Do you need an earthquake?

Before you read today's post - and I hope you'll read it all & comment - take a look at the accompanying image. It's a card created between yesterday's post of desert blooms and today's words that flowed from my heart. I haven't spent a lot of time with this card, but a couple of observations: it's big and bold - there's a shadow side in there somewhere - I feel empowered and terrified when I consider it - she gives me the courage to step out and post the following reflections that poured into my journal this morning.

I didn't necessarily set out to write this for the public, and was going to heavily edit it if it turned into a post. I opted, however, to make minor revisions and go with the flow. The beginning quote is mine, made at Claire's post, Signs, where she speaks of the earthquake that sets Paul and Silas free from jail.

"yes, those earth shattering moments - many of them have melded together for me almost to the point where i see them everywhere i look - my heart has expanded and softened - fright seems to have been replaced with a love i thought i could never experience. it seems abstract and a bit cliche to put into words. simply put, yes, i've had those experiences and i remember, thank godde!"

the post describes the fear of the jailer when the earthquake shook and the prisoners were set free. the fear of the prisoners. it was elucidated in one of the comments on the blog "yikes, prisoner's escaping - time for fear." prisoners are scary, and i don't want to admit that to myself. prisoners are scary - really the unknown is scary. prisoners are just people like the rest of us and, yes, there is cause to be frightened of some of them, but not all of them. (oh, i hate them/they language.)

yesterday on a Facebook status, a well-meaning woman talked of wanting to provide spiritual direction to an "incarcerated" person and a "normal" person. my blood boiled. are you kidding me? you want to go and share God, but geez, can you hear what you're saying? i hear her saying "us and them". we're normal and they're not. an incarcerated person and a normal person. what bullshit is that? oh, i don't even want to rant about her. i need to listen to my own heart.

why does this grate on me so much? because i can see it in myself, huh? my fear. her fear. the jailer's fear - of the other. we fear 'the other', and as long as we fear the other - whether of another nationality, religion, social status - whatever - there will never be peace. fearing the other is the most dangerous thing we can do. yes, i know we have instincts to tell us when we're in danger, but what of the "instincts" we have been carefully taught? to hate people of color or those who weigh "too much" or fill in your own blank... we're taught to fear being old, too. how many of us fear the handicapped or the infirm? it's scary - really scary, 'cause it could be us!

when my mother was placed in a memory care facility (i.e. she had alzheimer's), my son at age 13 was the most compassionate person i've ever seen. he didn't fear the looping stories or the blank stares - he joined in with the residents and listened to their stories again and again. life has warped his views now with more prejudice, but then, he wasn't frightened - they were just people and he was a friend and champion for the under dog. now he is one. he's the guy behind the bars. he's the one we're supposed to be afraid of.

i sit in the visiting room at the prison and it looks like a class room. i haven't felt a moment of fear in that environment. maybe it's because the guards are standing around. maybe. but they're all people with stories. i feel more curious than anything and would love to sit down and talk with everyone (not allowed - btw). i don't see the men as "other" - other than making different choices than i've made, but i have no idea what life path lead them to those choices. fear - certainly. desperation - probably. self-contempt - absolutely.

and so we pour on the contempt by placing "them" in the other category. we're not scary and they are. we're normal and they're different. it's all fear. so what do we do? who are you afraid of? how does it cause you to be in the world or not be in the world? what's the difference between you and me and the guy in the orange jump suit? choices? luck? nature? God's plan? did God predestine them to be bad and us good? bullshit. yes, it comes down to choice. it comes down to love and fear. how can we be curious? i don't know what it means to be black or jewish or handicapped, but do you know what it's like to have a kid in jail and have the "good" Christian people afraid of him - categorizing him before they've even considered him as a person?

if you've ever read Martin Buber, you know about the i/thou relationship. when do we quit making people "it" and consider them as I/Thou. look into the eyes - yes, you may feel your blood chill - i've had that experience and i say "run". watch "dead man walking" and see sister prejean. yes, sean penn was scary in that movie - the character was terrifying and there was a spark of humanity. my son sits beside the most heinous offenders. does that make him scary? yes, i won't deny that i've dreamed of being terrified of him, and i will still give him a chance to be more than an it or they. i will not categorize blindly. at least i hope i won't.

i hope i will be like the jailer's in Claire's story and ask what i need to do to be saved - from myself. from my own pettiness and bitterness and fear. that's who and what i need to be saved from. "they" don't need to be saved, I do - especially if i hold malice and unjustified fear in my heart. - uneducated fear. ignorant fear. i say to me and you - to us: listen to yourself. have knowledge before you speak or at least acknowledge your ignorance. don't speak of love if you don't know what it's like to love unconditionally. i don't wish the challenges i've had on anyone AND i am grateful to have been challenged to know what it's like to love without condition. i'm not sure i would have done it on my own without an earthquake - would you?

Thanks for reading today. Wishing you peace and blessings.

sips and drops of blessing

“The element of water connects us to a sacred web across the globe and invites us into acts of blessing, pouring forth love and grace to the world around us and receiving it in return.” -- Christine V. Paintner

I’ve often thought of the air we breathe as being connected to everyone in the world. My neighbor in Puerto Rico inhales the same air that flowed from my Seattle home, across the United States and then south to the Caribbean. In my mind, it moves on around the world across Europe and Asia, crossing the Pacific and then back home again.

Air flows freely and although it may feel stagnant for periods of time, it is still fluid – as is water. While water may not be the exact same body flowing directly from one place to another, there is still the possibility and invitation to connect across the globe - if only in our heart and imagination. When I ponder my flowing tears dropping into a stream that flows toward the ocean which moves via gulf stream, I can witness a piece of myself touching the woman in Africa who washes her clothes on a rock while bending over a muddy river. Perhaps it is the same water melted from the Polar ice cap, evaporated, blown through the clouds and poured out on a different continent half way around the world.

While I am clearly no scientist, I do know that water changes shape and form and has a unique path of its own. What would it be like to consider water in the way Christine describes as “acts of blessing, pouring forth love and grace to the world around us”? Personally, I love the image of blessings passed through sips and drops of water.

photo © lucy - Ireland, 2009

Guilt or Gratitude?

It’s a surreal experience, sitting in an aluminum tube looking out the window from 30,000+ feet to witness only vast expanses of water while knowing this morning I left my Seattle home where it was dark and rainy and by late afternoon, I will be feeling the warmth of the Hawaiian sun. My husband sits beside me listening to an i-pod and reading his Kindle. My daughter and her friend behind us with their manicured nails fiddling on assorted gadgetry to keep them busy. We indeed live a privileged life and at this very moment I am trying to feel gratitude instead of guilt.

My own reading topic of the moment is a book called Trauma Stewardship by Laura Van Dernoot Lipsky, and it is what prompted this post.

“I went shopping last week for a pair of shoes, and I thought to myself, “What kind of person would go shopping for a pair of shoes right now?” Community activist, New Orleans, nine months after Hurricane Katrina

As I read the above quote, I was filled with flashbacks of the last few weeks. As I mentioned in this post, I have spent lots of time working with individuals (myself included) who struggle with “good fortune” and “privilege” particularly in light of the recent devastation in Haiti. A few days ago, I had virtually the same thought: How can I be going to Maui when people are buried under rubble in Haiti? Never mind that the trip was planned months before the recent earthquake. Our thoughts don’t always make sense do they?

Lipsky says it is a common experience of caregivers to feel guilt over the disparity between our lives and the lives of those we serve. I felt a twinge of this same guilt yesterday as my co-facilitator and I finished up our weekly session of Deepening Spirituality through SoulCollage® at the Recovery Café. Our class represents a variety of participants, many who live on the margins of poverty. So when my friend prompted me to tell the participants that I would be absent next week, I felt a slight twinge of guilt. I announced my absence and they quickly replied with “Where are you going??!?!” I hesitated a beat, breathed in and exhaled, “Maui.” “Maui?!? Are you kidding? Lucky you! We hate you. No fair. Teachers aren’t supposed to play hooky!” The good-natured barrage continued until I finally laughed, “Hey, sorry guys, I’m going and I’ll see you when I get back.” They responded playfully and I realized we were having an authentic encounter that brought us closer than ever in our humanity. It turned into a magically sweet moment and my resolve to not downplay my trip, but to send them a postcard and let them know I really was thinking of them.

Lipsky goes onto say when we downplay our own good fortune, we distance ourselves from others by not being genuine, and ultimately begin “to experience our own life with less abundance and joy than we truly feel.”

All of these moments fit into my primary pondering category of self-care leading to good care of others. My husband and I both declared a night or two ago that we are really tired. It’s been a stressful few months and we need to recharge. Yes, we are fortunate and can afford a plane ticket and a week in a nice condo – but in my heart I take along those with whom I work and know that I will be a better caregiver for this respite.

So, I’m curious – do you ever find yourself downplaying your good fortune? What is the impact for you? Do you feel better or worse? Does it bring you closer to others or increase the distance? And what of ‘authentic encounter’? How has it expanded your view of humanity?

Well, this may be the deepest (or only) thought you get out of me for a few days. Who knows? I’m off to recharge and setting aside my guilt for the time being. ☺

Aloha!

rainbow over honolulu © lucy 2.11.10

first glimpse of maui © lucy 2.11.10

Breaking Open

I need to write these words and I need to have them witnessed. They feel raw, discombo- bulated and important – at least for me. Slowing down this morning, my emotions lean toward the weight of the world – mine, my children’s, the children of Haiti and yours.

Monday, I sat with a young woman who is fighting for her life. She is not physically ill or destitute – most would say she lives a privileged life – and she would not disagree. Still… she struggles. This week, her battle for self-awareness was set against the devastation and death in Haiti… her search for personal peace transposed against a backdrop of events tangibly bigger than her own breaking heart. It is surreal and she paused to decide if she is worth it – to consider if she matters enough to fight for her own life without appearing selfish.

Tuesday, I engaged in a conversation with graduates of a Christian institution. The topic: What makes the institution unique? (i.e. Why go there, donate your money or invest your time?) One young man articulated before he went to school there, he had a 'Save the World' mentality that felt huge and impossible to accomplish. Now he sees things on a smaller scale – one individual - one conversation at a time. This feels doable. This feels like the Gospel to him – and I would not disagree. Can the world be saved on this scale?

As I write, dozens of other faces in this short week flash through my mind. Wednesday’s encounter with a woman who has heart-warming dreams that fill her to near bursting, but has a hard time seeing how those dreams can impact the outer world. Monday’s witness of prisoners in orange jump suits, some angry and entitled – others grateful to be alive and willing to transform one day at a time – some both. The only thing separating them and me is the color of their suit and my ability to walk out the steel-encased doors. Yesterday, I facilitated (& participated in) a recovery group where I am awed by the vast array of socio-economic, cultural, and spiritual representations. All an integral part of the world. All unique individuals. All just like me.

So, I sit here this morning snuggled with my golden cat, slowing down long enough to consider these things. I am near overwhelmed with sadness for my own broken heart and filled with hope for change in the world. Things seem to be shifting – or perhaps it’s just me? I am reminded of Mother Teresa’s prayer for her heart to break wide open so the whole world may fall in. Today, the world is right here with me. In this moment, I am grateful and awash in a sea of other emotions.

Is it enough to care for ourselves when others are dying? Do we not each die a bit every day? Can a breath of life in my body reach across the world? Does it have to go that far or is it enough to touch someone across the room, or closer yet to fill my own lungs?

by the sea © lucy 1.09.10

how do you define violence?

..."violence is not just a matter of dropping a bomb on someone or shooting a bullet at them or hitting them in the face. Violence is done whenever we violate the identity and integrity of the other. Violence is done when we demean, marginalize, dismiss, rendering other people irrelevant to our lives or even less than human. Violence is done when we simply don't care or don't look hard enough to evoke our caring for another." -- Parker Palmer

I share this quote today, because my daughter experienced this kind of violence first hand this week. She is a member of a class of citizens known for their extreme "meanness" - that of the teenage girl. Unfortunately this time the 'violence' came from someone who should know better. He is supposedly a role model. He is a coach.

Torn between wanting to rake this man over the coals and also wanting to be compassionate because I cannot know what has brought him to this place, I shall keep my public statements to a minimum. My private journaling, however, includes lots of spewing. I am livid to put it mildly.

How can the next generation grow into positive citizens when their role models daily inflict violence on them? How can we stop violence in the world if we do not stop it in our own homes & neighborhoods? So i must consider... How do I dismiss others without a thought? Where do I inflict violence by simply not caring? I hope you will consider this for yourself alongside me.

"headless" by lucy 7.08.09