Internal or External?

Pondering. Resting. Sleeping. Reading. Considering others. Caring for myself. All of these things seem to be the rhythm of my Lenten days. An internal air continues to hover around me and as I just responded to a lovely post at Barefoot Toward the Light, I realize this quiet space feels just right for now. Different for me, but somehow just right.

It has been a simple weekend filled with walks and lots of rest. I've taken care of the few "have to's" on my list and spent the rest of the time tending to relationship - sometimes with my family, often with God, always with me. It feels necessary and good.

In the midst of the internal space, I also received two very outward reminders of my presence in the world which were delightful indeed. Yesterday, I received my very own copy of Awakening the Creative Spirit - a fantastic new book by Christine Paintner and Betsey Beckman, two of my dear friends and colleagues. I highly recommend it for anyone interested in the arts and becoming "fully awake" as today's Lenten verse* highlights. The exciting news for me is that I am the co-writer of Chapter 15 on "Arts-Centered Supervision". You can only imagine my delight to see my authorship officially acknowledged on page 197 (as well as a few other places throughout the book!)

The other 'outward reminder' can be found in visual form where you catch a glimpse of me as spiritual director in this PBS episode on religion. I show up around minute two with my most compassionate face and listening ears. Don't blink or you'll miss my adult TV debut! Seriously, it's a great video covering the topic of spiritual direction. I hope you'll go take a peak!!

OK, that's all I have to share for now. Time to huddle back up with hot tea and my Kindle!

P.S. I'd love to know how your Lenten season is progressing.

*Luke 9:28-36

Shilshole Sailboats - 2.20.10 © lucy

Clean Heart

Have mercy on me, God, in your goodness; in your abundant compassion blot out my offense.
Wash away all my guilt; from my sin cleanse me.
For I know my offense; my sin is always before me.
Against you alone have I sinned;
I have done such evil in your sight
That you are just in your sentence,
blameless when you condemn.
True, I was born guilty, a sinner,
even as my mother conceived me.
Still, you insist on sincerity of heart;
in my inmost being teach me wisdom.
Cleanse me with hyssop, that I may be pure;
wash me, make me whiter than snow.
Let me hear sounds of joy and gladness;
let the bones you have crushed rejoice.
Turn away your face from my sins;
blot out all my guilt.
A clean heart create for me, God;
renew in me a steadfast spirit.
Do not drive me from your presence,
nor take from me your holy spirit.
Restore my joy in your salvation;
sustain in me a willing spirit.

-Psalm 51: 3-14

Well, I have to say this week’s Lent readings from Abbey of the Arts are tapping into my fury at a God of judgment and condemnation. My early personal story contains a history of God principally being defined by fear and rarely offering unconditional love. I also struggle with the notion of being “sinner(s) even as (our) mother(s) conceived (us).”

Today I wonder about the Psalmist and consider perhaps he wrote from his own inner voice of condemnation – passing the buck to God as the One who blames us for sin. For most human beings, it’s much easier to blame outside circumstances or other people rather than look inside and hold our own responsibility. Personally, I would prefer to “blame” myself rather than worship a vengeful God who creates sinners by design.

I’m much more inclined to start with Genesis 1:31 and hear the resounding, “it was very good” than “...born guilty, a sinner, even as my mother conceived me.” Where does the latter fit with “it was very good”?

Lest you think I believe everything is sweet hearts and rosy flowers, I know it is true that we “sin.” We turn away from God. We turn away from ourselves. We turn away from others. The cloak of darkness shrouds us tighter and tighter, especially when we listen to those voices of condemnation and evil. We move toward hate – hating ourselves and thus hating others. I cannot reconcile the discrepancy (and ensuing theological debate) between Genesis and this Psalm other than to consider it as man’s influence in the writing. Perchance he writes from a mind riddled with guilt, thus momentarily forgetting the goodness and light I believe resides in each of us.

This Lenten season, my turning is toward God – toward my inner most self – the one who shows mercy and compassion. If I truly forgive myself knowing all that I have done wrong and felt and been, how can I not forgive others? How can I not find rest and have my joy restored?

By being more compassionate toward myself and thus others, I move toward God. We are all created with a Divine spark – perhaps it is hidden in the clean heart this Psalmist begs for.

I'ao Valley River © lucy
Maui graffiti © lucy

To Be

My thoughts wonder if it’s vacation? Lent? Something else? But, I have been experiencing a rather odd aversion to communing with my computer. My quiet time seems of utmost importance lately. I just want to be. Slow. Still. Present.

I returned home from vacation with a slight cold and it seems to slow me down even more. I find myself just wanting to close my eyes and be. No input. No output. A recent Lent reading* spoke of Jesus in the desert. I’d love to be in the desert for 40 days to just be, but what in the world does that even mean? Right now it feels like no details – no have to’s – just show up and be present to God. To be one with the world. Sit in the glow of the sun or feel raindrops on my face. Watch water trickle from the edge of the Creator’s fingers while matching the pace of gentle, falling rain. Pondering what it means to be.

"Be still and know I am God."
Be still and know I am.
Be still and know.
Be still.
Be.

*Luke 4:1-13

shilshole gull © lucy 2.20.10

Ash Wednesday

Even now, says the Lord,
return to me with your whole heart,
with fasting, and weeping, and mourning;
Rend your hearts, not your garments,
and return to the Lord, your God.

-Joel 2:12-13

Receiving the ashes from an Episcopal priest in the open-air church on the island of Maui is a far cry from my experience of last year’s Ash Wednesday. I find myself wondering is it time, distance, place, me or all of the above that rings differently? Last year’s celebration was in a more evangelical setting and I found that I was battling my own inner struggles with childhood and early adult notions of fire, brimstone and eternal hell.

This year’s rendering felt more attuned to my heart and state of mind. The here and now was more prescient than an out there view of penitence. My morning focus came from today’s verse (see above) in the Abbey of the Arts Lenten series where I landed on what it means to “rend my heart.”

“Rending” to me focuses on those tiny rips and tears that happen subtlely (and not so subtlely) throughout the day. Do I say a discourteous word to someone or think a prideful thought? While I in no means want to lean toward the do’s and don’ts of a faith by works theology, I am struck by the infinitesimal ways I can offend others and thus my own self (often without a word leaving my mouth or an overt action taking place.)

Today after the morning church service and breakfast, we took a drive to the Iao Valley, which is one of our personal guide’s favorite historical spots on the island. A great battle was fought in this valley and so many died there legend says the river ran red with blood for weeks after the engagement. There is also a lovely park with visual representations of the many immigrant populations of this island. My heart again turned to “rending” and the large tears and carnage that we as human beings inflict upon each other.

It has been another magical day in paradise. My heart has turned toward God again and I ponder what the rest of Lent will hold for me. What will the rending look like? Will there be healing too? Where will blood flow through the rivers of my life? What battles lie ahead?

This morning rending came defined as harsh and harrowing, and while the definition may not have changed, it feels like the turning (& tearing) of my heart continues on the path toward a God who heals and walks alongside through both peaceful times and tumultuous ones. It is a God worth turning toward.

Where is your heart turning this Lenten season? Can you feel the rending? Will you be open to God’s mending? Is paradise yours - here and now?

view inside Holy Innocents Church - Maui © h3images
Iao Valley © h3 images

Sea glass. Sea turtles. Sea breeze.

Amazing time away. The title of the post narrowly describes it.

The meditative time of sorting, sifting, digging and splashing for decades old pieces of tumbled glass is only describable to those who "get it." My sis and I... we do. The rest of the clan smiles and says "You look happy." (We are.)

Today's amazing glimpse of water enveloped a giant sea turtle who entertained us for what could have been hours. A massive head and enormous flippers bobbed up and down out of the water only feet away. The full portrait of the prehistoric shelled beast captured in the aquamarine wave back lit by the sun left us gasping for more.

Pink-tinted cumulus clouds wrapped the Valentine's evening as the sun set over the Pacific sea. How do you define paradise? Read between the lines if you must. All I have to say is, "I'm here."

Aloha, my friends.

The weather's beautiful. Wish you were here...

'surfer's on maui's north shore' © h3images

Guilt or Gratitude?

It’s a surreal experience, sitting in an aluminum tube looking out the window from 30,000+ feet to witness only vast expanses of water while knowing this morning I left my Seattle home where it was dark and rainy and by late afternoon, I will be feeling the warmth of the Hawaiian sun. My husband sits beside me listening to an i-pod and reading his Kindle. My daughter and her friend behind us with their manicured nails fiddling on assorted gadgetry to keep them busy. We indeed live a privileged life and at this very moment I am trying to feel gratitude instead of guilt.

My own reading topic of the moment is a book called Trauma Stewardship by Laura Van Dernoot Lipsky, and it is what prompted this post.

“I went shopping last week for a pair of shoes, and I thought to myself, “What kind of person would go shopping for a pair of shoes right now?” Community activist, New Orleans, nine months after Hurricane Katrina

As I read the above quote, I was filled with flashbacks of the last few weeks. As I mentioned in this post, I have spent lots of time working with individuals (myself included) who struggle with “good fortune” and “privilege” particularly in light of the recent devastation in Haiti. A few days ago, I had virtually the same thought: How can I be going to Maui when people are buried under rubble in Haiti? Never mind that the trip was planned months before the recent earthquake. Our thoughts don’t always make sense do they?

Lipsky says it is a common experience of caregivers to feel guilt over the disparity between our lives and the lives of those we serve. I felt a twinge of this same guilt yesterday as my co-facilitator and I finished up our weekly session of Deepening Spirituality through SoulCollage® at the Recovery Café. Our class represents a variety of participants, many who live on the margins of poverty. So when my friend prompted me to tell the participants that I would be absent next week, I felt a slight twinge of guilt. I announced my absence and they quickly replied with “Where are you going??!?!” I hesitated a beat, breathed in and exhaled, “Maui.” “Maui?!? Are you kidding? Lucky you! We hate you. No fair. Teachers aren’t supposed to play hooky!” The good-natured barrage continued until I finally laughed, “Hey, sorry guys, I’m going and I’ll see you when I get back.” They responded playfully and I realized we were having an authentic encounter that brought us closer than ever in our humanity. It turned into a magically sweet moment and my resolve to not downplay my trip, but to send them a postcard and let them know I really was thinking of them.

Lipsky goes onto say when we downplay our own good fortune, we distance ourselves from others by not being genuine, and ultimately begin “to experience our own life with less abundance and joy than we truly feel.”

All of these moments fit into my primary pondering category of self-care leading to good care of others. My husband and I both declared a night or two ago that we are really tired. It’s been a stressful few months and we need to recharge. Yes, we are fortunate and can afford a plane ticket and a week in a nice condo – but in my heart I take along those with whom I work and know that I will be a better caregiver for this respite.

So, I’m curious – do you ever find yourself downplaying your good fortune? What is the impact for you? Do you feel better or worse? Does it bring you closer to others or increase the distance? And what of ‘authentic encounter’? How has it expanded your view of humanity?

Well, this may be the deepest (or only) thought you get out of me for a few days. Who knows? I’m off to recharge and setting aside my guilt for the time being. ☺

Aloha!

rainbow over honolulu © lucy 2.11.10

first glimpse of maui © lucy 2.11.10

Love. Fear. Sorrow. Transformation. Coincidence?

Synchronicity? God? Once again I am awed by the great presence that surrounds us. Shortly after writing this post, I opened up my e-mail to read the following. Coincidence?

When have love or suffering transformed me?

"Two universal and prime paths of transformation have always been available to every human being God has created: great love and great suffering. Only love and suffering are strong enough to break down our usual ego defenses, crush our dualistic thinking, and open us up to Mystery. They, like nothing else, exude the mysterious chemistry that can transmute us from a fear-based life to a love-based life. No surprise that the Christian icon of redemption is a man offering love from a crucified position…. Love and suffering are the main portals that open up the mind space and the heart space, breaking us into breadth and depth and communion." --Richard Rohr

#2 - from Inspired

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”

~Jalal ad-Din Rumi

#3 - from Writing without Paper

"Here's the thing, say Shug. The thing I believe. God is inside you and inside everybody else. You come into the world with God. But only them that search for it inside find it. And sometimes it just manifest itself even if you are not looking, or don't know what you're looking for. Trouble do it for most folks, I think. Sorrow, lord."

~ Alice Walker

Ponder this with me... love. fear. suffering. transformation. synchronicity. coincidence.

Madrona means Mother

Oh my, do I have lots to share this morning?!??! So much to say. So little time! There is so much gloriousness floating around in the world, I can hardly stand it. Yesterday, I was greeted by this blogger for the first time. She mentioned how our blogs have much in common and when I read "What a beautiful mess this is", I thought she had borrowed something from me. I went searching to find some profound words about the madrona tree, thinking they were posted somewhere in this site. Alas, I had only penned them to my son back in December.

So, in a rush and without further adieu, I share with you these beautiful words about this amazing piece of nature.

“When a madrona branch withers and dies, it is not in the nature of the tree to allow it to rot or drop off. Its mother tree refuses to abandon it. Rather, as the young, healthy wood and bark grow, they creep up around the aged gray appendage like a bandage, a second skin, covering and protecting it, welcoming it back to tree-ness. No wonder the word “madrona” means “mother.” -- Luci Shaw

So, tell me... what do you think of the madrona? Nurturing? Co-dependent? Fabulous example? What images come to your mind?

Off the path or On?

“…it is the path off the path that brings us to God.” -- Mark Nepo

I could hear the fear in her voice – tangible, palpable, present. She was grasping for someone –in this case, a Christian counselor – who could bring her fractured family back together. Our conversation was brief since the role of mediator had already been filled. Still, her terror has stayed with me. I wholly connect with the panic for her family, but it is not this fear I ponder today.

To be clear, let me say this is someone I know and for who I have great respect. In this context, she’d visited my website and noticed the impact of Julia Cameron’s Artist’s Way on my life. Unlike others who have watched my personal transformation over the last several years, she feared for my salvation. I had “opened myself up” to broader horizons and in her God-fearing mind that isn’t a good thing. Again, her fear was palpable and it is that I ponder. What follows are my morning pages (thanks, Julia):

Fear is a powerful weapon. Fear is evil. It may even be what the Bible speaks of. If God is love, it would make sense that fear is evil or Satan or the serpent or whatever you want to call it. Fear is the seducer. The one that keeps us from God. From love. Fear is power…Fear moves me away from God. Fear moves me away from love.

And as I wrote those words, I realize fear is also what ultimately moved me toward God. Broken, desperate, panicked – my family reached for something that could bring our fractured family back together. In our case, we ended up in a fishing village in Mexico – a boarding school as our hope. I sat alone by a pool, focusing on an assignment to meditate on the 11th step of AA. I "opened myself," and in “unorthodox” prayer, God met me on the page. I wrote like a fiend and a near-stranger heard my words and introduced me to the Artist’s Way. The rest they say is history. My world as I knew it was broken wide open and stepping through my fear I began to receive the world in new ways. I began to look fully into the face of both love and fear.

Big topics here, I know. I wonder where or if these words resonate for you. Is God love? And what of fear? Today, on this sacred Sunday, I offer gratitude for my God who is big enough to journey with me off the path and I humbly offer the following prayer:

Let me live in my house by the side of the road,
where all manner of folk go by.
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
wise, foolish – so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner’s seat
or hurl the cynic’s ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
and be the friend I can. – Sam Walter Foss from Celtic Daily Prayer

girl on beach© 2.6.10
point defiance© 9.09

February SoulCollage®

Please join me on Friday, February 19, 2010 from 6:30 - 9:30 p.m. to explore the rhythms of the heart by making your own SoulCollage® cards.

Beginners and experienced collagers are welcome at this three-hour studio. All supplies and instruction will be provided in a relaxed and fun atmosphere.

Workshop held at Soma Yoga in Crown Hill, Seattle, WA. Pre-registration cost is $35. ($40 - night of the event.) Space is limited, so register today.

For questions or to sign up, leave me a comment. Please pass this information along to anyone who might be interested!

You can visit the official SoulCollage® website here.

SoulCollage® is the process, developed by Seena B. Frost, of creating a deck of collaged cards from found images for the primary purpose of self-exploration and self-acceptance.

What station are you tuned to?

“Prayer is actually setting out a tuning fork. All you can really do in the spiritual life is get tuned to receive the always-present message. Once you are tuned, you will receive, and it has nothing to do with worthiness or the group you belong to, but only inner resonance and a capacity for mutuality. The Sender is absolutely and always present and broadcasting; the only change is with the receiver station.” -- Richard Rohr

In my Celtic spirituality class this week, our assignment was to write a prayer in the way of the Celtic Christians and compose it out of the stuff of our own life. I knew the assignment was coming up, I didn’t feel particularly anxious about it, but when the time came to actually write, I froze. All I could think of were the examples we had been reading over the last two weeks. Vast experiences of the Trinitarian God in rhyme and rhythm; poetic use of meter and repetition. My mind went blank. My tuning fork shut down and my head filled with the pressure of performance.

Taking a few deep breaths (one of my favorite forms of self-care), I hit my reset button and began to simply journal. I drew myself back into the present – into the “stuff of my life” and Voila! there was the Sender – broadcasting loud and clear.

While the end result still feels a little clunky to me – not much rhyme or meter – I realize it is indeed a prayer of my own with hints of the Celtic Christians. It is also a wonderful reminder (as my days continue to rise and swell and dip and sink like the vast ocean) that the present moment is all I really have. If I can find myself there, I have hope to ride the crest of the wave and emerge outside the trough. Sensing the resonance and knowing there is One who rides the waves with me, lets me know I am tuned to a sustainable frequency.

Arising Presence

Breaking through the dreams of night,
slowly I awaken.
Rain falls softly on the lawn and
in my heart I hear the call,
Listen. Listen. Listen.

I stretch and feel my sinewy limbs
gently come alive.
Golden softness brushes my palm,
The breath of God caresses my face.
Listen. Listen. Listen.

Spirit prompts and says, Arise.
Come greet the day that lies before.
Listen. Listen. Listen.

Holy friend, you walk beside.
My feet caressed in lamb’s soft wool,
we step 'cross solid ground of oak.
I feel your touch and once again hear,
Listen. Listen. Listen.

Father God, Creator Soul you meet me
through breath & touch & sound.
Rain falling. Breath purring.
Wool caressing. Ground holding.
Speaking to the dreams of day,
Listen. Listen. Listen.

© Kayce S. Hughlett 2010

Feast Day of St. Brigid

Please join me today in celebrating St. Brigid - famous for her hospitality and celebrating the ordinary. I love this woman!!!

"Healing God, come to our hidden corners,
remove the stone and grit we cling to,
that prevent the water of life flowing free."
--Prayer from Solas Bhride, Kildare.

Jan Richardson offers a beautiful and detailed description of this incredible woman. I invite you to read more here. Thank you, Jan!

photo @ St. Brigid's well, Kildare, 10.09

Coming off the ledge

Here are a few thoughts that have been swimming around in my brain in preparation for a session I’m offering Saturday to upcoming graduates with degrees in counseling psychology, masters of divinity and Christian studies. The topic: Self-care.

It takes courage to slow down. To say, “I need a break.” Our world encourages burn out. Give. Give. Give. Nowhere do I see this more than with people in the helping professions. Pastors. Priests. Social workers. Counselors. Chaplains. Because, you see, there is a never ending supply of people who need help.

Parents are also notorious for running themselves ragged with the self-invalidating stance of “my kids need me.” You hear it from the exhausted mother who sews a button on the child’s performance costume minutes before the school program. Or from the dad who runs out at 9:30 p.m. after a full day’s work to get the book his teen just now said she needs for homework (even though she’s known it for weeks.) We can’t say no. We don’t say no even when we’re dead dog tired, and our insides are screaming, GRRRRRRR.

Then we get up the next morning, slosh down a cup of coffee, grab a bagel or maybe smoke a cigarette and head out the door before we’re even awake, because someone needs us. We encourage others to take care of themselves while we border on the unethical (or at least hypocritical), as we let the stress pile on. When does it stop? How do we break the cycle?

Scripture admonishes us to “Love God and love our neighbors as ourselves.” How warped have we made those beautiful words? We either forget ourselves all together and press through with a smile and a latte; or we love others just as we love ourselves – not very well. And God? Who has time?

Caring for one’s self is hard, hard work. Does any tiny bit of this resonate with you? How’s your pulse today? Relaxed? On the verge of burnout? Exhausted? Terrified? Excited? All of the above? If you’re one of the few who feels calm and practices self-care, tell us: Where do you find respite?

How do you respond when I say to you, “Take care of yourself. Your life depends on it”? Imagine this… in order to continue with the work you love, you have to stop now. You can’t see another client or respond to your child or answer an e-mail or text. You’ve got to throw away your computer and lock the doors to your office (or personal space). You have one hour to find solace. No, wait, that’s too much time. 10 minutes.

So could you do it? Could you implement a self-care strategy within that time frame? I offer you this challenge…. You have 10 minutes to pull yourself back in from the ledge, what do you do? Go ahead, make the list. Then pick one item and do it! ☺

Here’s the short list that popped into my mind:

1. 10 minutes with my cat
2. 3 pages of uncensored journaling
3. Listen to two or three of my favorite songs
4. 5 deep breathes, a couple of full stretches & the rest of the time in child’s pose
5. A walk around the block – brisk or slow, as needed

Ahhhh. I feel better already. I look forward to hearing from you.

Gift

Pinned.
I can’t move.
His purr vibrates against my chest.
The rise and fall of breath beneath my palm.
Soft golden fur caresses my fingertips.
Warm breath, steamy on my wrist.

We rise and fall together.
Breathing.
Only this moment exists.
His wisdom says,
“This is enough.”

He shows me what it’s like
To push your way into love & care.
“This is what I need right now.
This is what you need, too,"
I hear the gentle murmur.

No need to rush
Or hurry
Or read
Or think
Just…

Feel the rise and fall
The beating of our hearts
The rhythm of two connected as one
In the gentle breaking dawn

My gift for the day.
Take it with you and
Hold this place of rest
Calm
Stillness
God.

Learn from the wisdom of
This one
Who knows only now
Who knows the embrace of
The one who loves

Pondering... Sea Glass

Sea glass. Today I hold a meager collection, fitting into two ounces of crystal glass my mother used to serve Bailey’s Irish Cream. The tiny assortment mesmerizes me, both in the meditative gathering along the beach, as well as here in captivity, nestled amidst my simple treasures.

Pieces of glass tossed into the sea. Like memories some sink to the depths of unknowing – others magically appear on the desolate beach – glimmering – waiting to be collected – taken home and treasured as something new.

Tiny bits of amber, azure, emerald and smoky white. From where did they tumble? A humble beginning? Beer bottle in the hand of a local drunken boatman? Something more grand? The carrier of passionate script from a star-crossed lover? Ancient treasure tossing in the surf for centuries?

How began the journey to now? The essential breaking against an exotic piece of ebony coral? A fate more ordinary perhaps? Colliding with the hulk of a massive container ship or the speeding prop of a passing pleasure boat?

What seems most certain is no one noticed when the change began. Or how long the agitation cycle has spun to achieve these smooth edges. One might consider this not even a point worth pondering…

Still…Can one measure the length of metamorphosis from dangerous garbage on the beach into a treasure to collect? Oh I wonder…

Update: Pop on over to the Mind Sieve and read her take on Sea Glass - & No... we didn't plan this.

'beachcomber' © lucy 1.24.10

Big. Too Big???

I'm not much of a TV fan. In fact, I don't really even know how to use our Cable set up that we installed several months ago. Late one Saturday night, I stumbled across a viewing of an old Harry Potter movie while I needed background activity for something else and that's the extent of my recent TV viewing. Except for... there's often an "except", my guilty pleasure of ordering Grey's Anatomy through i-Tunes. It's delivered privately to my computer whenever there's a new episode. I must admit, I'm hooked. There is drama, PG-13 sex, laughter, excellent music and so many metaphors for life I can hardly stand it. This week I found myself mesmerized, enchanted and in near tears as I connected with the passionate dialogue of a 350 pound+ opera singer. It resonated profoundly, so I transcribed his speech to ponder here.

“I’m big. Too Big. I don’t fit in airplane seats and my feelings don’t always fit the situation. If my food is overcooked, I get enraged. I want to kill the waiter… but I don’t. I politely ask him to take my meal back and prepare it the way I asked for it. I spend my days making myself small... more acceptable, and that’s ok, because at night, when I go on stage, I get to experience the world as I feel it, with indescribable rage and unbearable sadness and huge passion. At night, on stage, I get to kill the waiter and dance on his grave, and if I can’t do that…if all I have is a life of making myself smaller, then I don’t want to live . I don’t. And believe me, honey, you don’t want me to live.” From Grey’s Anatomy 1.21.10

While I do fit in the seat of an airplane, my emotional intensity often reaches proportions that can feel "too big". When that happens I must choose whether or not I will make myself smaller or go with the flow and risk dancing on the waiter's grave.

So, any other Grey's fans out there? Ever land in a situation and find yourself living large or making small?

ever feel like this?

Breaking Open

I need to write these words and I need to have them witnessed. They feel raw, discombo- bulated and important – at least for me. Slowing down this morning, my emotions lean toward the weight of the world – mine, my children’s, the children of Haiti and yours.

Monday, I sat with a young woman who is fighting for her life. She is not physically ill or destitute – most would say she lives a privileged life – and she would not disagree. Still… she struggles. This week, her battle for self-awareness was set against the devastation and death in Haiti… her search for personal peace transposed against a backdrop of events tangibly bigger than her own breaking heart. It is surreal and she paused to decide if she is worth it – to consider if she matters enough to fight for her own life without appearing selfish.

Tuesday, I engaged in a conversation with graduates of a Christian institution. The topic: What makes the institution unique? (i.e. Why go there, donate your money or invest your time?) One young man articulated before he went to school there, he had a 'Save the World' mentality that felt huge and impossible to accomplish. Now he sees things on a smaller scale – one individual - one conversation at a time. This feels doable. This feels like the Gospel to him – and I would not disagree. Can the world be saved on this scale?

As I write, dozens of other faces in this short week flash through my mind. Wednesday’s encounter with a woman who has heart-warming dreams that fill her to near bursting, but has a hard time seeing how those dreams can impact the outer world. Monday’s witness of prisoners in orange jump suits, some angry and entitled – others grateful to be alive and willing to transform one day at a time – some both. The only thing separating them and me is the color of their suit and my ability to walk out the steel-encased doors. Yesterday, I facilitated (& participated in) a recovery group where I am awed by the vast array of socio-economic, cultural, and spiritual representations. All an integral part of the world. All unique individuals. All just like me.

So, I sit here this morning snuggled with my golden cat, slowing down long enough to consider these things. I am near overwhelmed with sadness for my own broken heart and filled with hope for change in the world. Things seem to be shifting – or perhaps it’s just me? I am reminded of Mother Teresa’s prayer for her heart to break wide open so the whole world may fall in. Today, the world is right here with me. In this moment, I am grateful and awash in a sea of other emotions.

Is it enough to care for ourselves when others are dying? Do we not each die a bit every day? Can a breath of life in my body reach across the world? Does it have to go that far or is it enough to touch someone across the room, or closer yet to fill my own lungs?

by the sea © lucy 1.09.10

Oodles of Delicious

For Christmas, I received a wonderful little diary called "Keel's Simple Diary." It has sometimes silly and often thought-provoking prompts to jot down reminders of your life. Yesterday's first prompt looked like this:

Your day was (choose only one).

() getting there () outspoken (X) like spaghetti.

Explain why: ... oodles & oodles of deliciousness!!!

My days continue to be full and I miss spending more time around the blogosphere, but I am savoring each moment. Part of the SAVOR comes from a wise woman who has come to visit for the weekend. Yesterday's "oodles" consisted of an extended morning (er afternoon) in our pajamas with lots of conversation, giggles, a few tears, rain rain rain, a little food, snuggles with the kitty and more conversation. Decadent? Perhaps. The stuff of life worth savoring? Absolutely!

The evening ended with my January SoulCollage® workshop and 10 fabulous women in attendance. Blessings truly abound.

This morning the rain seems to have abated for awhile, so perhaps we'll ease out of our pj's a little sooner and take a walk... and talk, and giggle and probably cry a little. Ah yes, it is indeed a time to savor!

So... How was your day? (choose only one).

() getting there () outspoken () like spaghetti.


Explain why:

Becoming Rooted at Home

“Only if one is rooted at home in one’s own self…is one able to move forward, to open up new boundaries, both interior and exterior.” -- Esther De Waal

My natural progression toward adulthood focused on finding ways to “put down roots”, mainly in order to fit the mold of “grown-up” by the world’s standards. Simultaneously, I battled with myself and defiantly declared in the words of Peter Pan, “I don't wanna grow up!”

Do those battle grounds feel familiar? Are you as De Waal says “rooted at home in (your) own self”? Or have you stopped moving long enough to ask yourself the question? Perhaps you live on automatic pilot, not remembering you have choices in how you choose to live your life.

Personally, I forgot about my choices and scooted through life after firmly pushing the auto-pilot button. Life looked good and it appeared that I had roots. In effect, however, the roots were fairly shallow and began to pull loose from the weight of a heavy heart.

Somewhere along the path toward adulthood, I forgot how to play and be spontaneous. I seemed to be living someone else’s life. I had lost my way home to the heart of who I was created to be. Don’t get me wrong. Life was pretty good. Great spouse. Beautiful kids. Nice house. Plenty of food on the table. Nonetheless, I’d get the occasional twinge of longing when watching a movie or reading a great book that seemed to highlight a richness I was personally missing. There came a point where I knew something needed to change. Complacency had to be pushed aside. My own roots were begging to dig deeper.

Believe me, it was no simple fix and the journey is ongoing. However, today, as I read De Waal’s words, I know I have moved closer to “home." The movement has come through increased awareness and by pushing both interior and exterior boundaries. Throughout my ongoing process, I have discovered many keys to help unlock the complexity of who I am, and witness the treasure inside. It has become my passion to share with others who may feel what I have felt – stuck, lost, or in need of a reminder that life is meant to be lived and not merely endured.

Whether on a spiritual journey or a quest for greater peace or joy in life, it is important to find the key that fits your lock. Heightening awareness of those places where you feel stuck and the places of connection and joy is a wonderful framework for moving forward. I have found that I can only effectively communicate what I have experienced myself. Much of that is what I attempt to share in this space. Additionally, I created Serious Soul Play aka Returning Home to Yourself, a day retreat using some of the most effective tools I know. These experiential techniques include story, art, contemplative time, music, movement and play – all gently guided as you listen to the wisdom you hold for yourself.

By fostering a safe and welcoming environment, I offer this space to be as serious or as playful as your heart desires. You hold the key to your inner wisdom. Is it time for you to dust off your keys and shine them up? Are you longing for some time for yourself? Do you yearn to remember what it’s like to play?

2010 purports to be a year of abundance and going with the flow ☺. My creative juices are stirring and I’d love to share with a broader audience. For those of you around the globe, please let me know if you’d be interested in an online version of Serious Soul Play aka Returning Home to Yourself.

If local (Seattle and surrounding area), I encourage you to join me on Saturday February 6 for this unique day retreat. Register by Monday January 18 for only $75 (20%+ discount off the suggested enrollment.) To register and for further details click here.

Blessings!

photos © h3images

Ingredients of Inspiration

Recently I received a comment from a reader who was intrigued to know where I come up with my post entries. The response immediately popped into my head: Life. They come from life.

It’s like a big pot of stew that has grown from being awake to and aware of what is all around me. Adding elements from the smallest raindrop to the most profound quote, pulling from past experience and present moment. Things start to bubble and stir. There is musing and pondering until all of a sudden “pop” and the words fall onto the paper with my hand only an instrument.

It hasn’t always been this way for me. In fact, I have lived most of my life in a pretty structured and linear state. But once I started noticing all that is around me, I couldn’t seem to stop. There is always something to see or hear or experience. I could barely get through my walk the other day, because I was so mesmerized by raindrops. Teeny tiny drops. Millions. Trillions of them lined up along the evergreen branches and the naked limbs of winter. There they sat, just like stories waiting to be told. Which one will drop off the branch and onto the page?

Often times, it is in the writing that the words unfold. "I write to discover what I know." -- Flannery O'Connor. Mysteriously, by putting words onto paper, I find myself connected to something that my body and ancestral mind knows and carries, but my human brain couldn’t quite wrap around.

Being in nature, I know I am part of something greater, and everything down to the tiniest grain of sand or merest drop of water is part of the same thing. And so, instead of pushing the image away or ignoring it all together, I pause and ponder and become aware. I stir it into the pot that is uniquely me. This new ingredient changes who I was only a moment before which can be kind of scary, but I want to know the flavor of right now.

In this moment, I put these words out into the universe, knowing you perhaps will add a word or comment that I hadn’t considered and it will become something new. The ingredients come in a variety of measures. Stirring them in is daring. It's scary. It’s intriguing. It's a bottomless stew of inspiration - with enough to go around for everyone!

What are your ingredients for inspiration?

Virtual Visit Challenge

Inspired by these two posts at Journey to Authenticity and Voyage of DiscoverY, I have decided to create a challenge for You. Yes, YOU! Start the new year by breaking out of your comfort zone. Here we go:

1. Begin the challenge immediately.
2. Pick up your camera and take pictures of where you predominantly spend your time blogging. Include a forward facing, left and right side view.
3. Do NOT stop to tidy up, redecorate, make your bed or whatever you think needs to be done to impress others or sooth your Martha Stewart-ish ego.
4. Post your pictures (with a brief description if you like.)
5. Add your name to Mr. Linky below.
6. Optional: Tag five other bloggers whose space you'd love to virtually visit.



OK. I'll go first. Welcome to my home...




Please join me and invite your friends!!!

alchemy

alchemy… concerned particularly with attempts to convert base metals into gold or to find a universal elixir

Something in this new year leads me to believe I should consider myself a “base metal” or raw materials, if you prefer. Hmmm. Will I be turned into gold? Or perhaps discover a universal elixir? I wonder what it would elix? ☺

This year’s introduction to alchemy came in a reader comment from Pollinatrix as I wrestled with letting go of my 2009 word, Fire, while welcoming Water into 2010:

“In alchemy, fire mixed with water transforms to create spiritual power. In fact, the marriage of fire and water is thought to produce Air.”

Next, I ran across an ancient myth about a sun-scorched eagle dipping itself into clear water. "(The myth) hints of resurrection, but also hints of alchemy. The fire of the sun and the clear water are opposite elements brought into harmony in a manner that elicits change.”*

There have also been other ‘hints’ that this will be a year of alchemy including the elements of fire and water. In honor of the theme, I created the shown SoulCollage® card to help ponder this marriage. I've also decided it might be time for a re-read of Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist.

I don’t know about you, but signs are popping up everywhere in regard to my word for the year. Today, I add alchemy as a secondary word to ponder for awhile. If you haven’t chosen a word yet, I highly recommend it. It’s a fascinating way to explore new horizons!!

*quote from Animal Speak

Letting Go - Ritual

Ritual Saturday. A walk to the beach to celebrate letting go of vestiges of 2009, and to unite fire and water. My heart says to let go with fire (not of it), knowing that fire and water will both work to purify me in the coming year.

I begin today’s journey at the top of 300 stairs. Each step down a reminder to let go, until I finally reach the beach. It is windy and cold – not quite deserted. My first moments, I find sea glass – a rarity on this stretch of sand.

A small sailboat races across the Sound. “You are the boat. Life is the sea.” The sails are at full tilt. Shall I move head first into the year? A giant piece of ancient roots sits like a sentinel in the sand. It is the focus of my attention – grounded and solid.

Continuing down the beach, I seek a fire pit to burn my list of good-bye’s. I know my matches will not take hold in this mighty wind. My lone fire will not be enough. How can I burn my list? I need fire to let go. Spying a family gathered around a flame, I understand I can ask for help. I don’t have to do everything alone. Fire is meant to be shared. Someone else can help warm me.

“May I feed your fire?”

“Of course,” they respond. And so I drop my list of good-byes into the pit. It doesn’t light at first. I feel silly for a moment – old judgments stir inside my gut. The man tells me it is an “inherited” fire, left by someone who came to burn a Christmas tree. The flame is being passed. My list crinkles at the edges, bursts into flame and then it is gone – just like that. I thank them. They thank me and I realize how deeply we have shared without full explanation or many words at all.

As I walk away, there is a tugging in my heart. Did I expect to feel lighter? I have let go and now I feel a little shaky and not sure what to do next. So, I head back toward the stairs, but first I must pass through the tunnel under the railroad tracks – retracing my steps. My shakiness dissipates as I witness what is before me in mosaic-form– fire and water together. It is a sign to me that I don’t have to give up one to receive the other. I can have them both.

But, just in case my thick head won’t remember and forgets too quickly, there is another gift on the wall. “May your soul always be on fire.” I am overwhelmed by the welcoming of the Universe – God surrounding me. I am the boat and life is the sea. We are in this together.

One foot in front of the other, I begin the climb back up the steps. Step. Receive. Breathe. Step. Receive. Breathe. Upward and onward into the year. Fire inside. Moist air surrounding. Solid ground beneath my feet.

all photos taken Saturday, January 2, 2010 © lucy

Ritual

It has been said (and confirmed) that I have a knack and need for ritualization. Breaking dawn is often my time for ritual. The lighting of symbolic candles. Gentle music. Settling into a cozy corner on my daybed. Setting aside time. Greeting God. Saying, 'I am here'.

My mind wanders, but the blank page and fountain pen call me back. Books to my left. Coffee to my right. Quilt over legs and cushy pillows behind my back. Surrounded by the lilting sounds of chanting monks.It is dark and quiet inside my own little womb created here.

In the womb, we are surrounded by water. It is the air we breathe while attached to our mother. In my womb, I am attached to God. Present. We are one. For brief moments, there is no separation. I swim in the amniotic fluid that is life. No separation - like a fish in the ocean.

“You are the boat. Life is the sea,”.* We are not separate. My earthen boat of humanity is held by the sea. Surrounded. Air above. Water below. Fire within.

Where (or does) ritual manifest in your life? Also, has your word for the year found you yet?

*quoted in The Book of Awakening.

'setting sail' © lucy - taken @ shilshole bay, january 2, 2010

January SoulCollage®

New Beginnings, New Blooms

Please join me on Friday, January 15, 2010 from 6:30 - 9:30 p.m. to celebrate the arrival of the New Year and the possibilities that lie ahead by making your own SoulCollage® cards.

Beginners and experienced collagers are welcome at this three-hour studio. All supplies and instruction will be provided in a relaxed and fun atmosphere.

Workshop held at Soma Yoga in Crown Hill, Seattle, WA. Pre-registration cost is $35. ($40 - night of the event.) Space is limited, so register today.

For questions or to sign up, leave me a comment. Please pass this information along to anyone who might be interested!

You can visit the official SoulCollage® website here

SoulCollage® is the process, developed by Seena B. Frost, of creating a deck of collaged cards from found images for the primary purpose of self-exploration and self-acceptance.

I asked for a single word. I got a whole theme.

“…there are those who convert the body into a luminous fluidity, surrendering it to the inspiration of the soul.” –Isador Duncan *

A few years ago, I began the practice of choosing a word for the new year – one to focus on that seems to capture the essence of me at this particular point in time.

It’s really a misnomer to say that I “choose” the word, because in reality, each time, the word has come to find me. This year has been no different as the word started noticeably washing over me during my pilgrimage to Ireland.

As 2009 headed to a close, the hints became more prevalent. I was noticing quotes* in doctor’s offices and strangers were recommending books for me to read. In my observant style, I wrote down the quotes, listened to the signs and bought the books. I played with the words in my mind, but THE word did not seem to want to show itself. Finally, the theme became crystal clear as I read this post on making espresso. Was I "strong enough to stand up to the pressure, but resilient enough to let the water pass through evenly"? I knew I could resist no more. And still, I resisted.

You see, I loved my word for last year: FIRE! It was indeed a year of burning flames, hearts bursting open and projects ablaze. I’m still reveling in my acquaintance with St. Brigid of Kildare who I encountered while in Ireland. She is most often shown with flame in hand and is known for her hospitality and celebrating the ordinary. She is a woman on fire.

So, with all of these flames and fire, I was a bit chagrined to learn that my theme for this year is… WATER. Nothing like a burst of H2O to put a damper on a good flame, huh? Now, don’t get me wrong, I am already embracing this new theme…slowly. However, it feels important to share my own resistance in letting go of the heat of 2009.

Appropriately, it has been a very wet day here as the calendar turns to 2010. It is a new decade and instead of a word, I have a full-blown theme. (I have also considered whether or not I may be working my way through the elements.) Regardless, WATER (with all of it's fluidity & flow) ought to keep me busy for awhile!


So, there it is. I have officially passed from the element of fire into the new year of WATER. Do you feel called to take on a similar practice of asking for a word? Abbey of the Arts gives a beautiful history of the origin and her own word of the year (along with a great giveaway.) Become Inspired with Kate Iredale as she shares her own word. I’m certain there are more around the internet and I look forward to nurturing each other as we embrace who we are to be in this coming year! So, what's your word?

A Letter to Mary

Today is not only the beginning of the New Year, a new decade even, but also the feast day of St. Mary, Mother of Jesus. Mary has been with me more than ever through this holiday season and several times I have attempted to write a post in her honor – really in honor of all mothers. So, it only seems fitting that today before I step fully into 2010, announce my word for the year, or recap 2009, Mary deserves her day.

How fitting that a mother would have to share her feast day with one of the most unavoidable holidays of the year. Whether we want to acknowledge it or not, we have entered a new year and it affects us all in one way or another. So by sharing this day, Mary has most often gone unnoticed, as mothers are prone to do.

“But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.” Luke 2:19

Mary was a ponderer. (I love that!) She bore the Son. She bore God. She bore MUCH! How much must I as a mother be called to bear? My own mother used to say, “There is nothing that can compare with the love a mother has for her child.” The range of emotions is huge and even if we aren’t mothers, we all had one! And, so I write to this ancient mother for my own peace of mind.

Dear Mary -

What was it like to be the mother of a perfect child? Were you without worry? I think not. Both you and he were human, after all. How did you hold up, Mary? How did you bear all that God gave you? Your “yes” was only the beginning. Your years had to be excruciating. Consider the weirdness following his birth – all those strangers showing up with extravagant gifts while you hung out in a dirty stable. The flight to Egypt as Herod threatened to kill your only son.

And those middle years – what happened then? Was Jesus ever rowdy as a boy? Was he arrogant as a teenager? Your mother’s worry had to be huge. Did you hover and overfeed him? Did you try to encourage him to eat his vegetables and study his Hebrew? Did you tell him to be careful when he went out at night? Even your mother’s love was not enough to save his life. You had to stand by and watch him be crucified to death. How did you handle that? How helpless you must have felt!

Mary, you have been with me this season. I am grateful for your presence. You offer me hope and I will carry you with me into this New Year.


Today’s Advent reading ends with … “this was the Mary whose soul was pierced by a sword.”

No matter who your kid is, being a mother is a really tough job – one that pierces in more ways anyone can imagine. Today I honor Mary and all the mothers of the world – Saints or not ☺. Won't you join me?

For another wonderful view of Mary, pop on over to the Mind Sieve.

photo © lucy - paris, 2008