Fierce Warrior

“How are you called to be fierce in your commitment to…?” (This question posed by Abbey of the Arts Lenten Retreat)

I am a fierce warrior. This I know to be true. Nonetheless, I have a hard time understanding how other people see me because of conflicting messages. Shy – the label of my childhood. Bitch – the critical murmurs that followed me as I learned to stand up for myself and set appropriate boundaries. Peaceful. Contemplative. Mean. Brilliant. Crazy.

There have been times in life when making a controversial decision has taken all the strength and courage I could muster. It was terrifying and it was absolutely the right thing to do. To walk away from someone or something you love is the hardest thing in the world. Agonizing. Painful. True. Even harder is to step back in when your heart’s been broken. Rewards beyond our wildest imagination beckon us forward. Risk of rejection looms with infinite magnitude.

We reject ourselves all the time out of fear. I can’t do that… I could never… When we hear those words coming out of our mouths – beware! Especially when they sound like: My child would never.. I’ll never allow… This is just the way life is… Absolutes get us into trouble most of the time. Words like: I can’t or I won’t are rigid and stifle our growth and creative movement. They also push us away from what we are authentically called to do and be. They leave us passive and without choice or responsibility.

I daily choose to step into the places that scare me. I’m not frozen with fear to do the hard or unpopular things especially if it will benefit another’s growth (or my own). There is a Hindu mudra called Abhaya. It is a gesture asserting power and giving peace at the same time. The Buddah is said to have quelled a rampaging elephant with this simple gesture. In it I see both compassion and fight. So, as I fill-in-the-blank to the above question, my answer becomes Compassion. I am called to be fierce in my commitment to compassion for myself and the world. Finding compassion in the fight, and fight in the compassion. Yes, I am a fierce warrior.

And you? Where are you called to be fierce in your commitment?

(btw-this post is my scary thing today...)

Drafty Window - Part 2

"Someone touched me; I know that power has gone out from me." - Luke 8:46

In my last post, I wrote about my drafty window and today the conversation continues. As I ponder the warm air seeping out my window, I'm reminded of Jesus' story when he felt his power leave him as the woman in need of healing touched his garment. He said, "Someone has touched me." Is this how I feel as I'm aware of others' pain? Does compassionate power flow out to meet others' needs? Do I offer it willingly or is it sucked out unknowingly? Is warm air drawn out with the draft or does cold air come pouring through the window? How does another's hurt blow through the crack in my heart?

Compassionate hearts are at risk of being drained of their own life. Sacrificial giving can end in death. So, today I ponder the balance between offering myself in service of others and protecting my warmth and health enough to have something left to give. It's like the leaky window. Do I want to plug the cracks so the cold can't get in? If I do, does this mean my warmth will no longer flow out?

Drafty Window

"Other people's pain is the wind on our house(s)." -- Betsy Pearson

The favorite room in my home is my studio and office. It is painted a brilliant color that brightens my day every time I see it. The walls are adorned with art and artifacts I've intentionally collected and each piece holds significant meaning. My studio is a place I can get messy, play and also work very hard. It's a place of comfort and rest, so it's ironic that it also encompasses one of my least favorite things - a drafty window.

Pondering this window with a friend, it came to represent a powerful metaphor in my life. The window has its special qualities which make it hard to replace. It folds gently in the middle thus allowing fresh air to pour in during the warm months while also buffering the wind which can be too chilly in this Northwest climate. There is a certain amount of protection and control from the climate. In the winter, however, the North wind blows stridently and seeps through the broken seals. Even as I wrap myself in cozy quilts, the air is chilled and impacts my warm heart. It's like the whole world is coming in through the cracks and there isn't enough heat to warm us all. It is the blessing and curse of having a heart broken wide open. There is a crack in everything that's how the pain gets in. Sometimes there is enough warmth and compassion. Other times the draft chills me to the bone.

• Step outside and feel the air on your skin
• Imagine each breath of air contains someone's pain and another's joy
• Breathe deeply and experience the connection with the whole world
• With your out-breath, send a warm blanket of love, joy and compassion into the Universe