Dancing with the Jellyfish

"Nature...a source of renewal and perspective, a place to be made whole." Mimi Farrelly-Hansen

Walking on the shore, I find myself staring at transparent beauty. Beauty began to stare back at me – to cry out – to breathe and gasp – “Help me” “Save me” “I’m melting…melting”.

Breathing or melting? The sun drying out her ethereal body. Only a spark to be left at the center.

The core. The center. The soul. The outer withering away. Dried up and gone with the wind.

The jellyfish pled to be saved. She looked at me from that transparent soul. “Water of life, I need you.”

And so the dance began. Scooping her up with a sheet of broken plastic – garbage left in the sand. Scooping and tossing. Over and over again. The currents – the waves - would not cooperate. They would not carry her out to sea.

Watching the rhythm – landing her in the ocean – she began to swim. Her tentacles spreading and floating. Beautiful and deadly. They are her power and they are deadly. I nearly forgot they could harm me, so mesmerized by the beauty was I. Her power full and floating free. Could she escape to the open sea?

No. She was destined to arrive on the shore. I could not save her. Did she know and feel that I fought for her? Scooping and tossing again and again until I knew I could not save her.

And so I left her by a rock. A small pool of water keeping her moist. Life giving. Life sustaining. Maybe that small pool of water was enough to nourish her. Perhaps the tide changed and pulled her back to sea. Back to see the depths of the ocean.

Did she know I fought to save her? Was that enough? Did she know?

Will I let my power flow or will I tuck it under and shrivel up and blow away?

She was 85% water. The sun drying her out. The heat. The fire of day. Shriveling into sand. Beached upon the earth. Blown away by the wind. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

Perhaps the morning rain released her. Maybe her soul dropped into a new body. The joy of a dog. The laughter of a child. The brilliance of a woman.

photos by lucy 5.07.09

pondering truth...part 2

So much of figuring things out seems to be through interpretation. Often when we use certain words, we assume people are on the same page with us – or that they are not. Or we make the mistake of thinking that someone else holds our best answers. (Assumptions can be dangerous things.) If we cling to other’s interpretations and never come to our own conclusions does that not keep us in the dark?

How do I define my truth? My bliss? Not in a self-centered me me me way, but truth as light or goodness or personal freedom, whatever you want to call it for yourself. “He/she who practices the truth, his/her deeds may be manifested as having been wrought (the work) by God.” I read this as truth made visible and shared with the world. Or as Frederick Buechner puts it, "The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet." This manifestation comes with congruency between your core self’s truth and what comes out in action, word or deed. Even if another person does not receive or accept it, you can feel unwavering without needing to fight back or defend. Now, I believe it takes lots of work to know how to trust yourself, but once you have felt that knowing, it becomes unmistakable. It is indeed something that one must come to on their own. I can’t make anyone else come to his/her own truth (or knowing). All I can do is make an offering. We cannot make anyone truly believe something no matter how hard we try.

I believe that is why God comes in all shapes and forms. At the core we are not so very different AND we are unique. We all have glory and depravity, but mine will not look exactly like yours. One size does not fit all. A man’s may not look like a woman’s. One of the greatest gifts I have experienced in life is witnessing another’s face when they come to that place of knowing that they know their own personal truth. They find their own place that most gloriously expresses God’s love for themselves and thereby the world.

Do you think we can make others believe something - anything? We can offer information, hold up a mirror and give our opinions, but can we turn the light bulb on in someone else's mind? Can I define your truth or you mine? Thoughts? How many watts in your bulb?

"Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense." --Buddah

photo from rodin museum, paris 3.08

pondering truth...part 1

“But he who practices the truth comes to the light, that his deeds may be manifested as having been wrought in God.” John 3:21 NASB

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive." –Dr. Howard Thurman

Oh, I have a feeling I am in way over my head on this one. My husband even headed the other way when he heard I was having a theological discussion with myself. Nevertheless here I sit in my safe little space pondering some pretty big questions. What is truth? What is authentic? What is God’s work?

I am also wondering about our human nature to go for either simplistic answers and/or responses that are so convoluted there is only argument without conversation. I continue to be profoundly affected by those who dismissively reduce Christ to the simple statement, “All you have to do is believe" and imply the rest is gravy. I do not choose to throw the Christ-child out with the bath water, however, mustn’t we look at the paradox of life? Things (e.g. life, truth, religion) are immensely simple AND oh so very complicated.

So, what does it look like to practice truth? How do you or I define “truth”? Who am I? How can I be a better person? Am I a horrible person? Pondering the existential questions of life, can they all be simply answered by turning outward and accepting Jesus Christ as Savior? It helps – at least it can – and it can cause much more guilt and shame if we feel like we're not getting it "right." Shame taken on as being evil, bad people when we don’t measure up or feel happy all of the time - when the rest is not “gravy.” Does the judge come from without or within?

Today’s reading John 3:14-21 is about the light and being willing to look into the darkness. What of those who refuse to look inside, fearing there is nothing there? It is fear that keeps us from looking. Why are we afraid to look at the core? What if nothing is there or what if it’s all darkness inside? What if we think it's all goodness and it's not? Who is the judge?

“For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world.” (John 3:17) We already do that for ourselves. Richard Rohr says, “Much of patriarchal Christian interpretation has been trying to avoid pain; it thought birth pangs were unnecessary. That’s why we couldn’t hear Jesus.” Sometimes we have to look inside and that can be terribly painful. It’s reminiscent of the pangs of childbirth. Is it easier for women to make the connection between life and pain? It is often easier to focus on doing and being successful (whatever that means) than looking inside ourselves. What if the real self is nasty and ugly? What if it is the depraved sinful self that fundamental Judeo-Christianity sells? Or...what if it is good beyond measure. What then? What if it's both?

John 3:21 offers, “But he who practices the truth comes to the light, that his deeds may be manifested as having been wrought in God.” It all seems to be about defining what truth is. A few years ago in a workshop designed for personal healing I noticed that as I came closer and closer to remembering my own personal truth, I intuitively reached for the light. My arms raised of their own accord as in flight – a sense of being lifted from the ground – moving toward the light. It may have been a dimmed old light bulb, but even with my eyes closed I was moving and reaching toward a brilliant light. My own light shining and love flowing through me and out of me – permeating every pore, vessel, atom of my body. Filled with light. To me, this is eternal life. End without end. It is truth.

I have decided this will be a two part series...so check back in for the rest of these ponderings. In the meantime, feel free to ponder alongside. How do you define truth? Light? God's work? Authenticity? Other thoughts?

photo from musee d'orsay 3.08

baby whisperer

One of the things I look forward to each month is my visit to see my chiropractor, Dr. Derek. Health benefits aside, I always enjoy meeting with the young doctor for our conversations about the little synchronicities of life. He and his staff have created a welcoming atmosphere in the top floor of an old fire station. There are hardwood floors, natural lighting, and great music.

Last week, I found myself complaining about the change in schedule. Appointment hours were being expanded, but my favorite slot had been eliminated. So, I hemmed and hawed (not so very graciously) and landed on another day and time to try.

This morning when I arrived, I heard a baby crying. I realized it was the doctor’s one year old, Mia, and I overheard him saying they were a little short-handed since his wife was at the dentist and the children were in his care. Shortly, after doing my wobble chair I walked back up to the front and saw little Mia sitting in Grace, the receptionist’s lap. Underneath the desk was Mia’s older brother Ty (3). He and I carried on a wonderful conversation about Thomas the train and friends -- both of us declaring Percy as our favorite.

Soon, Mia was beckoning for my attention. She reached her chubby little arms out, toddled over and let me scoop her up. I thought she might decide quickly that I was someone she did not know and want to go back to the familiar. Nope. We were fast friends. There were three other people ahead of me for adjustments so Mia and I strolled around the space and looked out the window at the mountains and sunshine. I quickly found myself rocking with my “mom sway” that I have not used in many moons! I felt Mia’s weight shift and asked Grace if her little eyes were still open. Nope. Sound asleep. Her body getting heavier with each breath, I sat down and held the slumbering babe.

What a gift! Just a few days ago I wrote about the joy of holding my sleeping children and then today, here I was snuggled up with a little blonde angel. I wondered if somehow the Universe was granting an unknown request submitted by me in my list of 7 favorites. Hmmm…

Too soon, the time came for my own appoint-
ment and I nestled Mia onto a mat on the floor. She, of course, woke up when she was out of my arms, but soon her mother arrived to comfort her. . . The doctor said, “Lucy’s the baby whisperer”. Mom replied with a smile , “Yes, I’ve heard.” It was a wonderful affirmation that my “good mom instincts” are still intact—something that’s easy to question when teenagers are quick to try and convince me otherwise. I like to believe small children are quite perceptive and discerning in who they choose to hang out with. Baby Whisperer…I like it.

So, all of my grousing about changing days and times, turned into this wonderful little glimpse of heaven. I really wonder why I try to control anything at all…it seems like more times than not, changes turn into something more brilliant than I ever could have imagined. Are you a grouser? Or can you let things come as they may? I seem to vacillate between the two…hopefully leaning a little more toward welcoming what comes freely.

photos from paris 3.08

gracious tenders of fire

Oh, I have a fire in my belly and sometimes it doesn’t burn so pure. It threatens to hop out of its grate and scorch those that get in the way. I am so grateful for the responses to judgment or observation and how it helped me to see for myself where and how I want people to join me in my “righteous” flame. My reader responses were so thoughtful that I wanted to respond here in post rather than have it buried in the comment section. (The following, in most instances, contains my paraphrasing rather than direct quotations.)

Difference a Year Makes spoke of bringing our own eyes and filters to each situation. What a great little reminder of something that I often preach, but sometimes forget to practice ☺. In this case, my filter comes from someone who grew up quite familiar with judgments in general and Christian fundamentalism in particular. I have also been a mother who wonders when she might get the call that something has happened to her “not model” child. So, I get a little sensitive when all of those things collide together as they did in the referred to recent e-mail.

Gabrielle reminded me that we have the power to choose what we do with our observations and judgments. I can choose to hold onto thoughts and let them fester or I can let it go and transform into something else. Tess and Sunrise Sister let me know that my interpretation could be subject to another point of view. (Ouch! That one hurt a little and I really wanted to fight it.)

While the wording in the e-mail did indicate that prayer for the deceased (or perhaps one who takes one’s own life) might not be appropriate, I was reminded by Sorrow that the author was indeed seeking comfort for the family and not attempting to exclude anyone. She was trying to be respectful of other’s faiths. Furthermore, Barbara and my husband reminded me, there are wonderful, faith-filled people who do not believe in praying for the dead. While I still get caught on that one, I can let it go as a difference of opinion and not something I am called to judge. It is here I realized I wanted others to join with me and say, “That Faith is wrong!” Gabriella M. reminded me that I can accept someone without liking what they do.

The gracious words of those who love and tolerate my fiery nature led me gently back to the place I long to be. It is a place where I am not attached to my thoughts and thus they do not turn into judgments and I am at peace with the world and myself. It is a place where I recognize myself as fallible, broken and wondrous and I can see others that way too.

This time the fire briefly threatened to be one that could consume. Instead, my friends came around like gentle tenders of the flame, nurturing with word, musing and metaphor to keep the fire a place of warmth and safety rather than danger and destruction. Peace to each of you, fire tenders.

For those of you who did not read the responses to this post, I highly recommend you visit there for beautiful words of wisdom and grace.