Desert Blooms

In October of 2010, I had the amazing privilege of journeying to the Sinai of Egypt. During this season of Lent, I am being called to return to the desert - this time in my thoughts and prayer life. There is a barrenness in the desert landscape that is in sharp contrast to the life I experience at home in the Pacific Northwest. We are surrounded by buckets of rain and lush foliage bursting with color. It can be a challenging shift between the landscapes and I am grateful to have the wisdom of the desert fathers and mothers to guide me. This morning as I pondered Christine's words of blossoming and desolation, I couldn't help but remember my camel ride through the Sinai.

My perfect mentor showed up in the form of a majestic and sultry camel named Bella. She would be my wisdom guide for that day, and she lingers with me now as I rest over 6,000 miles around the globe. Bella was truly a desert queen and knew exactly how to find blossoms in the desert. She bloomed by following her own rhythm, and in these things we have much in common. Oh my, I love that camel. We started our day with a Bedouin boy holding the ropes. Slowly slowly we built trust until ultimately I received the reins. Nonetheless it was Bella who led.

This glorious creature had an uncanny way of spotting the smallest shade of green hundreds of feet ahead. She would subtly pull away from the crowd and with precision-like focus make her way to the nourishing Acacia bush. After dining, Bella and I would take our time wandering and pondering through the dry land. At times we moved slowly and walked along the edges of our tribe. Sometimes the pace was brisk and we bumped up alongside other pilgrims. When spying the blossoms before us, we pulled away from the herd to reach our destination.

As I remember Bella and write these words, it becomes clear this will be my Lenten journey - a season woven with times of rest, nourishment and activity. I must make time for my own rhythm and meditate in my cell as I surrender to the voices of Sabbath. Community will be important, for there I am called to laugh and love. The discipline of the practice offers me restoration and rejuvenation.

Like Bella and I in the desert, we don't have a map and cannot be certain what lies ahead. There is barrenness and desolation along the way, and nourishment blossoms in the most unexpected places. Welcome to the desert. I am grateful to be here. How about you?

I'm a Guest Blogger - Check it out!!

Life is full of such grandness and delight, I hardly know where to begin. For two days now the classic song by Petula Clark has been rolling through my head while I’m “Feeling Groovy.” ☺ Abundance rules with lots of sunshine, exciting adventures, lazy days and more.
Feeling Groovy pretty much sums it up!

Today, I would like to introduce you to a marvelous woman who has been part of all this groovyness with her wonderful work that's been impacting my life over the last seven weeks. Tonya Leigh is one of those women I feel like I’ve known all my life even though we’ve never met in person. On some what of a whim I signed up for her Slim, Chic, Savvy program with hopes of deepening my own awareness around food and body image, as well as exploring new ways to relate to others struggling with their own issues. What I’ve found is a soul sister who’s taken the principles I value in life and translated them into a program for deepening awareness of not only food and weight issues, but one focused on authentic living through pleasure and delight. (Is there really any other way!?!?)

It is my honor to be a guest blogger at Just B Living today, so without further adieu, I invite you to go over and take a peak into today’s offering, Do Slim, Chic, Savvy Girls Play Laser Tag? (The post includes more adventures as a tourist in my own town with my buddy, Seamus.) Enjoy!

While you’re there be sure to sign up for Tonya’s Slim, Chic, Savvy Manifesto. You won’t be sorry!!!

(btw - don't forget to let me know what you think about the guest post ☺.)

seamus & lucy Seattle Center - 7.10

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

Leveling the Playing Field

Last week at the "Honoring the Ancestors" retreat, I was greeted by these images during an experience of walking the labyrinth. My oh my!

Giggling little girls – full of joy and eager to greet me. “Come on. Come on,” they say. “Come play with us.” The years fade away – the hurts – the sorrows – the weight of life. We are girls – skipping – laughing – tumbling. Full of joy. Generations cascading together. Somersaulting like acrobats. Walking a tight wire without fear. Taking each others’ hands and holding – caressing. We raise each other upright with our laughter – lightness and light. A puddle of puppies, but we are giggling girls – all of us. Grandmas. Aunties. Mothers. Nieces. Daughters. Tumbling together on beds of feathers – light as air. Pure goodness – All else dissolves into fits of laughter.

“Come play with us.” We are little girls even in our death. Those who have gone before and those who come after share in the joy. Let it out of the box for all to see. Anne. Daisy. Myrtice. Audrey. Addie. Morgan. Janey. Stephanie. Kari. Ainsley. Dianna June and Kayce Dee. Come play with me. Auntie. Glenda Jo. Vicki. Carolyn. Barbara. Marilyn. Little girls, all. Their beauty glows.

Little girls. Aunts. Cousins. Daughters. Mothers. Grandmas. Sisters. Blonde. Raven-haired. Straight and curly. Giggling girls. Our laughter and compassion will save the world. Little girls, come dance with me. Little girls of wonder for all the world to see. Communion white and taffeta red – pink – yellow – golden girls. All tumbling into giggle pie.

Little girls skip and scuff their shoes. Giggling precious girls. Generations of them. Embracing me. Touching me. Our blood flows through from Eve. Transformed girls. How can anyone be angry with them? Look through the wrinkles of gray and death – into eyes of laughing girls. Full of hope and compassion and JOY! Amen. Blessed be.

"laughter" © lucy 11.11.09

Sacred Sunday: Walkin' on Sunshine

I love Sunday mornings. Lingering. Journaling. Taking time and space for me to see what rises up. Images - visual and written stir through my mind. The past week gone. The next not yet here. I sit in the sacred present. Only now.

Candlelight and gentle music. Fan blowing. Family sleeping. Coffee, hot and warm by my side. “Live with Passion.” Yes. Choose life. Choose me. Images call my name. Some already gathered. The girl in the pink sweater. She beckoned to me while I was preparing for my workshop. She was mine. Held in space until just the right time.

“Walkin’ on Sunshine.” My day yesterday. My life now. Inseparable from the universe. One moment folds into the next. Grounded. Whole. Light and airy. Held by the hand of God. The hands of my father. My ancestors.

Walking towards Ireland. Walking toward myself. I hold on and I move forward. With trepidation, not fear. Quivering, undulating movement. The pendulum of my grounded heart swings. The souls (soles) of my feet dance and move and walk on sunshine… with sunshine… through sunshine.

I am sunshine. Lucy of the light. Illuminated and free. My passion glowing and growing for others to see. I am Norah – the one of compassion. And Lil – life’s beauty. They surround me. Bold and emboldened.

The past and present collide and unite with the girl in the pink sweater. Head tossed back and laughing with glee. Trusting. Trusted. Held. Safe in the arms of my father and my mother. Grounded. They offered so much. Did their best. Healed me. Broke me. Made me.

Skipping and dancing, I share my light. My unique image of God. Belly full. Day arising. Lovely. Beautiful. Creating and created.