Caught between Tangible & Intangible

Today’s Lenten questions:
“What are the things you feel pulled between in your own life?”
“How are you being called to a greater experience of wholeness and integration?”

Isn’t that our greatest movement – the steps that propel us toward wholeness and integration? Living a life of integrity and not lies. The pull of life on the grand scale between love and fear. How will I step into the places of love? Where will fear seek to overcome my integrity?

In my recent post, a commenter asked what areas of growth I thought the robin’s song was signaling – spiritual, professional or relational? My response was that it feels like they’re all nestled together. My spirituality encircles everything I do and my professional life is all about relationship. I feel pulled or torn between being a go-with-the-flow, follow-my-heart, don’t-worry-about-time–or-money kind of woman and the get-‘er-done, make-a-list, be-productive, earn-a-living while tangibly-using-my-gifts messages that run through my mind. I am caught between the tangible and intangible.

Tangible output receives praise, financial reward, acknowledgement and results in physical product. This approach glorifies product over process. Process (or the intangible) comes from the times I sit curled on my sofa with music playing and candle lit simply allowing myself to be. Ineffable moments not limited by time or space. It is 'output' that can’t be quantified (nor should it be). Yet even this sacred time can be subjected to productivity results if I judge the quality by how many pages I pen or the number of minutes my meditation lasts. The challenge for me is to simply BE(E).

While in Egypt last fall, I received the word Be(e) during a very special ritual. It is proving to be quite a powerful presence for me. Bees are longtime symbols for accomplishing the impossible. The bee is a perfect totem for this place of being caught between tangible and intangible, product over process, because in reality both are necessary to achieve the balance my heart desires.

Be. It all comes back to this for me. Greater wholeness and integration calls me to this place where tangible and intangible meet and dissolve into one. Where product and process find their perfect balance. Where prayer becomes a way of being and being becomes a way of prayer.

Will you ponder today’s questions alongside me?

Standing on Holy Ground

"...if the journey you have chosen is indeed a pilgrimage, a soulful journey, it will be rigorous. Ancient wisdom suggests if you aren't trembling as you approach the sacred, it isn't the real thing. The sacred, in its various guises as holy ground, art, or knowledge, evokes emotion and commotion." Phil Cousineau

For regular readers, you may have noticed a mention here and there of an upcoming trip to the Sinai desert. In sharp contrast to my Paris trip of three years ago, this one has been enveloped in silent revelation. My preparations are more internal and I find I have fewer words to say - except I know this is what I'm supposed to be doing. While Paris was a pilgrimage of its own kind, my first "official" pilgrimage came about this same time last year when I traveled to Ireland. It was on that fair isle that I "knew" I would be going to Egypt (although with no forethought of this rapid timing.)

A 2nd pilgrimage is kind of like birthing your 2nd child. With the first one, ignorance is bliss. One can get all caught up in the excitement of the preparation without a clue of the life changing impact that awaits. With Ireland (as with my first child), I prepared and anticipated and understood it would alter my life, but didn't factor in the painful birthing and permanence of change. With my second physical birthing, I remembered the hours of labor, the discomfort and the incredible joy of bringing new life into the midst.

So, as I prepare to leave for the Sinai desert in about 10 days, I am awaiting my 2nd birth with trembling and awe. I know I am approaching holy ground. While in Ireland, I removed my shoes and sunk my toes in the rich damp loam. I walked across sharp rocks in an abandoned chapel and felt the sting of holiness surround me. The contrast of that damp climate and where I am going could not be greater. Arid air. Burning sand. Desolate terrain. Will my feet beg to curl their toes into the hot desert? I will travel in the path of Moses. Will I, too, receive the command to remove my shoes?

How does one prepare for something like this? Cousineau says if its the "real thing" then it will be challenging and you will tremble in its wake. In the past weeks as my departure date assuredly approaches, I have wondered, "Is this real?"... and then I read a phrase or hear my guide's voice and my heart trembles. I can only describe it as awe. It is joy mixed with terror. I have come into the presence of the almighty God. She beckons me to don my desert attire - to pare down - to simply come.

Simplicity has been my guide for several months now. My body is strong and lean. It bends and moves in the heat of hot yoga. My most challenging pose is "camel" - a heart-opening pose. Is this coincidence? Irony? Preparation? My home is clean and decluttered. I've been removing items that no longer serve me - that take up excess space in my life. I'm opening up for something - for what I do not know. I don't dare to even guess. This journey beckons me like a deer to water - like a Bedouin to an oasis. Surety has left my thinking and has entered my soul. I know I am standing on Holy ground - dare I know more?

photo © h3images

Simplicity

“Simplicity is the seedbed for sane, free, illumined holy living.” Tilden Edwards

In the stillness I return to God. The busyness of the last five days settles into my body like a workout followed by Savasana . They say it is in corpse pose that the benefits of the practice come. Returning to stillness, I am regenerated. Listening to my body, I know it needs rest today. Will I pull out of the quiet and press forward or can I rest here in the simplicity of my bed – rejuvenating?

I ponder the complexity of my simple existence. Eating when hungry. Stopping when full. Resting when tired. Moving when restless. Going when called. The practices of my life. Focusing on here and now. The garbage truck rumbling outside my window. Aslan purring against my chest. Pen flowing across paper. My heart beats inside my chest. Coffee flavors the walls of my mouth.

Here and now is all I have. This perfect, simple moment is enough. My stomach growls. The kitty hiccups. My head has a slight twinge of ache. I pause - slowing down to the minuscule of the moment. Operating at the speed of breath. Entering into holy living.

Care to join me?

photo from Bainbridge Ferry 7.15.10

Stalking Crows

“Wherever crows are, there is magic. They are symbols of creation and spiritual strength. They remind us to look for opportunities to create and manifest the magic of life. They are messengers calling to us about the creation and magic that is alive within our world everyday and available to us.” Ted Andrews

While outwardly there has been silence at Diamonds, inwardly and physically the coffers have been full – abundant even. It’s hard to even know where to begin. For those who are first time readers, you may find this a little outside the boundaries of your own personal comfort. Longtime and loyal followers, I hope will remember the groundedness and magic that is Me, Lucy ☺.

Crows have been stalking me. No kidding. You may recall a few weeks ago, the crow who swooped down and whacked me on the shoulder – twice! – while I was strolling home from yoga enjoying my morning latte. The significance of the event was easily dismissed as a protective mother crow whose hatchlings I was evidently threatening. Fair enough and most likely true. But why me? Why then? It’s never happened before and believe me I live around LOTS of crows.

Over the past week or so, crow feathers have been dropping in my path. Again, not so unusual perhaps, but they literally have been found directly between my back door and my car – three times. Like the whacking on the shoulder, to my recollection this has never happened before.

Before continuing, I probably should add here that only days before the first crow encounter, while preparing for a presentation on the Archetypes, I took a quiz designed to rate how the major archetypes show up in my personality. My number 1 score (by a landslide)... The Magician. So… you know the vestiges of my traditional, fundamental Christian upbringing start to squirm here. Nevertheless as I read about this archetype, I felt as though I were reading my own diaries. Still… I tried to dismiss the “coincidences,” until this morning when I began to journal.

A crow followed me yesterday. I swear it did. Heading out for my morning walk/jog, she started squawking at me and I thought there might be a repeat of the shoulder whacking. I tried to ignore her, but she followed me along the telephone wire above my head.

“Magic,” she cawed.
“You can’t run from it. I know. I know,” she cried.
“I see you.”
Every 20 feet or so she moved to keep up my pace for almost a block.
“Magic. You are magic.”

So, have I totally lost it this time? No. I don’t think so. This morning during my quiet time, I felt the magic as Pavarotti washed over me. I lit candles for the earth and wept tears for the gulf tragedy. Raising my arms, I spread them toward the southeast. Energy flowed from my body and as I offered the earth my condolences, I envisioned clarity and peace. Faces flowed through my mind and moments of presence to all of creation surfaced.

“Magic. Magic,” the crow cawed. “Presence is magic.”

My life is turning into one ongoing practice of presence to self – food – earth – others. While there is much more to this story, today I shall end with the following quote and ask: Where is the magic in your life? Does it come through presence? Can you allow yourself to be open to that which makes no objective sense? Will you allow yourself to experience the magic of the sacred?

“To the Magician, the sacred is not seen as above us, judging us, but as immanent in ourselves, nature, society, the earth, the cosmos.” Carol S. Pearson

photo - two crows by katherine treffinger
This piece of art hangs in my living room and was purchased for my husband on Father's Day 2009.

What We Already Know

Did I ever tell you about my Hawaiian labyrinth experience? Perhaps not because it kind of fits into one of those categories of inexplicable. It was a journey even getting there. Recommended by my friend and fellow spiritual director, Mary Ellen, we (six adult family members) were on a mission to find the Sacred Gardens in Maui. (In reality, my sister and I were on the mission - the rest were more or less agreeable to join in the adventure.)

Upon arriving at the gardens, we were greeted by their giant guardian angel, Bodie. His joyful presence occupied the dog lovers with 150 pounds of slobbering puppy love. The gardens, book store and two labyrinths nestled into the center of this tropical island were entertainment enough for the rest of the gang.

When I finally made my way outside to the path surrounded by tropical forest, a fellow traveler had already started his walk. Rather than crowd him, I waited until he reached the center and began his trek out. For a few minutes we traversed the gravel pathway together, moving in and out along the sacred road. While I was only mildly aware of his presence, there came a moment when he stopped at the edge of the circle, paused and then stepped out. In that split second, I felt a noticeable shift in the energy around me - not good, not bad, just different. The labyrinth was now all mine.

Walking with gentle steps, I became aware of light raindrops touching my bare skin. There was something fresh and new about the drops sifting through the green foliage, while contented birds sang in tune with my every step. Not being one to let a little water slow me down (it is, after all, my word for the year), I continued my pilgrimage. The rain persisted and picked up speed as I realized I would soon be soaking wet (having only just dried out from the morning's beach combing.) That was when the second angel appeared - Eve, (appropriately named in this garden of Eden) the proprietress, silently offered me a giant umbrella to help keep me dry.

Striped bumbershoot in hand, I continued my walk toward center. Upon arrival, I found the rest of the world had slipped away. I wasn't aware of anyone or anything except the present moment. Time stood still. As I tipped my head back to peek from beneath my shelter, the rain slowed down to the pace creation. I could see each drop appearing, one by one. And as I felt my whole being stretching upward, I experienced the hands of God reaching for my own - forming the drops of moisture out of thin air and pouring them into the being that is me. Aaahhhhhh. Yes, time stood still.

There are moments in a lifetime, I believe, that cause a molecular shift in your whole being. Even though they may drift in and out of conscious memory, they are embedded in who I am - in who you are. Currently, I am reading about Yoruba religion (a new one for me). In this tradition, Yoruba wisdom speaks of "recalling what we already know within." While I cannot adequately describe with words, I know that standing in the center of the Sacred Garden's labyrinth was one of those moments of "recalling."

How about you? Have you ever experienced moments of recalling what you already know deep within?

For my "official" review of God is Not One, visit here Monday, April 26 when I’m featured on the TLC Book Tour.

Bodie & Sacred Gardens © h3 images - artwork currently on display here and here.