Start your own Drum Circle

The sound of drums calls through the crystal blue sky. Beckoning. Singing. Saying, “Come play with us. All are welcome here.” The message is clear. “Find a perch on the grassy knoll, soak up some sunshine and live your own rhythm. Welcome to the World Rhythm Festival. Welcome to life.”

Saturday was my first experience in a community drum circle, but not my first in finding my personal rhythm. If you’ve never participated in a drum circle, it’s quite an experience. From out of the silence, a lone drummer begins. Soon another joins in, percussion instruments follow and, if you’re lucky, a bass carries the heartbeat. It’s a magical experience as multifarious people of assorted talent levels come together to create music. Dancers step into the mix and uniquely sway to the emerging beats. All elements are essential to creating this life-engaging experience.

One dancer swayed on the outer perimeter of the circle and I wondered why he steered clear of the middle and whether he longed to be center stage. Later as we had a brief conversation, I realized his perfect rhythm was to be exactly where he was – nothing more or less. Many of us don’t listen that well. If everyone isn’t doing it (whatever “it” is), we draw back because it might not be acceptable. We choose to listen to everyone else’s rhythm and find ourselves out of sync, and thus missing out on our unique part of life's harmony.

My part in Saturday’s experience was to sit on the knoll and play my djembe. I didn’t need to be the one to start or stop the circle. My role this day was harmony, and in that I was perfectly content. I was grateful for those who brilliantly began each round of music and less appreciative of those who exerted an odd power to bring the circle to an unnatural close. In practicing our personal rhythms, it’s important to know when we must follow the beat of our own drum and when it feels best to play harmony. There’s magic in listening to the pulse and finding the simpatico places both within and without.

Take a moment and imagine leaning into your own grassy knoll and soaking up the sunshine of your personal rhythm. What instrument would you play? What role would be yours? Where would you dance in the circle? What beat will you choose to follow?

World Rhythm Festival 2011 © lucy
My djembe & my friend, Carole © lucy 2011

Lenten Pilgrimage

Somehow the season of Lent allows me to sink more deeply into listening, waiting and letting go. Delightful themes and synchronistic opportunities have presented themselves abundantly and the journey has barely begun. As I mentioned in my last post, I had the beautiful opportunity of physically going on pilgrimage to the desert last fall. In conjunction with that trip, my fabulous guide invited me to write a short article for an upcoming website. It was indeed a delight when Christine @ Abbey of the Arts then invited the Lenten pilgrims to answer this question:

How have great pilgrimages and journeys brought you to a new insight about your daily life?

Today, I am pleased to share the words I had already penned for my Sapira friend.

Pilgrimage calls us to find that which is essential. We learn through preparation and packing for the journey. Along the way, we explore what nourishes us through feast of eyes, body and soul. Necessity changes shape as normal routines drift away. Paring down and moving toward simplicity, a sense timelessness envelops those who dare to step into the unknown.

Having participated in three intentional journeys (two of them with Sapira), I have come to know more of myself, and the world as a whole, through these travels. To fully enter a pilgrimage is to take off your shoes and stand on Holy ground. My toes have curled in the chilling loam of Ireland and danced across the swirling sands of the Sinai. My heart has opened by stepping into the gentle rhythms of the pilgrim’s clock. Pilgrimage is like walking an ancient labyrinth – each step intentional with no straight pathway – moving toward center and then returning back into the world with heart and soul forever changed.

My blessings envelop each of you who stops by this place. My hope is you will move more deeply toward your own center during this Lenten season and return back into the world with your heart and soul forever changed.

Peace.

Desert Blooms

In October of 2010, I had the amazing privilege of journeying to the Sinai of Egypt. During this season of Lent, I am being called to return to the desert - this time in my thoughts and prayer life. There is a barrenness in the desert landscape that is in sharp contrast to the life I experience at home in the Pacific Northwest. We are surrounded by buckets of rain and lush foliage bursting with color. It can be a challenging shift between the landscapes and I am grateful to have the wisdom of the desert fathers and mothers to guide me. This morning as I pondered Christine's words of blossoming and desolation, I couldn't help but remember my camel ride through the Sinai.

My perfect mentor showed up in the form of a majestic and sultry camel named Bella. She would be my wisdom guide for that day, and she lingers with me now as I rest over 6,000 miles around the globe. Bella was truly a desert queen and knew exactly how to find blossoms in the desert. She bloomed by following her own rhythm, and in these things we have much in common. Oh my, I love that camel. We started our day with a Bedouin boy holding the ropes. Slowly slowly we built trust until ultimately I received the reins. Nonetheless it was Bella who led.

This glorious creature had an uncanny way of spotting the smallest shade of green hundreds of feet ahead. She would subtly pull away from the crowd and with precision-like focus make her way to the nourishing Acacia bush. After dining, Bella and I would take our time wandering and pondering through the dry land. At times we moved slowly and walked along the edges of our tribe. Sometimes the pace was brisk and we bumped up alongside other pilgrims. When spying the blossoms before us, we pulled away from the herd to reach our destination.

As I remember Bella and write these words, it becomes clear this will be my Lenten journey - a season woven with times of rest, nourishment and activity. I must make time for my own rhythm and meditate in my cell as I surrender to the voices of Sabbath. Community will be important, for there I am called to laugh and love. The discipline of the practice offers me restoration and rejuvenation.

Like Bella and I in the desert, we don't have a map and cannot be certain what lies ahead. There is barrenness and desolation along the way, and nourishment blossoms in the most unexpected places. Welcome to the desert. I am grateful to be here. How about you?

More Anne Lamott...

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

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

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

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

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

comfy couch by lucy

Clear Your Windshield

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

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

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