vines, threes & serendipity???

It is gray this morning. I was expecting sunshine and it has not decided to arrive quite yet. There is a post bubbling around in my brain about roots and vines, but instead of letting the words flow out of my pen, I myself have remained rooted here in my cozy bed.

I sit here pondering about the serendipity of life. Is it God’s plan? Is it random energy or merely coincidence? Or is it something I make up in my brain to make sense out of things that otherwise might make no sense at all?

I wonder about the power of three’s and even where that idea even began. And lest you think I am on a total ramble, it is indeed the occurrence of three, serendipitous appearances of roots and vines that I am pondering. I hesitate in the writing, because words are not clearly forming yet the images stand bold in my mind and beg to be placed on paper and so I choose to give it a go.

Recently while having coffee with a dear friend, she began to relay an experience of her own. My friend has been experiencing a sense of flightiness and floating away and these senses have caused her some anxiety. In her story, she was seeking counsel and her adviser asked her to try and imagine herself as rooted to the ground with strong vines holding her in place. She has been curious about the imagery that was offered and was thus sharing it with me for my thoughts. While she spoke I tried to contain myself and continue to listen closely to her story. I myself was getting excited, because my heart did a little jump when she shared the imagery of the vines.

Why the ‘heart jump’? Well, just a few days earlier I was participating in an exercise called dynamic meditation where the goal is to exhaust the body and active thoughts so as to clear space to listen. (When I ‘clear space to listen’, it is my goal and hope to listen to God and I have found that God does indeed meet me in those spaces quite often.) Part of the exercise had us in an immobile state for 15 minutes. I must say it was quite painful physically and all my brain could do was attempt to figure out how much longer this would last and did not feel clear of thought at all!! ☺ However, when the music changed and we were given the opportunity to once again move, I found that my feet were planted to the ground. I could not move and actually had no desire to do the very thing I had been focusing on for the last 15 minutes.

As I stood there, a vision came into my mind of vines coming out of the ground and wrapping themselves around my right leg. They were beautiful like ivy and felt more akin to security than something binding or frightening. I stood there for a few moments and allowed myself to let the imagery sink in and then I physically reached down and gently unwound the vines so that I could move my legs and participate in the next part of the exercise. It was really a powerful experience on its own, and then to have my friend share virtually the same visual before hearing about my own was truly amazing. She and I both vowed to consider more what the imagery means for each of us.

The third instance came when I impulsively picked up (& bought) a book (Dare to Journey with Henri Nouwen) on my way out of the bookstore yesterday. Here is an excerpt from the first reflection:

“So we try to do more while our energies ebb away and we become like uprooted trees with our roots wildly groping for the sky. Thus we anxiously throw our arms toward heaven, praying for extra grace and special enabling, when instead we should be planted again in nourishing soil. That soil is not meant to make us do less, but to change our priorities so that we take time to be still. And in the stillness, find new strength and hope.” --Charles Ringma

So, there you have it. My little story of vines, threes and serendipity. I am still pondering what to make of it, but I must say the grounding feels quite nice. As always, thoughts and comments are welcomed. Peace. ☺

i stopped dreaming when...

How would you complete the statement: I stopped dreaming when… Have you ever considered that? Considered even what your dreams are? Or do you live in a closed off or fearful place where dreaming seems frivolous and unproductive? Do you perhaps consider that if you were to share your dreams with another that they might be met with ridicule and thus the dreams snatched out of your realm or buried deeper inside your psyche?

“I stopped dreaming when…” is part of an exercise I have participated in dozens of times. The goal is to just let the words flow and find their rhythm until you stop thinking about what you are saying. For many sessions the things that popped out of my mouth were based on childhood experiences that gradually moved upward through my adult years. And then several months ago, I was demonstrating this process and out popped “I stopped dreaming when I couldn’t dance.”

These words came out with a ferocity that surprised both the partner with whom I was working and especially me (probably me more so, because I had no clue from where they came.) Today, I started to write “while I have always enjoyed dancing” and then realized that is not really true. I thought I wanted to tap dance when I was about 5, but I think that was more a product of my mother’s urging. I did, however, really love the shiny black shoes with the wonderful clicking heels. I quickly decided though that I much preferred staying home to watch “The Three Stooges” and “Tarzan” on television over the discipline and embarrassment it took to learn the complicated steps in dance class.

I also grew up in the age where social dancing consisted of sock hops at which couples bobbed up and down to the beat of the music individually or else draped their arms around each other when the rhythm slowed enough to warrant closer contact. A neighborhood friend had aspirations to be a ballerina and occasionally worked with me to learn the five positions of her classical dance. I was never too sad when I couldn’t do them perfectly and definitely did not long for more time at the barre.

In middle school I made an embarrassing attempt to learn how to move and do a flip so I could try out for cheerleader. The results were near humiliating and I opted for cheering in the pep club instead of gyrating on the sidelines. Growing older I talked my first husband into a couple of “hustle” lessons, and later, my second into an evening of ballroom classes with other friends. Each time there was no lasting commitment and no lingering loss after the lessons stopped. I do, however, love a really great (and sometimes not so great) dance movie. My heart always sings when I watch the likes of “Dirty Dancing,” “Strictly Ballroom” or “Shall We Dance?”

All of this to say, I do not really consider the actual act of dancing to be what I was referring to in my exercise outburst. It feels bigger than dancing to me. It feels representative of something deep in my soul. It feels like a rhythm lost or possibly a dream or a gigantic culmination of loss. It feels like a loss that is sometimes too big for words. Even this writing feels really big for these pages. It does not feel despairing, but more like a mystery to be considered. It seems like much more to be explored which is exactly what I plan to do. In the meantime, however, I would love to know how you would finish this statement: I stopped dreaming when…

collage by lucy

mystery on the mountain

Where to begin? I feel like I am a player in a 21st century God-directed version of The Birds. It’s not nearly as scary, however, but it feels like if I don’t listen carefully, I may be covered in blue jays cackling and laughing at me for not paying attention.

Perhaps I should back up just a bit. A post for me these days would not be complete without the mention of dreams. Let me add to that the topic of waiting. Or maybe it is more like Pamela spoke of in her comment on beginnings and endings, it is more aptly a time of transition. Yes, I think that’s where I am. A time of transition. In between dreams. Waiting to see what manifests while trying to be present to the world around me.

So, where do the birds come in? Well, last week I was driving along the rode and I looked to the side and saw one distinct blue jay. Beautiful. He seemed a bit out of place, because I don’t recall seeing many (any?) blue jays around here. A day or two later…same thing. Different road, same thing: A single blue jay placed herself distinctly next to my stopped car. Coincidence? Perhaps. But, here is where the Alfred Hitchcock thing really starts to happen…Yesterday, I was at Mount Rainier with friends. As we were going to our car after lunch, there was another amazing blue jay. And then another and another and another until they nearly surrounded us. It was incredible!!

Third time's the charm, right? I finally began to wonder, “What’s the deal with blue jays?” One of my friends said that they represent either dabblers or masters. Hmmmm. So, this morning I popped open Animal Speak and looked them up. Here is what it said, “Those with a jay as a totem usually have a tremendous amount of ability, but it can be scattered or it is often not developed any more than is necessary to get by...The blue jay reflects that a time of greater resourcefulness and adaptability is about to unfold. If the jay has flown into your life, it indicates that you are moving into a time where you can begin to develop the innate royalty that is within you, or simply be a pretender to the throne.”

What did I hear? It’s time to focus. Listen. Wait. Be still and know that I am God. Be direct in what you choose to do and stop being scattered. Listen. Wait. Focus. Whew! I think I’ll stop for now and let that soak in!

So, if I didn’t lose you in all that talk of Alfred Hitchcock and congregating birds, I would love to know what’s stirring in you. Do you feel scattered or focused? What does it mean to wait? To listen? To be still in God's presence? To follow your dreams?

(I have a few more thoughts about where this message is leading me particularly in relation to my dreams, but I think I’ll wait and listen for now.) Stay tuned…☺

lucy's photos from mount rainier 5.01.08

beginnings and endings

Anyone who has been reading here recently will know that dreams have been very present in my mind these last several days. Dreams to me represent a kind of beginning. A change of the wind. A longing of the heart. And so it seems a bit ironic to me that in this time of new beginnings and wondering what comes next, I have found myself in the midst of endings. As I ponder more, however, I realize it is not so ironic after all, because in order for something new to begin something else may need to end.

I have spent the last two weeks ending with students who I have watched transform over the past eight months. They came in as caterpillars, wrapped themselves tightly into cocoons and now I have the honor and joy of watching them spread their wings and fly away. It has been harder for me this year than last, because I now know from experience that many of them I may never see again. And so even with the best intentions of “I’ll see you around” or “We’ll get together for coffee,” I know that we are ending.

So, how do I sit with that? Knowing we have done good work together and we cannot help but be changed because of our time together AND we may never find ourselves face to face ever again. Longing. Sadness. Congratulations. Well-done & wanting more. Can it be enough?

In addition to students, there were also good-byes with colleagues who I have come to love deeply. The beautiful part is that we marked these endings with remembering, laughter, tears and holy communion. This feels so different from other relationships that have simply drifted away.

And so I sit this morning filled with possibility for future dreams as the season changes AND also a longing for the things and relationships that have come to an end. Dreams. Beginnings. Good-byes. Endings. Will I dream well today? Will I allow space for longing? Will you? What do you think of beginnings and endings? I invite you to come keep me company today, I have a feeling I may need a little help letting go ☺ .

lucy's photos from puerta vallarta

spreading wings

I love the beautiful "randomness" of the world; the universe. Having written and thought about dreams over the last several days, I was not at all surprised to see this "random" computer-generated thought appear in my inbox today:

"It may be those who do most, dream most." --Stephen Leacock

So what of dreaming and following our heart's desire? Do those who dream more do more? Or do they simply enjoy more of what they do? This all reminds me of another favorite quote of mine by Howard Thurman. Some of you might recognize it:

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

In my last post, I used the word "calling" in association with returning to graduate school to pursue a degree in counseling psychology. Having been a traditionalist, a conformist, whatever you want to call it, most of my life, I was used to functioning by practicalities like, Get a degree that is marketable. (I chose accounting.) Believe in God. (I found myself in a fundamental-based tradition.) Practical car. (Toyota mini-van.) House? (Two story, white house with room for children.) Get the picture?

Now please don't get me wrong, because I am not knocking any of those things. I chose them, after all, and they have been a formative part of my life. My point, however, is that it was not until I allowed myself to dream & listen (step out of "practical" patterns perhaps) that I ever began to really hear the call of my life. And, Now, the possibilities seem endless where before they felt quite finite. I began to spread my wings!

While at Mars Hill Graduate School I heard the word "calling" used often during my early years. It sounded good and began to stir something inside me, but it was not really until last week when I heard my supervisor say, "Listen to you! What a wonderful time of your life. You have found your calling!" Did I find it or did it find me? Somehow it was through the words of another that I started to understand that MY dream and MY calling are uniquely intertwined.

Random? Created? Unique? Those three things also seem intricately intertwined with each other as well as with dreams and calling. Where will they all lead? Who knows, but it is exciting to ponder. I find it amazing to see what happens when I can let go and quit trying to guess what is practical or acceptable or marketable or even possible...

So, what does the universe hold for you? Are you open to the possibilities that lie ahead? Will you allow yourself the chance to dream and listen today? It is often hard to know what the call may be or from where it comes, but one thing I do know is that a bird must spread its wings in order to fly ☺.

lucy's photos from puerta vallarta