Bold Living Today

Happy Friday the 13th!! It's been a gorgeous few days here in Seattle and I'm excited to wrap up the week with this tidbit of exciting news. Each Friday, a person who is making bold moves, living well, nurturing their creativity, following their passions, and making magic is featured on Bold Living Today. It is with great joy and gratitude that I announce today's featured guest... Can you guess? C'est moi!! (Need I translate?)

Bold Living Today creator and passionate living person, Kanesha Baynard has this to say:

Today's interview is with Kayce Stevens Hughlett. She is an author, speaker, life coach, soul nurturer - and someone I admire deeply. (Right back at ya, 'Nesh!) Kayce has the kind of energy and spunk that makes you want to fly and create something stunning - while skipping along eating your ice cream cone. Yes, she's that amazing. (Wow! It's awesome to receive this kind of love any day... Who says Friday the 13th is bad luck?)

Without further adieu, I invite you to pop on over and check out the interview. I had so much fun doing it and hope you'll enjoy reading it, too! Click here!!

Hmmmm.... It may be time for skipping and ice cream! Care to join me? ☺

Bedouin Empress

My posts have been long and filled with my journey to Egypt. I’m finding it nearly impossible to drift away from that place for very long – nor do I want to move away from it. As you might imagine, many things were stirred in me and it is in the “unpacking” that I find even more depth.

Recently, my group work has revolved around the archetypal energy of the empress and/or sovereign. There has been much conversation and exploration about what it means to embrace one’s inner sovereign. A question that seems to arise time and again in a “First World Country” (if I even know what that means) is the idea of how easy it is to claim sovereignty, power, health, privilege, etc. when these things surround us in abundance. What would happen if I were poor? Could I still embrace a sense of wealth?

Last week, when talking about the Empress and these questions were posed, one “Empress” became fully present in my mind. It wasn’t Queen Elizabeth or Michelle O’Bama or Melinda Gates, but rather a Bedouin woman I met in Egypt. By most standards this woman would be considered poor and living in poverty. But I had to ask myself the question, does she think she’s poor?

I encountered her as we were leaving the desert and dropping our Bedouin cook off at his home. The jeep I was in arrived later than the rest and we were asked not to disembark due to time constraints. The pull to leap from the car and mingle with the children, goats and others was strong and only our guide’s firm request to stay put kept us all in the car. However, in the brief moments we waited, this woman – indefinable in age 50? 80? 100? - approached our vehicle and reached her hand out to each one of us. Language was unnecessary as she took my palm in hers and offered me the gift of her eyes. This woman is an Empress – one who stands solidly in who she is, invites others into her realm and does not know the meaning of scarcity. She is sovereign over her world and makes sure that those within her kingdom are welcomed.

She has given me much pause to consider what my own inner Sovereign looks like and what she values. Is it jewels and extravagance? Even that is hard to ask, because my definition of those two things is shifting. The jewels I value most right now are a few stones, a fossil and a piece of coral. Extravagance is resting under a billion stars with only a sleeping bag to shelter my body. And my Empress? Well… her sovereignty lies in a castle that looks quite different from the fairy tales.

Ponder alongside me, won’t you… Where does your Sovereign reside? What are the jewels that wrap your Empress or Emperor? How do you define wealth?

photos ©lucy
bedouin girls
empress lucy & her noble, bella
bedouin palace

mother's day - aaarrrghh!

"Nothing else will make you as happy or as sad, as proud or as tired, for nothing is quite as hard as helping a person develop his own individuality especially while you struggle to keep your own."

--Marguerite Kelly and Elia Parsons, The Mothers Almanac

what can i write for a blog post today? words don't feel especially pretty here. i hate mother's day - a strong sentiment, i know. And lest, anyone think I'm totally cold-hearted, I wish all of you mother's out there a joyous day. i especially send my condolences to those who grieve because they aren't mothers (i know this day is hard for you, and it's yet another reason for my disdain of the 2nd sunday in may.)

mothers... what can i say? mothers love. mothers die. they hurt. they mess up and they do the best they can. they are loving, hateful, compassionate and cruel. they are the most important thing in the world to us, and we discount what they have to say because "they're just our mothers."

today is a gorgeous day outside. my husband has already brought me coffee in bed and breakfast is on the way. my son sent and created the beautiful card you see here, complete with an original poem. my daughter is still sleeping soundly (which is what a 17 year old girl should be doing on sunday morning). i have lovely plans for the day - some just for me and others spent with my family.

i have already shed tears for the loss of my mother who died 6 years ago today on mother's day. i have been angry at her and myself. i have grieved for friends who i know also struggle with this day, and i have rejoiced with those who relish what it means to be a mom. before 8:00 a.m. i have felt a full range of emotions including laughter, tears, anger and grief.

And... i believe that's what being alive is all about - it's about feeling our feelings. i recognized quickly this morning the pull between the radiant sunshine and warmth that greeted me outside and the tug inside my body that screams "I hate this day." it isn't one or the other. it's both, and the more clearly i can name it, the more i can be present to this day - or any other. so regardless of your mother-status or gender, i send you warm wishes on this sacred sunday.

may you feel your feelings fully and celebrate the beauty of who YOU are!!!

Easter Reflections

Saturday – For now we wait – in this place between death and redemption – dark and light. A mother sitting at the foot of the cross watching her son die. Others stand with her AND she can only stand alone. No one can know the heartbreak of her own cross – her flesh and blood pouring from the wounds.

Today, the day in between, we wait. Have we not always waited? Death & resurrection. Birth & new life. How did we get here? Sitting at the cross. Moving east toward sunrise . East toward the tomb.

For what do I wait? The already and the not yet. Jesus’ way. His life is my life. Buried and crucified. Killed for loving. Was it worth it? Yes – every moment. I could not be here if I hadn’t gone there. And now we wait.

“The tomb becomes a womb today.” Richard Rohr

Sunday – Sitting in last night's Easter vigil, I was not ready for the lights to come on. The darkness comforting – holding – peaceful & womblike. No resurrection – yet. No bright lights. No breaking the silence with a rousing Alleluia.

“Love is not a victory march. It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah.”
-- Leonard Cohen

Today, I sit with you, Lord, knowing you are risen. Knowing it’s not about the grave or the cross or even death itself. It’s about now. You are here with me in this quiet moment. Risen. Yes.

I am happy to have sat in the dark of last night’s vigil. Today the light feels harsh. The celebration of bonnets and bunnies is too much. Instead, I sit in my jeans and t-shirt waiting to go to the Washington State Penitentiary to see my own flesh and blood.

We are rising. Already and not yet. We will go and sit and keep our own vigil on this day of resurrection. And in my heart, I will sing a broken Hallelujah – remembering the beauty in brokenness - waiting - and Love.

photo © h3images

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