word I heard the day before inside the Alabaster Mosque - BE. Just a few unremarkable letters were inside this sparse space, and I chose to stand below - unbeknownst to me - the very letters that chose me the day before. Blessed Be. God is in this place. I tapped Arleen (who had drifted in) upon the arm and showed her my confirmation. Goosebumps ran down both our spines. The magic of this place continued...

Finally, the still small voice inside me said, "Enough" and I knew it was time to go. Just as I exited the chamber and started down the narrow ramp, hoards of Japanese tourists pushed past me and I knew the silence of the chamber was no more. Blessed be. O'Donohue's words were perfect for this day, "A new silence goes with you..." And the serendipity continued as I read the bookmark given by Regina that day:

"These sites that call forth reverence and awe and humility and wonder, we make them sacred, and the ancient ties are never lost, the oldest voices calling from within the stones." James Houston

What are the sites that call forth reverence, awe, humility and wonder for you today? It certainly doesn't have to be inside a great pyramid. Remember, a new silence goes with you each day...

photos ©lucy - sites of Giza

A City of Surprises - Cairo

September 23, 2010 Pre-Pilgrimage Old Coptic Cairo and Islamic Cairo

"Lord, awaken me from the sleep of desire

That makes me oblivious to my

heart's longing.

Lift the illusion that hides the truth

That giving up self is really gaining." Sapira Journal

Waking up in Cairo. Where did the past two days go? Lost amidst planes and flying hours - learning to practice my presence with seat mates, kicking toddlers & foreign ambassadors. Meeting and greeting my fellow travelers, then venturing into this vast city of Cairo and praying jet lag will not cloud the magnificence of this experience. Using my breath to lead the way. I crave filling my lungs with fresh air. Two inhales. Two exhales. YHWH. Visiting the Coptic churches, Amma Regina reminds us God is as near as our breath.

Now I sit outside the Coptic Museum - enclosed spaces and jet lag taking their toll. I can walk or stand no longer. I am pulled toward sunshine and fresh air. Sitting on the sandstone ledge, I know my shirt will be covered with Cairo dust. Letting go has already begun and I sink back against the solid wall. This morning we've traveled through the Coptic churches in the enclosed area of Old Cairo. We've learned Coptic actually means Egyptian although many like to classify Coptic as Christian Egyptians (a population of 5% in this 95% Muslim city).

Our personal Egyptologist, Hany (pronounced Honey), leads the way with worlds of knowledge enthusiastically spilling from his mind and mouth. His heavy accent brings lovely new adaptations to old words like Deuteronomy and Pentateuch. We travel through the narrow alleys learning to say, "La la-la" (No No) to the hawkers of their "special ware." The day doesn't seem so hot, although a trickle of sweat slides its way down my back. Listening to the voices surrounding me, I can make no sense of this Arabic language that sounds guttural, but seems to come mostly from the throat. I'm saddened that the first word I've learned is "no" although perhaps I could slide "Salaam" in there and find rest with "go in peace."

I've been reminded today that I don't prefer history lectures and group tours, but rather enjoy the small and tiny sections of life - a backlit tree of life in a 4th century church - the trill of a bird I cannot see or name. I am grateful for Regina who invites us to slow down and reminds us to touch the portals and gates as we enter new territory. A dragon fly drifts by and I'm curious about the message she has to offer. I could lay down and sleep right here in this ancient courtyard pressed against hard stone. The breeze calls to me to drift and move back outward - onward.

Evening

Today was a day of attuning to the voices around - calls to Midday prayer, haunting and beautiful in the same moment - pleading vendors - laughing children - weary pilgrims - new-found friends.

When journeying in an unknown land, can a smile be enough? In the midst of the maze-like bazaar, a tattered vendor gives thanks for a beautiful smile. A pilgrim grieves over the poverty surrounding us. Do our "hosts" believe they are impoverished? Cairo exudes the mystery of a city both ancient and half-finished all at the same time. We are reminded of Marco Polo and his stories to the Great Kublai Khan as he says:

"Your footsteps follow not what is outside the eyes, but what is within... many are the cities like "Cairo", which elude the gaze of all, except the (wo)man who catches them by surprise." Sapira Journal

Did we catch the city by surprise today or did it catch us?

Following our trip to Old Cairo, we entered The Mosque of Muhammad Ali Pasha or Alabaster Mosque. We were met by the call of tinkling bells as the wind whispered through the magnificent chandelier. Shoes in hand, we entered this sacred place and waited to hear our own 100th name in our hearts. Words drifted through my mind - were the whispers my own or Another's? Tinkle Bell - Breath - Breathe - Breeze - Beauty - Be - Be still and know that I am God - BE.

The pull to stay here was strong. Spread across the tapestry rug, we, pilgrims, commingled with God, Allah, the 99 beautiful names as well as fellow travelers from around the world. A little girl caught our eye with her curly locks and sassy walk as she moved toward and away from her own family including her mother in full burka. Many of us pondered the question of when this little beauty would come to an age and be draped in black from head to toe. Would she look forward to this right of passage? Would she rebel? Those questions, however, were wrapped in the future and at that moment it was time for us to don our shoes and move from here.

Our next stop was the Cairo bazaar. Our first adventure included finding local bathroom facilities as we dug in our wallets for Egyptian pounds and searched our pockets for tissues and hand sanitizer. The brilliance of color and winding pathways felt like something straight out of a Middle Eastern movie. I could envision a chase scene where the heroine (or hero) knocked aside stacked baskets, swung from brightly colored scarves and swooped in and out of narrow passageways to escape the ensuing villain. Scarves, trinkets, and hidden treasures were tucked in every nook and cranny. Vendors promised they had the "best price" on all their wares and if you showed the slightest interest, the game of negotiation began. Intimidating to some, it reminded me of bargaining in Cozumel or Cancun - although here with a level of hospitality I was just beginning to see as wonderfully Egyptian. Alas, our time in this place felt too short to me. I would have loved to wander slowly (slowly) through the pathways and practice my negotiating skills for jewelry and scarves (a practice near-well perfected by our dear, Regina.)

Loading up the bus and heading back toward the Pyramids Park Hotel, we made a slight detour at an authentic Egyptian Cotton store. A few of us opted to stay on the bus while others emerged in a short while with treasures for loved ones - including themselves! Today, I caught a better glimpse of the Nile and then the pyramids rising through the haze like my own Mt. Rainier peaking out of the clouds - majestic, haunting, & ancient beyond belief.

The contrasts of this city are full of surprise. A woman passenger in royal purple burka rides sidesaddle on the back of a scooter. A donkey pulls the family cart amidst taxis, buses and automobiles via intersections with no traffic signs. Horses graze between buildings and a camel trots down the street with master atop the gaily decorated hump. Indeed a mixture of sights, sounds and surprise.

Back home, we parted ways to dine and rest. My evening included a light dinner, followed by a full Egyptian moon, gentle breeze, strawberry shisha, laughter, fun, fellowship and a photo by Andre Bottecelli's photographer. What a day!!!

"I will commune with my own heart upon my bed,

and be still... I will both lay me down in peace,
and sleep: for thou, DEEP SILENCE, only makest
me dwell in care." - Susan Muto

photos ©lucy

• steeples in coptic cairo
• "tree of life" - 4th century
• old cairo alleyway
• view from alabaster mosque and me :)
• glimpses at the bazaar
  

mantra: read, write, rest

“When you live in God, your day begins when you lose yourself long enough for God to find you, and when God finds you, to lose yourself again in praise.” Barbara Taylor Brown

When I was in graduate school, I had a mantra that often helped me through days of intensive study. “Read. Write. Rest. Repeat.” Recently, I’ve found those words re-entering my life. They’ve changed slightly, but they still seem to do the trick. They offer me a pattern that engages, fulfills and restores. Work can be substituted for write and often exercise makes its way into the rest category. Bottom line - my rhythm feels pretty simple and I love it.

It was little surprise, therefore, when I reached for my Kindle yesterday and noticed I was still on the chapter, "Sabbath", in An Altar in the World. My highlighter has worked overtime in this book, (yes, I still underline and make notes in my books – how else will those who read after me know what I found important?) but the passage that stood out today spoke of the lighting of two candles on Shabbat - how one is for rest and the other freedom. The intertwining of those two concepts - freedom and rest - reminds me not only of my mantra, but also the larger notion that without rest, freedom is very likely absent.

It is a fine balance we walk in this world that says productivity is god. Barbara Brown Taylor says this is worshiping the wrong god, and I wholeheartedly agree. So, it was with great pleasure yesterday that I curled up with my cat and my book and found a piece of Sabbath in the midst of a potentially full day. I slowed down just enough for God to find me and for that I am grateful and offer up my praise. It's amazing what happens when I get out of my own way!!

So, do you have a mantra? What does it offer you? Productivity? Sabbath? Both? Neither? Do tell!

www roses by lucy

Paying Attention

"...paying attention requires no equipment, no special clothes, no greens fees or personal trainers. You do not even have to be in particularly good shape. All you need is a body on this earth, willing to notice where it is, trusting that even something as small as a hazelnut can become an altar in this world." -- Barbara Brown Taylor

"When you have put into practice the thing you are talking about, then speak from knowledge of the thing itself." -- The Wisdom of the Desert

Sunrise Sister recently wrote a powerful post about how her reading choices had taken on a theme of which she was unaware during the selection process. A similar thing is happening to me, and for now the theme seems to be paying attention.

A couple of weeks ago I began reading The Wisdom of the Desert by Thomas Merton, in preparation for my upcoming trip to the Sinai Desert. A while back a dear friend suggested I might enjoy Taylor's, An Altar in the World. Recently it became the book that most wanted to hop onto my Kindle pages. Having just finished a chapter in Altar titled, "Reverence," I found it a perfect prompt to review the glorious day I am currently experiencing.

I feel the evening breeze blow across my face as the late afternoon sun begins to set. My golden cat sits nearby, tasting his paws and grooming his coat of gold in beams of precious light. An ice cream truck plays "Merrily, merrily, life is but a dream" and mercifully fades into the distance. Crows caw and sparrows chirp outside my window.

Earlier as I drove home from yoga with the convertible top down, the sun shone on my warm, moist skin as the wind blew my hair wildly across my face. "Unwritten" poured from the stereo and as I looked overhead, a pure white seagull pierced the light denim sky. Heaven on earth. Reverence for these small, great things. Majestic. Awesome.

Fuschia-colored peonies. Miniscule ants of ebony. Golden fur and fluff. Gentle breeze. Strong-brewed coffee crinkling over ice. The feel of glorious, perfect sunshine after days of gray to numerous to count. Strength of my body bending backwards and sinking my spine into the floor. Sweat on my brow. Air moving down my throat and into my lungs, then pressing out again. Dirt beneath my fingernails. Smell of freshly mowed grass. Blisters on my feet. Lavender bubbles in my tub. Crushed ice and freshly squeezed lemon. My daughter's endless legs teetering on silver heels as she heads to prom. Lilting country music drifts from the stereo. An evening fading. A night beginning. A body well loved. A heart received. A spirit full.

These are a few of the things I've noticed today - paid attention to - revered. Oh, that I could speak from their knowledge. Perhaps tomorrow.

"yoga" SoulCollage card by lucy

Emancipation

"If it isn't an experience of newfound freedom, I don't think it is an authentic God experience." -- Richard Rohr

God doesn't make us smaller. When we are "emancipated" as Rohr mentions in his offering today, we are enlarged in our capacity to love - to be - to worship - to live. If I have to live a life of making myself smaller, then I'm not experiencing God fully. Of course, there is sacrifice and it's not about getting what I "want" all of the time. In the words of Mick Jagger - you can't always get want you want, but if you try sometime, you just might find you get what you need. But I digress...

I believe life isn't about making ourselves smaller or taking up too much space, but rather using the space we have wisely. Recently my way of using space (being) and/or doing life has shifted. Activities have been more physical than spiritual - more internal than external - more solitary than communal. I've been asking myself the question: Am I wasting time or am I expanding?

I was reminded this morning to never underestimate the power of morning pages. (Side note - I attempted journaling via 750words.com and while I love the premise, I continue to find there is more magic for me in using my fountain pen and a composition notebook.) Here is my morning response to my own question of wasting time or expanding:

I need to contract - pull back - some of the time or I'll pop like an overstretched rubber band. I need time to percolate - to practice and integrate what I'm learning, just like in yoga. You don't go from zero to perfect pose immediately. Keep returning to the restorative poses. Stretch and return. Push the edges and rest. Perhaps my mind is taking a break to integrate - I'm using my body to recuperate. Mind and body working together to find the balance and wholeness I desire. Ah, newfound freedom in this moment. That's emancipation.

Where are you being stretched? Does lying in "corpse pose" feel restorative or lifeless for you? Thoughts on balance? Emancipation?

"balance" SoulCollage card

To Be or Not to Be

Focus. It seems so funny to me that the word focus would arise with me this morning. As I look back at my morning journal pages, they show little focus (or volume recently). They appear abrupt and interrupted – unfocused. Can they be enough? Can I be enough? Can simply “being” be enough?

The focus of Being. I see it as the tension between allowing things to bubble up – percolate – be what they will be in the moment, AND putting a course into action - following what wants to arise with more steps, through more effort.

For example, I want to write a book (yikes did I just say that?). Will it simply bubble up? Will someone just say, “Here, let me put those unfocused journals into a book for you”? Very unlikely. It takes effort – focus. Will my body get healthy if I just sit around “being” all the time? No, it takes at least a little push to get out and walk, take a class, stretch on my yoga mat.

So, here's where my morning musings landed:

Simply being doesn’t always cut it. Sometimes you have to focus.

Thoughts? Do you experience the tension between being and focusing? To be or not to be - that is the question - today.