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

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

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

Blessed by Risk...

...a response to yesterday's post.

“It is not so much our friends’ help that helps us as the confident knowledge that they will help us.” --Epicurus

Words like Thank You, Yes, and Sally Fields’ academy award speech from years ago, “You really do like me,” ring through my head. I am wrapped in the warm words of others. We mirror each other and I hear myself in both the encouragement and the resistance. Your words are mine - “I read, but don’t always comment.” The overflowing sentiment (from you and for you) - I am here when you need me.

It has taken me a long time to learn to ask for what I want or need. For me, it can be a paradoxical situation. If I have to ASK, does it lessen the gift when I receive? The challenging thing is that when I get scared or lonely or angry, I can get pretty prickly AND by that point, I don't know how to ask - so I push. Thus, the initial response is for others to back away when what I really need is for someone to move in closer. I need a cocoon to hold me. I need to cry and weep and wail.

The other day I was so beside myself, it was pretty ugly and instead of backing away – my dear sweet husband leaned in. He wrapped me in a giant bear hug and held on. I cried – we cried – wracking, gut-wrenching, snot-slinging, unabashed tears. I pushed away ...surrendered ...and then cried some more. Somewhere inside my little soul, I was confident he was there to help me. And you know what? When I finally came up for air – I laughed. Yes, laughed! I felt lighter, better, more complete and real.

A similar thing happened yesterday as soon as I wrote the words “Would it make a difference if you knew I was sad”? Something deep inside me KNEW you would show up. And you came – lots of you – some I had no idea ever visited here! You offered much and it didn’t even matter what you said (although I loved every word). My heart lifted when the first comment showed up in my inbox… Really, I think my heart began to shift when I took the risk to ask. It was the sheer act (yes, sheer, as in transparent) of risking the ASK – risking to be real – even though I couldn’t definitively predict what might happen.

My heart overflows with gratitude and I want to sit here for hours basking in your wisdom. It’s hard – very hard, but I am going to push away the desire to spend the day at the computer responding to everyone's wonderful posts. I need to move and stretch and maybe go dance in the rain. Perhaps it’s a risk and you will see me as selfish – I certainly hope not. I have been, and continue to be, blessed by your words and presence. SO...I offer this in return:

May your day be blessed with risk,
May your fears be answered with companions,
May you know that you are loved, and
Experience the inseparable wonder of both grief and joy.

Peace to you, my friends.

"fashion risks" - dublin 2009 © lucy

If you knew I was sad, would it make a difference?

Life upon return from Ireland hit hard and fast. I find myself rising and falling like the rhythms of the ocean. Sometimes the waves are gentle and I float as though on a blowup mattress in the middle of a still Oklahoma lake. Other times, I feel as though I have been slammed by a giant Tsunami – shaking myself off and gasping for air from the force of the hit.

I have been lonely here at Diamonds. Not sure if my readership is down, if my topics are not engaging or if people are just plain busy – or maybe I sound so content you don't realize I crave your company and comments. So, I ponder the question in the post title… If you knew I was sad, would it make a difference? Would you make a little more effort to comment if you knew I needed it? Would you stop and speak to a co-worker or a child or a stranger if you thought your comfort would make a difference? I wonder how often I settle for the pat answer when someone responds with a standard, “I’m fine?”

I wonder about people’s interior journeys (those who confide in me and others I pass on the streets), realizing I can only know a fraction of their stories – if that much. We are complex beings and have a capacity to present many faces to the world. Does showing joy when grief lurks inside (or vice versa) discount either emotion? I ask, because, the waves that follow me these days are somewhat confusing. I feel both the gentle rocking of comfort as well as the motion sickness of constant movement. I find it near impossible to answer the question, “How are you?” for the water that washes my spirit clean and gently holds the raft upon which I float is the same element that threatens to drown me and take away my breath. The two cannot be separated for they flow in and out of each other like waves moving against the shore – both gentle and wild. Hmmmm.Anybody else ever feel confused by two seemingly contradictory emotions that flow in and out simultaneously? Reminds me of the old lyric “hurts so good”…or maybe not. I’d love to hear your thoughts (but a simple hello works, too).

ireland brook ©2009
dublin river ©2009