safe landing

Moving toward my morning meditative routine – candle, music, journal…I chose a play list I did not recognize called, Prayer. My husband discovered this music by a Native American artist named Douglas Spotted Eagle. My journalling began with the words transition, transformation and trapezes. Life lately feels like that space just before you really let go and fling yourself into the air. I am reminded of my skydiving adventure just before stepping out of the plane. I clung to the door and bowed my head in frenzied prayer. It is that place just before you let go. You know it’s coming. You know you have to let go or you will forever regret it. I had no choice really, but to release my fingers and fling myself into the unknown. It seems that in order for life to keep moving forward that is exactly what I must do: let go, trust the unknown, and pray for a safe landing.

My writing traveled through many transitions as it so often does until I landed on that old topic of having compassion for myself. I am excellent at having compassion for others (most of the time), but one particular liminal space – the space 'in between' of loving my teenager and really disliking her a lot – keeps getting in my way. My anger and resentment rise. The classic words of a mother ascend in my throat, but not quite out of my mouth: “I’ve done so much for you. How can you not appreciate me?” And then I get mad at myself for even thinking that way and then she acts maddeningly teenager-ish and I get mad at her, but more myself (‘cuz I have compassion for her) and the cycle continues…

So, I kept writing and did a little reading and landed here: “…the quest both to understand oneself and finally accept oneself was a key journey for me…” I felt like God had a bullhorn to my ear. But, I didn’t really want to stay there and listen so I kept moving and opted to look once again at the Merton prayer I passed over last night:

"Be still
Listen to the stones of the wall.
Be silent, they try
To speak Your

Name.
Listen To the living walls.
Who are you?
Who
Are you? Whose
Silence are you?"

And so I chose to be silent and still. The music played softly in the background. The candle quietly burned across the room. I considered compassion for me. My mind drifted. I gently invited it back. I found myself following the rhythm of a drum. The call of the silence. The stones of the earth speaking to me. Somewhere in there, “my name" was spoken. I "understood and accepted." I moved a little closer to myself.

The name of the song I had never before heard? Coming Home.

How might things be different for you if you let go of the trapeze and flung yourself into the unknown? Do you expect a safe landing or do you assume you will crash & burn?

p.s. After writing this post, I wanted to give credit to Douglas Spotted Eagle. Here is one of the links I found. He is a skydiver!!! Coincidence? Synchronicity? God stuff?

p.p.s. Here's another one. Check out enCouragingBliss: Return to your Garden of Eden. It's yet another way of Coming Home.

soul collage by lucy

enCouragingBliss: When We Were Six

This week’s enCouragingBliss is about when we were six. Blisschick says, “By the time I was six years old, I had already been altered by fear.” Her words make me think of a premise I have been pondering. As I listen to people’s stories both professionally and personally, the most vivid memories often come into play around age five. Personally, I have two stories around that age. One is of amazing and abounding love; the other of fear and isolation. They seem to be two sides of my coin to this very day; like this from the “Chick”, “There were so many clues from the beginning about my bliss” AND “I have spent many years lost, trying to find my way back” (since those early negative messages started to cover it up.) So, the premise is this: Our bliss has been there all along. We were born with it and the rest of life is our journey to re-experience it.

When I was five, my favorite thing in the whole world was going to Kindergarten at Mrs. Peck’s. I loved the independence of walking around the half block to her house that abutted our backyard. I would skip and laugh and observe the wonder of rolly pollies on the sidewalk. I would sing to myself and dream of being a famous princess.

I shared ice cream cones with a puppy. I rode a small roller coaster without fear. I adored carrying the magic wand and gently tapping fellow travelers to help them awaken at the end of naptime.

Mrs. Peck gave the best hugs in the whole world – her ample bosom enwrapping my spunky five-year-old self. I was safe and content.

By the time I was six that safe and content child had begun to drift away. I remember one scene from first grade when I was terrified to raise my hand and ask to go to the bathroom. I stayed glued in my seat with a warm puddle silently spreading around my feet. The shame was paralyzing. By that time, my voice was silenced and I spent many many years believing the label given to me of “shy”. It was a painful place for a carefree spirit to live.

Blisschick asked if that little girl would be happy with my life now? My gut reaction was a resounding “YES!” which speaks so much of the woman I have become. It has not been an easy journey, but slowly and surely I have moved back toward that carefree spirit that loves skipping, laughing and helping others wake up from their long naps.

I believe in the power of story. I believe it helps us know our Bliss which has been there all along! So, tell me what you were like when you were about six.

stock photo

in times of transition...

I am facing a time of transition and it is coming fast. It is exciting and terrifying. Spaciousness abounds and yet I know that having boundaries to bump against has been essential in my growth.

“It is true that we are called to create a better world. But we are first of all called to a more exalted task: that of creating our own lives.” Thomas Merton – A Book of Hours
“(Relationship with Christ) beckons us to examine and question the structures around which we have shaped our lives – relationship, family, work, everything – so that we may discern whether they serve as containers that offer spaciousness to be who God created us to be or whether they confine and stifle us.” Jan Richardson - Garden of Hollows

Morning prayer: Oh, Lord how can I begin to doubt that you exist – are present – that you rule? (Even though those words “you rule” grate against my very soul.) Still, I know you are here. I feel your presence and guidance. Gently. Kindly. Boldly, you lead me. You allow me to lead where you want to go. Amen.

---now if I can just figure out where that is! ☺

"flying over iceland" 3.08

Voice Moderations

“Contemplation is the response to a call: a call from Him Who has no voice, and yet who speaks in everything that is, and Who most of all, speaks in the depths of our own being: for we ourselves are words of His.” --Thomas Merton

The last couple of days have contained a really interesting focus around finding my voice. Finding it AND losing it. The cool, amazing and terrifying thing about encouraging others to grow and become more authentic is that I am called to do the same thing for myself. Over and over again. Growth is a really great thing and sometimes I am stunned by how much there still is for me to do. It can be disheartening, but mostly it is exciting. As long as I am growing and changing then I am alive. Once I know everything – game over!

Working with my supervisor on Tuesday, I asked her how she thought I was doing. She responded with pretty quick accolades which are great to hear, but not necessarily helpful. Then she paused and said, “Do you really want to know what I see?” Yes, I responded. No! I thought. “Well there is this thing you do when you have something really great to say. You start out strong and then you let your voice slow down and kind of trail off so that you end up losing the impact of what you are offering.” Damn! I had heard this before but not quite as concisely as this.

We continued the conversation and she said, “You’re like a little kid who is passionate about something…” And then it hit me, Oh shit! That’s exactly it. I am a child stopped by a withering stare or a “hush, not now” in my head or both. My voice not welcomed. My excitement – my passion – squelched. My voice trails off – gets quieter – until I speak no more. While I am familiar with this and have spent lots of time in therapy and contemplation, it still makes me sad to know how the effects of childhood linger into my womanhood. AND…that’s the great thing about awareness. Now, I can do something about it while I learn to catch myself before I let my voice fade away.

Yesterday morning after doing some journaling on this topic, the above quote from Merton was waiting for me. And, throughout the day I had ample chance to consider standing strong in my voice. The Universe even offered up some withering stares and a presence very reminiscent of my past with which to practice. Fun, huh? I was very grateful for my morning yoga class and my daily intention of kindness for myself and others!

So, where do you get stuck in old patterns? What do you think about the thought “Once I know everything – game over”? As always, I’d love to hear your voice!! Namaste.

Language of Letting Go

“Today I will begin the process of letting go of all self-defeating feelings and beliefs connected to past relationships. I will clear my slate so I am free to love and be loved.” - Melody Beattie

This process of healing is long and hard – just like the process of being hurt. It is not just one grand instance – perhaps that would be easier and quicker to forgive. It is instead death by a thousand pinpricks so small in the moment that they might not be noticeable at all, but added together over years and years of time, they create a gaping hole that may seem impossible to fill. However…nothing is impossible. It may take more than this lifetime – perhaps not – but it will take diligence. One tiny dot at a time covering over the hole – patching it sometimes with the size of a needle’s eye and other times with big scoops and shovels full. Each time by letting go a little more, the gaping hole is healed.

If one sets one's mind to not forgive, the hole will remain jagged and deep, but if we open ourselves to forgiveness and grace – to gratitude for what we have received – the light will begin to fill the darkness.

Today, I tossed handfuls of fertile soil into the hole. I chose to look her in the face. I opened the door just a little bit more toward forgiveness. Little by little we are being healed; just as little by little, we were harmed. Happy Birthday, Daisy!