visual gratitude

"I arise at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving."
--Kahlil Gibran

be

Is it fading memory or past inobservance? I don’t remember ever awakening to this amazing, picture perfect view right outside my window. Did I not turn to the west upon awakening in the past? Or is there a new window—a wall moved just a foot or two? I think not, because the room is perfectly symmetrical as it is. How can I miss something so simple and so amazingly beautiful? Something that is right before my very eyes?

I think we must do it all the time. The missing, I mean. Some say we cannot go looking for the sacred. Is that true? If we do not open our hearts, eyes or minds, how will we know it is there? And what of those times when we desperately want to see God and yet we feel or see nothing? A dark night of the soul, if you will.

There it is—the paradox of being. We must see to believe, but in the looking we miss what is simply there. Hmmmm. Is that what I meant to say? In looking for my words do they fail to come? Is something lost in the translation from heart to head? Yet I must put pen to paper for something to tangibly emerge. Or must I?

“Let it be,” says the still small voice. “Be” that simple tiny small word that is so huge. Let it be. Be still and know. Be still. Be.

How will I choose to “be” today? How will you?

"gone to the beach. not sure when i'll be back." she grins and boards the plane...

sacred

Do you ever have conversations with yourself? I don’t mean little mutterings, but full blown, pros and cons, asking questions and seeking answers kind of conversations? Well, if not, I highly recommend it. As Flannery O’Connor said, “I write to discover what I know.” Although more often my writing feels like it is discovering more and more of what I don’t know, because the questions just keep multiplying. The cool thing is that I am really o.k. with that. More so even than having all the answers which seems like a totally impossible task, don’t you think?

While I would like the share with you this morning’s conversation, it seems to be one that is ongoing and so impossible (and too large) to capture in one readable blog post. Nevertheless, I will share a snippet of it.

I woke up this morning pondering “what is sacred”? (i.e. How would one define sacred?) The first definition I found was “connected with God.” I like that. It resonates with me. It’s simple without too many words or fuss. (I do not choose to define God in this post. You will have to do that for yourself ☺. ) So, why was I pondering “sacred”? Well, yesterday felt like a very sacred day to me.

It was about finding the sacred in Seattle on a summer Friday night. Far away from the four walls of any institution. Feeling the life force around me while driving along the beach of Alki Point, soaking up the West Seattle culture. The magnificence of the city spread before us. The tempting call of the lapping waves. Dipping our toes into the cold Sound while conversing with a waif of a girl and her scraggly old dog puppy. Fresh sea air mixed with the warm heat of the day. Sacred. Friendship. Bread. Wine. Communion. Being seen in the eyes of another. Sacred conversation—not how to “save” the world, but how to "be" in the world so that our gifts are shared. God manifested. The evening was awe inspired and inspiring. Sacred, indeed.

More thoughts and conversation continued from there, but I choose to stop now and sit in the beauty of that little snippet. Perhaps the conversation will continue at another time. For now, however, I hope you will consider what “sacred” means to you. How about “fellowship”? Communion? Church? Have a little conversation here or perhaps with yourself even ☺.

Wishing you a blessed and sacred Saturday!

photos by lucy 6.20.08. "driving" & view from Salty's West Seattle.

holding back

I find myself holding back and I can only imagine that it is tied to years of feeling wrong, out of place and judged. I do not want to go back there AND I do not want those chains to continue to have their hold on me. So, what’s a girl to do?

I find myself on a journey of amazing possibilities with forks in the road and so many choices to be made along the way. Do they all lead to the same place? Can choices be made along the path that look different for each of us and still lead to one source? I hear the voices of my past (and occasional present) saying, “Do not stray from the narrow path. If you do, you will be wrong. You will live in eternal hell.” Ironically, it feels more like hell to follow the narrow voices that want to rein me in—to keep me from living my true nature. But wait; would that be a “sinful” nature? The one that the devil tempts me to? Yikes. It all feels so dramatic and forced and fear-based. But the voices of judgment hang tough and strong, telling me to keep myself in check.

Could those strong and tough voices of judgment be from God? Is my true nature really evil and so I need hard and fast guardrails? I think not. My heart, my soul, my very being tells me to listen to the beauty…To trust that God will meet me where I am as long as it is God I am seeking.

Hmmm...I don’t believe it is God I have the problem with ☺. The challenge is to live in the world and follow my path regardless of how others tell me I “should” live. You see I believe that the Way of Jesus is love. Period. It is God I am seeking. It is God who is seeking me. Together, we will make our own path. Period.

If you are reading this, I chose to push “publish’ and let up on the holding back…a little ☺. Thoughts? Comments? Where do you choose to listen? Heart? Head? Man? God? How do you KNOW what YOU believe? How do you discern whether it is your belief or just a hangover of others’ voices? Where do you hold back?

if only for a moment...

"Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." Matthew 19:14

can you remember back to those carefree days when boys and girls were just kids and not genders? can you see in your mind’s eye the freedom of summer and endless play without regard to time, space or commitments? when hours could be lost staring at an ant carrying a piece of food? or catching bees in a jar only to release them a moment later could consume an entire afternoon? can you remember what it was like to walk hand in hand with someone just because it felt natural to be by their side? can you remember when it all started to get complicated and boys became yucky or girls developed cooties? when appearance became more important than freedom? when propriety took the place of simplicity?

some of those questions are easier for me to answer than others, but all remind me in some simple way of my delightful Sunday when for a few brief moments all of the questions disappeared and I got to simply be me…a child at play…if only for a moment.

sitting next to the international fountain at seattle center with my seemingly unlikely companions, steve and derek (two twenty-something young men from lubbock, texas), we watched the children at play in the brilliant sunshine of the day. one little guy especially caught our attention as he darted in and out of the fountain spray clad only in his little white briefs which I swear he had on sideways ☺. oblivious to every care in the world except delight, this little guy was the picture of joy and his energy was evidently contagious. steve spontaneously said, “come run through the fountain with me” and the next thing I knew, we were dodging the showers and laughing with the other children. pure delight indeed!

it is funny how you just know that some moments will mark your life in a unique way and I know this was one of them. it was a brief slice of time slathered with delight and freedom when two grown up children allowed themselves to come out to play and time stood still…if only for a moment.

when was the last time you allowed your inner child to come out and play? if it has been awhile, why do you think that is? what would they would want to do if allowed? think about it ☺. I would love to know.

unfortunately i did not have my own camera with me, but this fountain photo found here beautifully exhibits the mood of the day!

ebb and flow

It is early morning. I have been up for over two hours and it is just past 7:00 a.m. Why am I up? Dreams, thoughts, feelings flow through my being. The past couple of days have been punctuated by a sense of contentment, but today I feel my old nature pressing in and saying, “Do something. You can’t just sit around being content!” And so the tides of life continue to ebb and flow.

Awhile back I wrote about dabbling versus mastery as I encountered the lovely blue jays in my path. This morning as I read a journal from four years ago, I noticed that the answers for which I was searching were right in front of me. Just this week, I communicated with two friends about their own messages being right there for them, too. One showed up in music they had written over the years. The other in art purchased without any "known" rhyme or reason. And so it is that I believe the answers are often right before our very eyes. Sometimes we are open to seeing them and other times we are not. And sometimes it is just not the right time to see.

Still I ponder where is the balance between hyper-focusing and/or just waiting for things to happen. What is my responsibility to move things along and/or when do I just need to get out of the way? Am I willing to risk appearing foolish or (gasp) failure by putting myself out there? Or will I be like my encouraging creative friend who says we must celebrate the rejection letters, because that means we made one more step toward our art?

So, the question for me today is what am I willing to risk? Time? Energy? Ego? Failure? If my dream is to share my gifts* with the world, how can I move toward the fulfillment of that dream if I sequester myself behind a wall of fear?

How about you? What are you willing to risk today? What holds you back from exploring or expanding your dreams? Are there small steps that could get you going? Is your tide ebbing or flowing right now?

*Defining my “gifts” is another roadblock, for sure…and definitely the topic of another post ☺.

photo from yelapa, mexico by h3images

my village

Home again. It has been a nice relaxing day of resting, nesting, catching up on e-mail and home stuff. The wind has been blowing like crazy and the rains have been consistent throughout the day. Right now the sun has decided to pop out and give us a little blue sky for the evening.

My life has entered an odd pattern these days. I feel kind of like a firefighter who goes to live at the station for a week and then returns home. When I am facilitating for Soltura, I know where I am supposed to be and my focus is centered on helping the participants throughout their workshop. It is intense, exhilarating and exhausting. So the challenge when I return to my home is to find the balance of what needs to be done and to what I choose to be present.

When I am facilitating, I am totally present to the participants. It is a very cool experience, because they each come looking for some kind of change in their life. I find that my gifts shine in this environment. Last week was very cool because there were four young ladies who are close in age to my son. So in many ways they were an interesting combination of my son and daughter. One of them shared her philosophy of “being raised by a village” and thanked each of us for being part of her village.

It was so wonderful to see how these women also helped “raise me” with their courage, insight, tenacity and love. It never ceases to amaze me how similar human beings are and yet how very different. The great thing is allowing ourselves to be open and see what we can learn from each other. (I think it’s great to consider relationships with an open door policy ☺.)

This evening I am tired, but content. My home is clean. My heart is in good spirits. My family is safe. And my “village” continues to expand. Blessings abound and I am eternally grateful for life as I know it.

on the road again

greetings! i will be away from blogging for the next few days doing my soltura thing. i hope you will check out that website if you are so-inclined. also, in the meantime if you would like to hear some tunes inspired by my recent road trip, here is a brief playlist. i'd love to know what your favorite road tunes are, so drop me a line.

a couple of things...

first, i would like to apologize for my lack of participation with the many wonderful sites i try to visit on a regular basis and leave comments. time seems to be both flying by at an unusually rapid rate lately, while also seemingly standing still at other times. both phenomena, nevertheless, have contributed to keeping me somewhat quiet on the blogging front--both my own and others (which is the point of this ramble.) i so appreciate all of you who stop by to read (even though i only know who a very few of you are) and i am slowly catching up on my reading of the wonderful things many of you have to offer.

second, i must say that i have already had a fabulous weekend and it's only friday evening. i left early yesterday morning to make the trek across the state of washington from seattle to walla walla (approximately 275 miles.) i was delivering some of my favorite photographer's work to the carnegie art center where three pieces have been accepted into their juried art show. hurray for h3!!! i had a delightful drive during which time i listened to three great podcasts from "Speaking of Faith" with Krista Tippett and lots and lots of music of MY choice (not something i always do when others of less discriminating taste are in the car with me.)

the bonus of the trip was getting to spend time with the fabulous sunrise sister, the self-proclaimed curmudgeon, country parson and the always entertaining riley. who could ask for more?

although i did not ask for more that is just what i got on my return trip home. about 100 miles out from seattle, i opted to put the top down on my little convertible, crank up the tunes and cruise the rest of the way in. the music was fabulous and ranged from the profound to the peppy and even a little profane. glorious all around! i did choose to turn off the tunes as i came across snoqualmie pass where i listened to the silence of the great mountain sprinkled with periodic waterfalls and the rushing of the wind while perfectly blue skies danced above my head. absolutely fabulous!! my only regret (and it is a small one indeed) is that there was no place to pull over with my camera to capture the beauty of the drive. hopefully, these few words will pull the images back into my mind and the rest of you will just have to use your own imagination.

o.k. that's it for now. i hope you have a fabulous weekend too! thanks for stopping by.

photo "fishing in yelapa" by h3 images (one of the selections for the art show)

ordinary time?

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

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

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

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

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

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

wordless sounds and sighs

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

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

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

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

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

Peace, friends!

photo by lucy 5.24.08. see related post here.

waiting

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

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

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

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

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

sometimes waiting needs to be just that...waiting

more simplicity

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

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

the thorns of blooming

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

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

poppy & hawthorne tree photo by lucy

keep it simple

Have you ever noticed how sometimes it is the “simple” things that can express what we ourselves may not be able to put into words? The basics…like scissors, paper and glue; the laugh of a child; the warmth of the sun; the breeze through your hair; the words of a friend. Simple.

I can feel the essence of what is going on for me right now. I even thought the words might form a little better today and I guess maybe they have. So, here goes: Keep it Simple. That is what I hear and that is what I share. Simple, right? ☺

What are the "simple" things that help you see or express yourself when words will not form?

"wish for what you believe" by lucy 5.15.08

recycling

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

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

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

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

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

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

photo by lucy. la cruz mexico

a little levity

it is raining today in seattle. my family is out of the house. my coffee date got canceled and it's too wet to go for the lunchtime walk i had planned with a friend. so what to do? blog things, of course! here are my results...play along if you like!

Your Personality at 35,000 Says...

Deep down, you prefer spending time alone to spending time with others. You enjoy thinking more than talking. You are not too sure what your place in the world is yet. You often feel invisible in a crowd. Your gift is relating to other people. You don't hide from your own emotions, and you are good at drawing other people out. You are inspired by almost anything. You don't have many mental blocks. You are happy as long as you are given some personal space. It's important for you to have your own private life.

The Personality Test at 35,000 Feet

God is Here

I walked into the deep dark night, the crescent moon lighting my way. Tilting my head back to fill my eyes with the night sky, the Big Dipper shone straight above me, full and clear. Laughter filled my soul. God is here.

In the morning light, I headed for the river rock trail and a still small voice said, ‘Turn.’ I turned away from the path, toward the sea, and there before me was a magnificent eagle soaring in the clear blue sky. God is here.

The persistent morning wind blew through the sunlit trees. Waving. Calling. Singing. I am here. Yahweh. Spirit. God.


She built an altar out of discarded metal—a ladder representing her fears. She built an altar to a God she said she did not know—a God whose name she could not speak. He wooed. He called. He said, “I am here.”

She waited. She listened. She struggled. She railed against the hope. She slept. Peace came and washed over her through a flood of tears. She wept. She knew. She spoke the name. “God is here!!”

the collective "they"

I looked at the young woman and I saw a hundred others; perhaps even a bit of myself. If we see it in someone else, we have it in ourselves. Fact or Fiction? What did I see in her? I saw the holding on. The struggle to maintain an appearance that she thought was pleasing. I saw her battling to stay in composure and keep others at a distance. And I saw her pleading for someone to come a little closer.

Is that not a struggle we all have? Come closer, but not too close. Searching for our true identity—one that we can call our own rather than one created to “please” everyone around us.

This week I have been helping facilitate a personal growth workshop for Soltura. With a little break in the action, I thought I would share the above ponderings along with the following words from Sue Monk Kidd. As always, I would love to know your thoughts.

“Change begins with the recognition that we’re not so much an “I” as a “they.” We may like to think that we’re individuals living out our own unique truth, but more often we’re scripts written collectively by society, family, church, job, friends, and traditions.

We need our outer roles and identities, of course, but we also need to live them authentically, in ways that are true to our unique and inner self. When we live exclusively out of the expectations thrust on us from without, rather than living from the truth emerging within, we become caught in the collective “they.”

So if all those roles were suddenly stripped away, what would be left? Who would you be then?”

--Sue Monk Kidd. When the Heart Waits

photo © h3images

holding tight

“We heap on the darkness, constructing a variety of false selves. We become adept at playing games, wearing masks as if life were a masquerade party.” --Sue Monk Kidd

The young woman sat before me dressed in her work clothes of tailored black pants and crisp white shirt. Her face clean of makeup. Her eyes tired from a cold—or was it more? Her long silky hair pulled away from her face in a ponytail that was a little messy, but still very ‘together.’ She held onto herself, grasping her stomach tightly, throughout our time together. Her face turning deeper shades of red as she tried to convince me that she ‘operates best under stress.’ It was almost as if I could hear her saying, “if I just hold on tight enough, all of the emotions I feel inside will not spill out and fill this room. If I can just convince you maybe I can convince myself that everything is alright and I don’t need help.” But she did not convince me.

I could see the terror on her young face. Terror and determination as she talked of breaking away from her “controlling parents.” Parents who were concerned that she wanted to work multiple jobs while going to school and playing sports and maintaining an active social life. From what was she running? If she were to slow down, I got the sense that the feelings would drown her. Did she have that same sense? Nowhere to turn. No one to trust. A ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

She hinted of betrayal. Friends she could not trust. A young love gone bad. The fighting in her house followed by the absence of family members. “They just leave,” she said with a shrug. The themes were all over the place, but still she tried to convince me that she did not need help. She could not fit in one more thing. She could only trust herself. But, here she sat betraying herself. Pushing her body. Exhausted and worn out. Driven. Holding tight. She saw herself as moving toward something. I saw it as running away. Her attempts at security were slowly eating away at her soul.

mystery on the mountain

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

lucy's photos from mount rainier 5.01.08

beginnings and endings

Anyone who has been reading here recently will know that dreams have been very present in my mind these last several days. Dreams to me represent a kind of beginning. A change of the wind. A longing of the heart. And so it seems a bit ironic to me that in this time of new beginnings and wondering what comes next, I have found myself in the midst of endings. As I ponder more, however, I realize it is not so ironic after all, because in order for something new to begin something else may need to end.

I have spent the last two weeks ending with students who I have watched transform over the past eight months. They came in as caterpillars, wrapped themselves tightly into cocoons and now I have the honor and joy of watching them spread their wings and fly away. It has been harder for me this year than last, because I now know from experience that many of them I may never see again. And so even with the best intentions of “I’ll see you around” or “We’ll get together for coffee,” I know that we are ending.

So, how do I sit with that? Knowing we have done good work together and we cannot help but be changed because of our time together AND we may never find ourselves face to face ever again. Longing. Sadness. Congratulations. Well-done & wanting more. Can it be enough?

In addition to students, there were also good-byes with colleagues who I have come to love deeply. The beautiful part is that we marked these endings with remembering, laughter, tears and holy communion. This feels so different from other relationships that have simply drifted away.

And so I sit this morning filled with possibility for future dreams as the season changes AND also a longing for the things and relationships that have come to an end. Dreams. Beginnings. Good-byes. Endings. Will I dream well today? Will I allow space for longing? Will you? What do you think of beginnings and endings? I invite you to come keep me company today, I have a feeling I may need a little help letting go ☺ .

lucy's photos from puerta vallarta

spreading wings

I love the beautiful "randomness" of the world; the universe. Having written and thought about dreams over the last several days, I was not at all surprised to see this "random" computer-generated thought appear in my inbox today:

"It may be those who do most, dream most." --Stephen Leacock

So what of dreaming and following our heart's desire? Do those who dream more do more? Or do they simply enjoy more of what they do? This all reminds me of another favorite quote of mine by Howard Thurman. Some of you might recognize it:

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

In my last post, I used the word "calling" in association with returning to graduate school to pursue a degree in counseling psychology. Having been a traditionalist, a conformist, whatever you want to call it, most of my life, I was used to functioning by practicalities like, Get a degree that is marketable. (I chose accounting.) Believe in God. (I found myself in a fundamental-based tradition.) Practical car. (Toyota mini-van.) House? (Two story, white house with room for children.) Get the picture?

Now please don't get me wrong, because I am not knocking any of those things. I chose them, after all, and they have been a formative part of my life. My point, however, is that it was not until I allowed myself to dream & listen (step out of "practical" patterns perhaps) that I ever began to really hear the call of my life. And, Now, the possibilities seem endless where before they felt quite finite. I began to spread my wings!

While at Mars Hill Graduate School I heard the word "calling" used often during my early years. It sounded good and began to stir something inside me, but it was not really until last week when I heard my supervisor say, "Listen to you! What a wonderful time of your life. You have found your calling!" Did I find it or did it find me? Somehow it was through the words of another that I started to understand that MY dream and MY calling are uniquely intertwined.

Random? Created? Unique? Those three things also seem intricately intertwined with each other as well as with dreams and calling. Where will they all lead? Who knows, but it is exciting to ponder. I find it amazing to see what happens when I can let go and quit trying to guess what is practical or acceptable or marketable or even possible...

So, what does the universe hold for you? Are you open to the possibilities that lie ahead? Will you allow yourself the chance to dream and listen today? It is often hard to know what the call may be or from where it comes, but one thing I do know is that a bird must spread its wings in order to fly ☺.

lucy's photos from puerta vallarta

fragile dreams

what is it about dream sharing that is so fragile? pondering some of the comments to my post, when dreams and reality collide, many thoughts ran through my head.

it feels so naked and exposed to put my dreams out into the world. it feels so presumptuous to consider some of them could possibly come true. even now as I write, I find myself holding back from sharing specifics. so I ask again, what is it about dream sharing that is so fragile? are we afraid of failure or are we afraid of success?

yesterday while driving to hood canal for a delightful afternoon with a dear friend, I found myself behind a huge red Ford pickup truck from Alaska. On its bumper was a banner that read,

“those who abandon their dreams will discourage yours.”

so I wonder, is it the discouragement of others I fear or is it my own resolve that if I state a dream out loud, one of two things will happen…1) the dream will seem ridiculously foolish or 2) I will now be “on the hook” and have to do something to make it happen--opening possibility for either success or failure. scary!

it seems that my most incredible dream fulfillment has come with surprise. in other words, it was not something planned. for example, 'I never dreamed I would go to graduate school', but when the “calling” came, I followed it and found myself experiencing a “dream come true.” wild, huh? it was a similar experience I relayed in Wednesday’s post. I never considered that writing and leading a couples’ workshop would be fulfilling a dream, but there I sat, at the end of the workshop, absorbing the experience and knowing something unexpected had played a part in making my heart a little more whole and full.

so is that what dreams are about? moving toward our heart’s desire? maybe that’s why dream sharing is so fragile, because it is a heart thing. hmmm…is sharing our heart the same as sharing our dreams?

I think I’ll ponder that one a bit more. how about you? what stirs when you think of dream sharing?

starfish - hood canal

where dreams & reality collide

“For it is in giving that we receive.” St. Francis of Assisi


wish lives. dream lives. what is next? what is past? there is so much to consider as I sit here this morning. last week my “wish” life collided with my real life and it took my breath away. in god's perfect way, it snuck up on me and I didn’t even realize what had happened until it was nearly over. how often is that the case in life?

last saturday night, I sat next to my dear husband in front of four couples who had just completed the first soltura couples’ workshop (that i had the privilege of co-writing and co-facilitating.) the couples snuggled. they glowed. they danced...hope filled their eyes. they had worked hard. they had discovered a “third way”. during the course of our four days together, they had indeed fled. they fought with each other, with themselves, with me. but in the end, they stayed. they were present. willing. open to possibility. it was miraculous to watch.

and what of my personal “collision” you might ask? as I addressed them for one official last time, tears filled my eyes and my heart welled with joy and gratitude. “thank you,” I said. “this is a dream come true for me.” even then I wondered from where did those words come? I sensed deeply that they were not just sentimental ramblings, but words that felt whole and true. it was not until the next morning as I was talking with another facilitator that I remembered the prophecy I received in the spring four years ago. in it were the words, “follow your dreams. find out what they are. do them with bill. save the families.” there was much more to that story, but even as I write this morning I realize that even now I am overcome by amazement at God’s grace and I feel the beauty and power of that collision of dream and reality.

I did not know I was on a path to dream fulfillment. I was just following my heart. the twists and turns were many. the road was long. the goal not even in sight. it snuck up on me and I didn’t even realize what had happened until it was nearly over. how often is that the case in life? ☺

what dreams are brewing for you today? will you be open, willing & present to see them? will you be open to the possibility of a new way?

may the god of grace be with you today. peace.

photo by h3images

fight, flight or a third way?

We are slowly discovering what many of us are calling "the Third Way," neither flight nor fight, but the way of compassionate knowing. Both the way of fight and the way of flight fall short of wisdom, although they look like answers in the heat of the moment. When it's an either/or world you have no ability to transcend, to hold together, to be creative.

from Hope Against Darkness by Richard Rohr

I read the above quote this morning and it really resonated with me. As is often the case, many different thoughts and ideas started swirling around in my mind and fighting for attention. I thought of my recent post, feel your feelings as well as Sunrise Sister’s post here. The other topic that ran through my mind was the Couples Workshop that I am leaving to facilitate tomorrow.

As I reflect on these three topics, I realize that they cover relationships with ourselves, the world and committed personal relationships—as well as our overreaching relationship with God which always shows up (I believe) when our eyes and hearts are open ☺.

Limited on time this morning, I cannot delve into this as I would like, however, here are a few thoughts that worked their way onto paper.

Will the couples (will we as people; I as a person) choose to fight or flee or will they decide to try something new in relationship? We must be risk takers in order to be peacemakers. They go hand in hand. It is sometimes risky to seek peace. To seek a new way of looking at things. To do something different when the old is not working.

In living each day there is always the urge to fight or flee. Sinking into depression and not considering options can be a form of flight. Immediately going to outside sources for cures, saying “Nothing is wrong” or merely treating of symptoms is a form of fight. Feeling the pain, being in it, wrestling with it, resonates of the "compassionate knowing" of which Rohr speaks.

There are so many ways to look at this, but for now these are the bubblings of my brain. I am not sure if I will be back here over the next week or not. I hope you will ponder some of these thoughts along with me. Also, if you are so inclined, please say a prayer, send special thoughts, warm feelings, whatever it is you may do to the brave men and women who will be participating in Soltura’s first couples workshop. I am one of the facilitators and I am excited, encouraged AND nervous as can be!

May each of us consider choosing a “compassionate knowing” rather than fight or flight as we enter this new week. Peace! ☺

feel your feelings

“The fastest way to freedom is to feel your feelings” -- Gita Bellen

There is a post bubbling around in here, but my aching neck demands attention. Some would say I must immediately go to a doctor and that might be true. Others would recommend I take an aspirin and rest. Personally, I can most easily justify it by knowing that I slept scrunched up last night, had a glass of wine and popcorn for dinner and spent yesterday dusting, vacuuming and cleaning dog fur from my house (a very good thing ☺). The feelings I refer to today, however, are not the aches and pains in my body, but the ones that held me in the emotional dump this week. It was amazing how once I wrote those feelings down—articulated them—really sat in them awhile---that I was able to release them…or at least begin to feel some freedom from their hold on me.

The heaviness began to lift even though circumstances had not really changed. It was like lining them up to look at, placing them on a boat and watching them float out to sea. The “problems” where not gone, they were now simply seen from a different viewpoint. In other words, I still have the same amount of work facing me. My house still needed cleaning. My children are still teenagers, etc. etc. One thing that has changed is the skies are not so gray--both literally and figuratively. (I also realize this is the place where some of you may be quick to diagnose me with seasonal affective disorder, but that is not the point here and it kind of is ☺.)

I think about the complexities of life and all of the choices we can make to help us feel better. We can pop a pill, numb ourselves, put on a happy face, and hurry to fix things. I am not saying that action does not need to happen, but I am suggesting that we not overlook the power of actually doing as Bellen says and “feeling our feelings” rather than stuffing them down, looking for the quick fix or anesthetizing them away. Because, guess what? Feelings don’t really go away.

Believe me, I have all sorts of little tricks to get myself out of the blues. I know deep in my heart that my nature is one of light and joy rather than darkness and gloom. But both are part of me. Sometimes to get back to wholeness, I just need to sit in whatever feelings are coming my way—irrational, justified or uncomfortable as they may be. It is all so paradoxical. For example, I know that my daughter does not really hate me and, of course, at some level she does. After all, she’s 15 and that’s part of her job to differentiate from Mom. My son is 36 days sober today which is wonderful AND it terrifies me that the number could go back to zero at any moment. I have checked things off my list AND the list continues to grow. There is much to manage and experience and this post could go on forever. And in reality, that is what this blog is about. It is about my experiences and feelings. It is about where I am today…right now…this very moment. It is about my feelings and thoughts as long as I allow myself to let them flow.

So, today, the sun is shining. My heart is filled with gratitude. My gentle readers rose to the occasion and allowed me to “feel my feelings.” Thank you. We’ll see what happens next.

So, how will you feel your feelings today? Boldly? Gently? Wisely? Not at all? Or maybe today, you will simply choose to feel the sun on your skin or the crunch of the snow under your feet or watch the rain through your window? I’d love to know.

photos by lucy --yelapa, mexico

a little space

Come near, that no more blinded by man's fate,
I find under the boughs of love and hate,
In all poor foolish things that live a day,
Eternal beauty wandering her way.

Come near, come near, come near--Ah, leave me still
A little space for the rose-breath to fill!

--William Butler Yeats

the sun is shining
the fog is lifting
words of beauty speak again
my eyes have opened
my heart is grateful
friends have drawn near &
still left me space for breath to fill.

blessings to all who read here today. peace.

emotional dump

warning: this is NOT a feel good post...

how long is it o.k. to stay in a funk? what is socially acceptable? personally acceptable? I feel like sh.t. my head has hurt for several days and I have felt nauseous too. if I didn’t know better, I might think I was pregnant. yikes! maybe that’s the issue. I am experiencing the pains of pregnancy and childbirth, but right now it is with nearly grown children…loss of dreams…loss of hope... when can hope return? how many times must we experience "death" so that we may be "reborn?" the dying is getting tedious. I don’t want to do it anymore. I signed up for Italy and I got Auschwitz where I am one of the "able-bodied" who must continue to work and work and work and feel the pain rather than the more swift alternative of certain death.

when does the "living death" lift? when will the clean air start to fill my lungs again? and the original question...how long is it o.k. to stay in a funk, because everyone seems to want to pull me out of it…occasionally even myself…but more than not wanting to be in a funk, I am tired of the yoyo…the pendulum…the highs are too high and the lows are too low…swimming with the dolphins…high…bitter words and stalled relationships…low…sitting on a sailboat, listening to classical music, surrounded by blue seas...high…watching your children self-destruct…low. I am tired. really sick and tired. can I pull the covers over my head and wake up in a few years like rip van winkle? is it better to just hang out at the bottom of the pendulum? numb, but safe? my friends say, “drink a margarita”. “go for a drive in the sunshine.” “don’t try so hard.” “breathe.” yea. whatever.

sorry for the funkiness...don't say i didn't warn you...where do you hang out on the pendulum?

Home

Oh it is hard to re-enter the "real" world. Why do we have to? Can I not just stay in that moment-to-moment glorious, watch the sea waves, feel the sunshine, sit with friends glory?

It is gray and cold here. Volumes of e-mails await me along with a huge project for work. My kids demand attention in a detached sort of way. There is dog fur everywhere and the house needs a good cleaning. All I want to do is sit on a boat and listen to the waves lap against the side.

I have tried for two days now to catch up on e-mail and look at what has been happening in the blog world, but it has been to no avail. I have decided to say “hello” for now. I am back and I am not. Returning to Seattle feels more like a foreign country today than either Mexico or France. Am I a stranger in my own home? Where is home? Home is where the heart is. Hmmmm...I think I will sit with that for a while today.

waking to a new song

In the movie, “Dan in Real Life,” Julliette Binoche’s character describes her perfect day as “waking up in a foreign country, not really knowing the language, ready for adventure, so amazing.”

I ran across those words this morning as I took a quick peek into my Paris journal. As I have mentioned here before, I have been dreaming in French since I returned from my trip. One of the outstanding lines is “Je ne parle pas Francais”…I don’t speak French. Many wonderful comments were left about the wildness there is in not understanding language and I plan to continue to ponder, collage and sort through what that means for me. Today, however, I was delighted to read my own words written shortly after I returned to Seattle.

listening to the patter of language around me…not having to partake or be responsible for what was going on…just listening...like music—listening to a song I could not understand, but still loving the melody and the message…a lullaby…a love song…written just for me…this past week was my love song to myself…a beautiful gift that only I could give.

When you do not understand the language around you, where do your thoughts go? Do you fight it and retreat? Or do you choose to hear it as a new song around you? Maybe it is a beautiful love song or possibly it is a fight song you would rather tune out. What is the language you hear today—wherever you are?

Peace.

"glory" photo from musee d'orsay

Easter Reflection

even in death and darkness, there is the light.
redemption. resurrection.
words of my childhood
words of my faith
words of my hope
the eyes of Jesus
death in the tomb
the light of new day
it is there
always there, heavenly Father
Mother of heaven and earth
light shines upon me and through me
the eyes of Jesus
head bowed
hair flowing
the cross & resurrection
new birth of Easter
hope
peace flows like a river from the light
to death and beyond
peace in the garden
fleeing the tomb
he is risen
she is risen indeed.

photo taken Easter morning 3.23.08 @ crown hill cemetery

the wonder of little boys

This morning while reading this post, I was touched by the images of discovery and childlikeness. While in Paris, in addition to dog stalking which sounds reasonably odd, I was also drawn to child watching (which I realize could move from "odd" to downright creepy in many contexts ☺.) Not to worry, however, I was most touched by the sense of wonder in the children I observed. Sue's post included this special T.S. Eliot quote:

We shall not cease from exploration,
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

So, I am sharing a few of my Paris children (all little boys). I have not included the girls because today I think of my own beautiful boy who at near age 19, has a hard time remembering his own sense of wonder.





And although, my big boy may think he is all grown up, I still remember when his sense of joy and wonder filled his life, because...


He is mine; And I have different eyes That hold his yesterdays In pictures no one else remembers:

Waiting for him to be born, Not knowing who he would be, The moments of his childhood, First steps, first words, Smiles and cries, And all the big thresholds Of his journey since...

He is mine in a way No words could ever tell; And I can see through The stranger he has become And still find the countenance of my son.**

**adapted from John O'Donohue blessings.

photos from Paris. last photo circa 1994--j & me

What's your best?

Geez Louise, this process of wounding, healing, living fully, loving well…is all so exhausting. Should it be? What is the cost of living well? Or thinking you live well? From where does the pressure come? If I was brilliant yesterday, does that mean I must be brilliant again today or I am a failure? Don Miguel Ruiz says, “Always do your best.” Some days that means you pull the covers up and stay in bed.

As I was writing this little rant, I looked out of the window and saw a beautiful little sparrow in the fresh spring blossoms of my ornamental plum tree. It reminded me of a Bible verse which quickly slipped my mind, but I landed on “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” It is apt, but not the one for which I was looking. Wait, here we go: “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?”

How do we stay in relationship (or do anything) if we are constantly worrying about wounding and being wounded. What does it mean to find our own rhythm in the context of relationship? It is such a paradox. A paradoxical dance. I want to see well. I want to be in relationship. I want to find my own pace and rhythm.

Since I returned from Paris, I have been dreaming in French. One of the phrases, that sticks out in my mind is "Je ne parle pas Francais." I don’t speak French. Translated for me from dream world, it means I don’t speak the language. Is that what living life means? Constantly trying to learn the language of ourselves and of those around us? Who does the wounding? Who is responsible for the healing? Can love overcome all? Is it as simple as “turning it over to Christ?” So simple. So hard. So challenging.

Today I will choose to do my best. Who knows what that will look like? Maybe it is some ramblings on a page. Maybe it will be some completed tasks. Maybe it will include pulling the covers back over my head. Life is exhausting…AND it is an amazing and wonderful adventure…Maybe it’s worth peaking through the covers to see what’s out there. Maybe it's worth doing my best...whatever that may look like.

Thoughts? Stirrings? Rants, perhaps?

photo: 'waiting for the bus' by lucy