What if Love is IT?

In my recent post, I mentioned that I have not spent a lot of time in the scriptures of late. However, while reading “Lectio Divina” I find that I am drawn to read more from the Bible and I am really o.k. with it. (Shudder shudder…I hear as I imagine some of my readers thinking ‘ how could you NOT be ok with it?) I shall explain just a bit here ☺. For those of you who do not know me well or may be new to this site, I will mention that Christianity is the source of my introduction to God. What a statement?!?!? “The source of my introduction to God.” While I do not want to attempt a discourse on my religious path at this specific time, suffice it to say that having been brought up and then married into a predominantly “fundamental” environment and subsequently adopting a more “broad view” of life, I continue my personal journey of discovery and wrestling with what does it mean to love God?

So, where am I going with this? Pondering why I have stayed away from Scripture, I came to realize that the exclusionary voices of fire and brimstone are associated with the Bible of my past and really like to creep into the present! “If you don’t believe in Jesus you are going to hell! Jesus is the ONLY way! You must confess your sins or die!” These words speak of harsh judgment. Judgment breeds judgment. I get Jesus and I don’t. I get heaven and I don’t. I want rest and peace and love for the world. I believe that Jesus is love. So, what if that is true? What if Jesus and God and Buddha and fill in your own personal favorite are LOVE? Period. Love. That’s it. Wouldn’t that be enough to change the world? What if LOVE is the ONLY way?

If we could truly come from a place of love instead of fear, would it be enough to change the world? What if we bring ourselves and do our best each day. Accepting rather than expecting—not in a wishy-washy, no responsibility kind of way. What if we take responsibility for ourselves and call each other to a higher place in love—pure love, not fear-based love. Not the condemning, you have to do this or that or you’re going to hell kind of “love”. What if Jesus is love? Period. What if “the thing for which I was laid hold of by Christ Jesus” is love? That “thing” could change the world.

So, that’s where my heart is right now. It may sound simplistic or sacrilegious or like I have lost my mind, but I challenge you to give this a try: See what happens when you insert the word Love in place of “Christ & it.” What if LOVE is it?

“Not that I have already obtained it, or have already become perfect, but I press on in order that I may lay hold of that for which also I was laid hold of by Christ Jesus.” Philippians 3:12

lectio divina

As I begin to read the new book, Lectio Divina, I find that an air of familiarity surrounds me. “This is what I do,” my internal voice says. And then the ego side pipes up and says, “Oh you think you know everything. Don’t you see how that closes the door to possibility?” It is a wonder that I can even get past the first page as my inner dialogue carries on a full-blown conversation! And then I read the words “hold this lightly.” Ahhhh, I can feel a sense of peace come over me for a moment, and then I am reminded of the opposite of holding lightly. It is grasping.

Buddhism speaks of the grasping mind and how it keeps us from peace and serenity. When we grasp our desires strongly, there is a driven quality that arises. Anxiety, jealousy, rigidity and insecurity all become stronger. So, as I consider lectio divina (an ancient prayer form which translates as ‘holy reading’) I wonder how I can hold lightly to the structure. How can I keep myself free of the arrogant sense of knowing and therefore leave myself open to new possibilities? Paintner and Wynkoop speak of a flowing rhythm and I wonder how this translates into my current practice of prayer.

I read. Contemplate. Meditate. Act. It flows. I move. I listen. I find myself open to possibility. Open to hearing. Do I express my gratitude? Do I allow myself to sit with God—resting in holy presence? The piece that has been missing for me recently is Scripture. I have chosen to use other “texts”: music, nature, blogs, poetry and sacred readings. Do I attend them with holy listening? Am I open to what they say? I am formed and informed through the listening. I often do not remember details, but rather have an overall sense of what I have taken in. I have breathed the experience (the text) in and let it permeate my being.

I hear the voice of arrogance once again in my head. “You think you are so special.” Yikes! Hold lightly. Do not grasp. Be grateful. Thankful to be able to breathe in and out. It is a great paradox. Letting go so the words may come. Losing my life so I may find it. Letting go to receive. Stop moving so I can just be.

Do you have these battles of the mind? Does your ego strive to overcome your stillness? Where do you find yourself grasping? Where do you need to let go or show gratitude? What does your 'holy reading' look like?

collage by lucy

formation

“to be nobody but myself— in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make me somebody else— means to fight the hardest battle any human can fight, and never stop fighting.”

--e.e. cummings

I love to read. One of my favorite things to do is to light a candle, put on some gentle music, pour a hot cup of coffee and snuggle into my bed surrounded by my current pile of reading material. The challenge for me, however, comes as I switch back and forth between texts (with an intermittent stop at my favorite blog sites) and then try to remember where exactly was that brilliant point I want to incorporate into my musings.

Currently I am reading Trapped in the Mirror—Adult Children of Narcissists in their struggle for self and Life is a Verb by the delightful Patti Digh of 37 days. This morning I began Lectio Divina by my dear friend Christine Paintner of Abbey of the Arts and I recently finished The Wise Heart – A Guide to the Universal Teachings of Buddhist Psychology by Jack Kornfield. At first glance these texts might appear to be quite diverse in topic and indeed they are. However, my ponderings this morning brought out the common thread I see in these books.

Perhaps it is merely my perspective, but I see that all move toward the goal of greater life – fullness – connection with God – mental health – mindfulness – coming alive – fulfilling who we are meant to be. They all speak of formation and lead me to ask the following questions: How will I be formed? How am I being formed? What is my role in personal formation? Do I read for information? Do I write to be formed or to inform? Who or what do I seek?

When I allow myself to slow down, I realize that it is God I seek. The ultimate wholeness and completeness of the universe. When I experience God, I am home. I see the beauty of the stillness. I hear the still small voice - the words that seemingly come out of nowhere. The meaning that has no words – only experience. I know that I am here for a purpose even though I may not quite know what it is.

So I invite you to ponder along with me. How are you informed? Do you see patterns in your life that warrant exploration? Who or what do you seek in your daily life? In your readings? Your work or play? Do you choose to fight the battle to be yourself? Or do you allow others to make you into someone else?

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves.
--Rainer Maria Rilke

mama bear

This mom is crabby crabby crabby. A stark contrast to the peaceful stillness of only a few days ago. Surrounded by incompetence and teenage angst…not being able to decide whose is whose. The term “mama bear” keeps roiling around in her brain along with the gesture of throwing her arm across the passenger seat to protect her child in the event of a sudden stop. What is it about mother’s that sends their right arm flying into open position when they think their child is in danger? Do British mum’s fling open their left?

Still she ponders and wonders why the anger has arisen so sharply in the last week. Is it that she is surrounded by grownups battling their own demons and attempting to throw their anger into her lap? At work, they sit and smile, but she feels their seething undercurrent even while they say everything is “o.k.” At school, her youngest battles for autonomy while coming up against the man/boys they call role models. It is enough to make a parent’s blood boil. For sure it makes a mama bear growl!

Still she wonders if she is coddling or letting go too soon. The balance is a tough one. The teen has her own immature hijinx, but here she is called to be the “adult” as she plays the game of high school politics. Yuk! Mama bear wants to step in and give the offenders a big swat of her paw, but settles for a little art making and mental health break instead.

A trip to the masseuse ends with the recommendation of “Take it easy and watch movies all day” ☺. Advice heeded, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly continues the melancholy mood as she finds herself feeling stuck in her own diving bell. Mama bear is ready to hibernate. Like I said, this mom is crabby crabby crabby!

visual journal page by lucy 10.03.08

perfect stillness

How do you capture the stillness that is God? One step onto the gravel path reverberates like the clashing of cymbals. It is a cacophony of sound against the deep, dark nothingness that surrounds me. It is nothing and it is everything. I can feel God in the air that is neither wet nor humid nor dry. It does not feel heavy and yet I am immensely aware of the air. Not a breath of wind moves through it. Perfect absolute stillness. It is God.

I tiptoe through the wet grass not wanting to break this mood. It is reverent. Holy. The pool of light from my lamp leads the way. It is absorbed into the night leaving me inside a bubble of gentle illumination. It is perfect soft light. It is holy and for a moment so am I. But I am not alone. My light has disturbed a resting goose who startles and makes it known that he is not pleased by my presence. His honks and wings in flight carry through the stillness and across the water that continues to sleep. My heart races for a moment. The goose’s call quieting long before the thump thump thump of my pounding heart.

And then it returns. The stillness. The calm. God. I tiptoe across the wet grass. My own presence disturbing me. How odd it is. I want to be absorbed into the air; the moisture; the dewy grass. I am one with the night. It is a gift. It is perfect. It is God.