Timeless Truth

Slowly, slowly I am revisiting my desert journals and bringing the pages to light. The following words were written the day after climbing Mt. Sinai while continuing our visit at St. Catherine's Monastery.

9.27.10 Early morning

Time does strange things here, and we haven't even gone into the raw wilderness yet. We lie wrapped in cocoons of comfort - warm beds, air-conditioning, a roof over our heads. We are wandering, yet... Something ties us here. What? What do I mean? Let go. I'm tied to my watch and the sense of a certain number of hours of sleep I need. I am tied to the group and the roommate who sleeps beside me. Tied to the convention of the world - the rhythms of others.

I awoke sometime during the night and thought it was morning - thought my roommate was already up and in the shower. I felt rested and ready to start the day. Then I looked at my watch and saw it was still the middle of the night, so I "knew"/thought I should go back to sleep. A similar thing happened the night before. I awoke feeling as though I had slept for hours and realized it had been maybe one or two. Am I so stuck by conventions of time and space? What does it take to let go?

What does all this mean? In Paris, I found my own rhythms - some nights I watched movies until the wee hours. Others I slept early in the evening. Yesterday, a quick nap after climbing Mt. Sinai felt like ten hours of hard sleep. Is that the timelessness of which we speak? Where the telling of a story days before combines with the clicking of hiking sticks to become weaver's needles and our pilgrims' steps of today merge with centuries of others' who have gone before? Did our climbing footsteps encounter the imprint's of Moses? Was my hand holding the palm of an ancient Egyptian or perhaps even God herself when I pressed my fingers into the stone inside the pyramid?

The messages are myriad. Can I decipher them or am I called to let the mystery be? What is truth? Truth comes in moments. It came when I looked into the eyes of the Sinai Christ and know he beckons me. When my fellow pilgrim hours later described the same experience and in one moment we know and we are known. Truth comes when I hear our prayer warrior describe her call for us to have the angels lift us up when we are weary and I remember and know those angels were there. Truth arises when our resident yoga master subtly mentions @ Camelot - "Do you know why camel pose is called camel pose? It's not only for the hump, but also for the kneeling," and then I share with her my "camel" journey over the past months - struggling, breathing,being curious and ultimately having two beautiful camel poses the week before this trip. In that moment, she knows why she said those words to me and not someone else. We are united in ways we cannot fathom.

"I want to hear, and I want to be heard,

I want to eat, and I want to be fed,

I want to be made whole , and I want to make whole,

I want to be united, and I want to unite." Acts of John - Christ Hymn - 3rd Century CE

The longings of our heart cross centuries - cross time. Some say there is no such thing as time. The weaving of the tapestry - the carpet laid out before us by Abraham in his tent at Camelot. We are being woven together in a new story. This sweet band of pilgrims.

Have you ever experienced that sense of timelessness? Those moments of truth where words are not needed to 'Know'? Yesterday, a friend asked me what was the gift I received in the desert. Timelessness was the word that rose to the top. Timeless Truth.

photos ©lucy:

view from St. Catherine's courtyard
Sinai Christ
Abraham's tapestry

Shadow

You must make friends with the shadow or you will die.

A simple sentence written on a marvelous, sunny day in the Sinai desert. You must make friends with the shadow or you will die. I continue to be amazed (although not particularly surprised) by the subtle and not-so-subtle ways that messages I gathered while on pilgrimage continue to follow me home.

The contrast of landscape and weather between fall in the Pacific Northwest and anytime in the desert couldn’t be much greater. We are experiencing deluges of blowing rain. My feet are already threatening to grow webs and the shadows come in the form of muted grays everywhere instead of pockets of charcoal tucked inside sun-soaked rock formations. It is a time of transition from one season to another, from Africa to North America, from spaciousness to city, from ancient wisdom under each footstep to modern tugs for my attention at every turn.

I had a particularly difficult week last week and fortunately already had a session scheduled with my spiritual director. I went in with blank check in hand hoping she had more free time available, because I was certain I needed to spend the day unpacking with her. Alas, we kept to our hour session, but the work continued long after I left her home. Stopping at a nearby park, I pulled out my journal and while watching the turning leaves drift across my path, I let the words flow onto the page. Somewhere tucked inside the outpouring were these words: “Face my own shadows – aloneness – failure – incompetence.” I might as well have added “or you will die.”

Leaving Volunteer Park, I went the “wrong way” and while circling back around, I saw a beautiful golden retriever tied to a post where he was surrounded by lunch pails and pint-sized jackets. He was clearly the watcher for his children who were inside the building doing their own exploring. My heart tugged and I automatically pulled the car over and got out to greet him. He was the risen image of my dear old boy, Curry. He let me pet his coat and stroke his belly as if we’d been old pals forever. I gazed into his chocolate brown eyes and for a moment was lost in time as his unconditional love washed over me. Tears formed as I remembered the grace and care my companion of 13 years had offered to me without reservation. Curious to know who I had just met, I reached under his neck for his dog tags while asking, “What’s your name boy?” Turning over the silver medal, the name appeared in bold letters: SHADOW.

Need I say more? The message was clear to me – my own shadows long for unconditional love and care. They don’t deserve to be dismissed or shoved aside just because they’re uncomfortable. Desert? Rain-soaked earth? The message is still the same. I must make friends with my shadow or I will die.

Today I invite you to consider the places tucked in the shadows of your being that are waiting to be befriended. Today would be a great day to give your shadow a little light – no matter where you live ☺.

I'm Joining the Abbey for Advent!

Fall has settled nicely into the Pacific Northwest and with that our thoughts begin to turn toward the holidays. It is with great pleasure and excitement that I announce my newest collaboration with Abbey of the Arts. For those of you near and far, here's an opportunity to enter into the season of Advent alongside me and a host of inspirational artists. I invite you to peruse the following information and consider giving yourself this gift of online retreat.

Early Registration is now open for Abbey online classes!

Birthing the Holy: An Online Creative Journey through Advent and Christmas
November 28, 2010 – January 9, 2011
Program fee of $125 includes weekly reflections and daily emails by Christine Valters Paintner on six themes of the creative journey, plus 10 songs by River's Voice, guided movement prayer videos by Betsey Beckman and her storydance of the Annunciation, and facilitated SoulCollage® experiences with Kayce Stevens Hughlett (aka lucy).

Join us for a six-week online retreat in everyday life for the seasons of Advent and Christmas. Let this winter be a transformative journey of deepened commitment to your creative practice.

Pre-register before November 1st and receive a free copy of Crossing the Threshold: New Year, New Beginnings.

Click HERE for more information and to register. Hope to see you there!!!

Bedouin Empress

My posts have been long and filled with my journey to Egypt. I’m finding it nearly impossible to drift away from that place for very long – nor do I want to move away from it. As you might imagine, many things were stirred in me and it is in the “unpacking” that I find even more depth.

Recently, my group work has revolved around the archetypal energy of the empress and/or sovereign. There has been much conversation and exploration about what it means to embrace one’s inner sovereign. A question that seems to arise time and again in a “First World Country” (if I even know what that means) is the idea of how easy it is to claim sovereignty, power, health, privilege, etc. when these things surround us in abundance. What would happen if I were poor? Could I still embrace a sense of wealth?

Last week, when talking about the Empress and these questions were posed, one “Empress” became fully present in my mind. It wasn’t Queen Elizabeth or Michelle O’Bama or Melinda Gates, but rather a Bedouin woman I met in Egypt. By most standards this woman would be considered poor and living in poverty. But I had to ask myself the question, does she think she’s poor?

I encountered her as we were leaving the desert and dropping our Bedouin cook off at his home. The jeep I was in arrived later than the rest and we were asked not to disembark due to time constraints. The pull to leap from the car and mingle with the children, goats and others was strong and only our guide’s firm request to stay put kept us all in the car. However, in the brief moments we waited, this woman – indefinable in age 50? 80? 100? - approached our vehicle and reached her hand out to each one of us. Language was unnecessary as she took my palm in hers and offered me the gift of her eyes. This woman is an Empress – one who stands solidly in who she is, invites others into her realm and does not know the meaning of scarcity. She is sovereign over her world and makes sure that those within her kingdom are welcomed.

She has given me much pause to consider what my own inner Sovereign looks like and what she values. Is it jewels and extravagance? Even that is hard to ask, because my definition of those two things is shifting. The jewels I value most right now are a few stones, a fossil and a piece of coral. Extravagance is resting under a billion stars with only a sleeping bag to shelter my body. And my Empress? Well… her sovereignty lies in a castle that looks quite different from the fairy tales.

Ponder alongside me, won’t you… Where does your Sovereign reside? What are the jewels that wrap your Empress or Emperor? How do you define wealth?

photos ©lucy
bedouin girls
empress lucy & her noble, bella
bedouin palace

A New Silence...

9.24.10

Today was a day spent learning of the reverence and preparation for death and ending with the celebration of new life through marriage. Two weddings graced our presence as we moved from the Pyramids Park Hotel to Novotel. In between were times of laughter, illness, crowded spaces, ancient wisdom and miles of forged friendships.

We started the day at the Pyramids of Giza. Pinching ourselves, we couldn't believe we were standing on the ground of the Pharaohs. The massive structures rising out of the rocky sand. How DID they do that? Three large pyramids flanked by three smaller for the wives and three more for the mothers.

Camels and Tourism Police surrounded the perimeter while peddlers hawked their wares for "very good price." Hany, our guide, had warned us to be on guard here. That "very good price" quickly went up and thievery was not uncommon in this clime. As we walked from the bus toward our first destination, an earnest and kind Egyptian handed me a small blue scarab then asked how many children I had and handed me another for my 2nd child. As I continued my walk, he handed me more gifts for my son and daughter as I graciously thanked him while keeping my stride. Finally he was through handing me presents and I kept walking. Then the quiet request came, "Just a small amount of money, please?" "No, thank you," I replied and handed back the treasures. Our dance of commerce had ended with no monetary exchange and only the memory to remain in my heart.

After viewing the Great Pyramid, we went to the vista point and saw the six pyramids all in a row with the mother's tucked safely behind their sons. Hany filled us with details and facts and then Regina invited us to pause with the silence. Pilgrims spread out, some sat, some stood, all gazed. Sitting side by side on the retaining wall, Regina and I let the breeze lift our spirits as we felt the feathers of Ireland and eternity swirl around us.

The magic continued as it was time to visit the inner chamber of the Second Pyramid. Well-prepped by our guides, we knew it would be a cramped and potentially strenuous path. Nine brave souls entered the opening toward the tomb. Crouched in a slumped walk to fit under the 4-foot ceiling , my head gently bounced off the ancient stone until I found a more pleasing rhythm to make my way up the ramp. Following my roommate, Deb, we kept a nice pace while still pausing to touch the solid walls where so many hundreds of thousands had gone before. A few yards crouched and a few standing up until we entered the sacred chamber.

Barren except for an empty sarcophagus and a few modern lights, it felt like we had entered the center of the earth. No claustrophobia for me, only a beckoning from the far wall to place my hand-print in the space where others hands had lain. Next followed my other hand and then my forehead until I was locked in a slow dance with this ancient mystery. The quiet was profound and immense and it held for several moments - long enough, in fact, that I finally opened my eyes to see if everyone else had evaporated. Yet there stood my fellow compatriots - Deb, Mary, Don & Marie-Josee. We had been granted a miracle moment. With thousands of tourists outside, this handful of pilgrims were offered the gift of silence and connection inside this ancient wonder of the world.

I slowly moved around the perimeter, stopping by the open burial crypt and proceeding clockwise until I stood before the very place of my slow waltz. There above the invisible impression where my forehead touched the cool stones was the word I heard the day before inside the Alabaster Mosque - BE. Just a few unremarkable letters were inside this sparse space, and I chose to stand below - unbeknownst to me - the very letters that chose me the day before. Blessed Be. God is in this place. I tapped Arleen (who had drifted in) upon the arm and showed her my confirmation. Goosebumps ran down both our spines. The magic of this place continued...

Finally, the still small voice inside me said, "Enough" and I knew it was time to go. Just as I exited the chamber and started down the narrow ramp, hoards of Japanese tourists pushed past me and I knew the silence of the chamber was no more. Blessed be. O'Donohue's words were perfect for this day, "A new silence goes with you..." And the serendipity continued as I read the bookmark given by Regina that day:

"These sites that call forth reverence and awe and humility and wonder, we make them sacred, and the ancient ties are never lost, the oldest voices calling from within the stones." James Houston

What are the sites that call forth reverence, awe, humility and wonder for you today? It certainly doesn't have to be inside a great pyramid. Remember, a new silence goes with you each day...

photos ©lucy - sites of Giza