Then around midnight, I was getting ready for bed when I heard the owls hooting.
They’ve been coming by this creek house for about a year now, the hooting loud even through airport proof windows. I finished what I was doing, taking my time.
Then I stepped outside onto the driveway, hearing hoots out front on the creek when suddenly something swept over me from behind, from the backyard. It swept over me and towards the creek (towards its owl lover, perhaps?) and in the rays of the street light I saw a feather drifting down, landing in the darkness, a small, slight feather I quickly retrieved.
After that, I stood on the front lawn for about half an hour, the blues long gone, the 2 owls flying to trees on either side of me, sometimes talking to each other, sometimes looking at me in silence.
Pandemic blues seemed all the smaller, more fleeting as I stood on the grass, in the dark, positioned between endless cycles, filling with ageless knowing, a part of infinite wisdom.
From The Wheel of Change Tarot by Alexandra Genetti
When I was a little girl, my December ritual was to sit alone in our living room beside the twinkling tree lights and imagine myself into the coffee table manger scene. I visualized myself with the shepherds underneath a Bethlehem sky full of angels. I sat there until the angels and the tiny God lying among the ox and cows felt real, became real to me. I wasn’t spiritually advanced, I had a similar ritual with the Santa’s Workshop pop-up scene that sprang to life when I opened our Ronco Christmas album. Both these imaginings were how I made myself feel “The Christmas Spirit”
When I grew up, I experienced some heartbreaks that made the Christmas Season feel too painful and I avoided much of it. Becoming a mother and getting to play Santa for the first time dissolved those pains. That first year, I allowed myself to turn on the Christmas radio station. I listened to O Holy Night in the car and cried through the whole song. I understood myself as part of the weary world who at long last was given a thrill of hope.
photo credit below
I resumed visualizations with the same manger scene from my childhood, but this time the rich metaphors of the annunciation, nativity and epiphany stories unveiled truths from my own life. These Christmas stories – together with long winter nights and longing for the sun – are a powerful gateway into a deeper part of my psyche. The part that holds my most painful wounds, my most naked need to be seen, valued and loved as well as my deepest capacity to fully love those closest to me.
This Christmas I go deeper still, as I am a brand-new grandma with a precious baby, a daughter and a son-in-spirit to love until my heart explodes. I recently held my newborn grandson fresh from the womb and angels singing at the Bethlehem birth became real for me in a whole new way, as did the desperate love of the parents and onlookers at that manger. My wounds still hurt, my needs still poke me with longing, my capacity for love keeps expanding – and the stories of Christmas and the returning sun still offer me new ways of exploring these truest elements of being human.
It is from this experience with the stories of Christmas and Winter Solstice that I am creating the Spiritual Imagination and the Nativity Advent Retreat at Loyola Spirituality Center in St Paul on Dec 1st, 2018. My intention is to carve out a time and space for participants to explore their own Christmas imaginings this season. Click the link for more info and to register.
If you’re not in the Twin Cities, I invite you to spend some quiet time with the sacred stories of the season exploring the rich metaphors they offer.
Halloween is more than a month away, and already the stores are cluttering our minds with Christmas merchandise. Dread of the imminent Holiday muzak is starting to make us sweat. But…what if Christmas 2018 was different? What if this year you reimagined the spiritual essence of the season?
What if……every time you saw a nativity scene, you visualized the baby as a metaphor for the mysterious, beautiful Spirit that is constantly birthing itself into the world?
…every time you heard a song with lyrics such as ‘O Come Let Us Adore Him’ you remembered to honor the Spirit that is already alive within you and within everyone you meet?
…every time you encountered any version of the Christmas story, you allowed it to serve as a reminder that although the Spirit is “forever being born in the human soul,” we must constantly make room in our awareness for it – emptying our minds of the clutter, opening to the reality of the present – because otherwise “there is no room in the inn for such a mystery?”
Using art, music, storytelling and guided visualization, we will:
reconsider the Nativity story – angels singing in the sky, refugee woman giving birth in stranger’s shed, lowly field men approaching in awe – as a metaphor for the moment when suddenly the Universe stops and loudly announces “The Spirit of love is here! Alive in the world! Incarnate!”
and
reflect on ways we can be like the wise men who followed their intuition and outsmarted evil so the Spirit could flourish.
What if the point of the Christmas story has always been that:
1) this mysterious, beautiful Spirit is already present “hidden inside of everything”
2) yet we’re still always waiting (longing!) to see it revealed in the world because we’re so clouded from the reality that Spirit is everywhere and already birthed inside of us?
After much imagining, planning and dreaming, my 50th birthday did not go as hoped.
I had been feeling under the weather for a few days, then woke up on the big 5-0 to a great intestinal purging – the likes of which I never before experienced. My mind, body and spirit were so preoccupied with expelling all contents that even the most pitiful of birthday excursions – going downstairs to watch tv – was more than I could muster.
I did have one birthday perk to lift my spirits however – dozens of sweet messages from friends near and far reminding me of 50 years well lived.
If I am going to spend time languishing from the plague – I am happy to do it on a day when so many loved ones think to reach out and send me some love.
Lesson 1: You can train yourself to view the Pepto-Bismol bottle as half full instead of half empty. The payoff is that crap will still happen but it won’t crush your spirit.
What does it mean that my second half of life began with a dramatic purging, purifying and detoxing?
Several friends turned 50 with me this summer, and we talked about each coming up with a theme to make the whole year special. I created a list of things I’d like to do while 50, but couldn’t think of a theme until the Universe hit me upside the head with this one:
Purging, purifying, detoxing
Hmmm. I don’t think it’s about purging physical items because I’ve never cared much about material stuff. I could certainly lose weight, but I’m a pretty clean eater and being fat doesn’t really bother me.
Something does resonate with me though when I think about purging old perspectives and thought patterns. A fresh perspective for the second half! I like that.
I’ll have to think about this some more after the plague’s residual brain fog and lethargy has lifted. Or maybe I’ll forget.
Lesson 2: Some people view unforeseen events as happenstance, and some view everything as happening for a reason. Either way, why not use these events as opportunities to uncover spiritual lessons in the metaphors presenting themselves? (Of course, if you can’t figure it out, that’s okay too.)
Last summer, I gave a eulogy for my friend Lisa who died after spending most of age 50 in hospice. My 49th birthday was filled with love, joy and gratitude for the gift of my friend and the gift of being alive.
This summer however, I approached my birthday feeling sad and a little hopeless.
Then I got sick. So sick I couldn’t get out of bed my whole birthday, and the next day I could only make it downstairs to the couch and then
the third day I could step outside into the fresh night air.
What a thrill it was to be outside after so many days indoors! I breathed the fresh air, listened to the crickets, looked up at the moon and felt Lisa smiling on me in a way that filled up my whole body.
Lesson 3: It is a great beautiful blessing to be alive.
So depression has been calling my name lately. Lurking, although not fully present.
I’ve been working through it with various practices (which I’ll share in a post if anyone’s interested) and reading about the spiritual gifts of these dark nights of the soul. Here are some excerpts from a chapter on despair in the book Healing Through the Dark Emotions: The Wisdom of Grief, Fear and Despair by psychotherapist Miriam Greenspan.
Depression, Greenspan says, is “unalchemized despair.” She points out that only in the last 60 years or so “have we started to consider depression as a medical condition.”
“In a culture that condemns despair, it’s hard to look at this emotion in a way that honors its dignity, power and wisdom. Viewing it as an illness beyond our control, we don’t have to feel blame for it. This lessens despair’s stigma and gives us some hope.”
“From the standpoint of almost every culture and time except this era in the United States, the psychiatric approach to despair would be seen as naïve or nutty. The idea that only cheeriness is normal has a distinctly Brave New World feel. It’s no wonder that despair, the darkest of the dark emotions, is virtually taboo in our society. Feeling this bad in a feel-good culture is transgressive; it goes against the grain in a culture of denial.”
I’m not afraid to be transgressive, ha.
“Women, the elderly, the disenfranchised and artists, among the most vulnerable to despair, might have something to contribute to the culture from out of their despair, rather than in spite of it. What gifts lie in these darker realms? And what about confronting the denied darkness of our culture and society.”
What if instead of just focusing on our medical history and length of symptoms, psychiatrists asked, “How is your depression connected to anger? Is there any relationship between your depression and things in your life that make you feel disempowered or without a voice?”
Greenspan writes “More than grief and fear, (despair) has a moral and social dimension that calls us to pay attention to and make meaning out of human suffering. Enter this dark night of the soul, insists the voice of despair. Look at the world’s pain without your usual protections…If you can bear your way through this night with patience, you will be moved to a muscular faith that has looked into the heart of darkness and emerged to affirm life.”
Greenspan illustrates the transformative process through stories of her own and her clients’ journeys through despair. Facing the anguish from her young daughter’s serious medical condition, for example, Greenspan allowed her grief to flow and entered into a deeper felt connection within the web of life of which she and her daughter are a part.
“Despair invites us to journey into the fertile dark. This is no trip to Tuscany where we walk the vernal hillsides watching the sun’s light on the landscape. It’s a journey to the dark inner core of our banished selves and our failures to create a humane world.”
“It comes with an urgent call to grieve our losses” our lost dreams and to “re-examine the meaning of our lives.”
“Transform yourself or be damned, the voice of despair seems to say.”
…every time you saw a nativity scene, you visualized the baby as a metaphor for a mysterious, beautiful energy that is constantly birthing itself into the world?
…every time you heard a song about the nativity, you used lyrics such as ‘o come let us adore him’ as a reminder to honor this energy that is already alive within yourself and within everyone you meet?
…every time you encountered any version of the Christmas story, you allowed it to serve as a reminder that although this beautiful energy is “forever being born in the human soul,” we must constantly make room in our awareness for it – emptying our minds of the clutter, opening to the reality of the present – because otherwise “there is no room in the inn for such a mystery?”
What if the point of the Christmas story has always been that:
1) this mysterious, beautiful energy is already present “hidden inside of everything”
2) yet we’re still always waiting (longing!) to see it revealed in the world because we’re too clouded from the reality that this energy is everywhere and already birthed inside of us?
Try listening to the story and all of its details – angels singing in the sky, refugee woman giving birth in stranger’s shed, lowly field men approaching in awe – as a metaphor for a moment when suddenly the universe stops and loudly announces that this energy of love is here! alive in the world! incarnate!
Behold! I bring you great news! The beautiful energy of love is here! Alive in the world! Incarnate!
And when an evil king tries to snuff out this loving energy – be like the wise person who followed their intuition and enabled the energy to prevail.
May each of you fully know the beauty that is already birthed inside of you.
Merry Christmas!
(All quotes come from Richard Rohr’s Advent Message video which can be found here.)
Instead, at its peak I lead a quiet meditation with a few friends. It felt wonderful to clear our minds, make space for the new chapter of the New Moon and absorb the celestial energy.
Before the peak, we feasted on sunshiny lemon ricotta cakes with blueberry moon sauce, turmeric yellow frittata, English cheddar with fig preserves, grapes, yellow watermelon, purple Izzy soda and Moscato wine. If the heavens give us a reason to celebrate, why not do so with colorful gusto?!
As the eclipse was ending, we dropped flowers into the creek and let the combined moon and sun energy carry our wishes into the future.
As each person is awakened to the sacred in all life,
the world is transformed.
“Celebrating Summer Solstice and Joining Loyola”
…During one summer of despair, I knew I had to dig deeper to find ways of connecting to the moment, and that is how I discovered what is now a favorite summer hangout – the outdoor community pool! I had taken my daughter there when she was little, but then when she became too cool for the pool, I got the urge to go alone one difficult day after work. I entered the deep end and then danced my own water ballet while kids splashed and screamed all around me and the sun beat down on my face. Something about the weightlessness of my body as I treaded and stretched as well as the otherworldly feeling when I swam beneath the surface made me feel especially connected to the moment and to my body, my spirit, my neighbors and my Creator. Going to the pool regularly became a part of my yearly summer rhythm. I let myself melt into the community waters and become one with all that is…..
self, others, the world around you and the great Mystery.
Medications and therapy ease the symptoms, but are not a cure.
You know that, right?
My guess is that every person reading this either takes, or knows someone who takes, anti-depressants and still experiences some level of depression.
Why? Because CONNECTION is the only path to relief.
Anti-depressants can give us the boost we need to get out of our ruts and seek connection,
but without that critical step – connection – there is no real end to the misery.
Need some ideas of what can connect you?
I have suggestions,
but the key is to do something mindfully,
meaning that you are present in the activity
rather than just trying to get through it or pass the time.
Connect to the moment.
Be present to the moment and clear in your intention.
If your intention is to connect with yourself,
then create something that releases your spirit onto a physical form – paper, clay, garden plot – even if just for your eyes only. Or move your body in a way that focuses your attention on how the air fills your lungs or the sun warms your face or each of your muscles pulls and releases.
If your intention is to seek connection with others,
then be mindful during your interactions with others of feeling tenderness for each person. Dare to have deeply honest and meaningful conversations.
If your intention is to connect with the world around you,
then be present to the clouds, the grass, the birds.
If you intention is to seek connection with the great Mystery,
then let your mind soar into the space of your ancestors, the moment you came into being, or the source of all Love and Beauty.
You can connect by:
gardening, painting, writing, running, playing, volunteering at a senior living center, dancing, volunteering at an animal shelter, taking a slow walk in the forest as the trees graciously fill your lungs, performing your own water ballet in the deep end of the local pool, meditating, volunteering at a crisis nursery, praying, heart to heart talks with an old friend, heart to heart talks with a new friend, doing something for the sheer joy of it, reading a book that questions reality, watching a movie that shows you life through fresh eyes.
What works for you?
If this sounds overwhelming or you don’t know what will connect you and you don’t have the energy to find out –
then get the boost you need from medication, therapy –
and then take that next step towards
connecting yourself to what brings meaning to your life.
I tend to be much more reflective during this time of the waning sun.
I journal, read through old journals, sort through old photos, paint, meditate, revisit favorite well-worn books, think about what I want to experience in the new year and so on.
The moon from my front porch
In other words, I go deep – reminiscing, ruminating, then reformulating how I want to spend my time on this earth, in this body.
It’s part of living in the rhythm of the seasons, keeping in step with the encroaching darkness.
How do you keep in step with the rhythm of the seasons?
Back on Halloween, my friends and I came together to honor Death, the dead and the season of dying and letting go. We can’t hide from Death, so we might as well face it together, with wine and good food, sharing by candlelight and even a little shouting under the moon.
My dining room on Halloween
Letting go was more than just a metaphor for me this Fall, as it was the time I had to let my daughter move into young adulthood and I adjusted to a newly empty nest. It was also when I accompanied a dear friend as she transitioned into hospice care.
Face it – we have no choice but to let go – of youth, health, loved ones, certain ideas about ourselves and what we’re here to do, rigid plans – all of it has to go sooner or later.
Ashes to ashes and so on.
From a Halloween Puppet Festival
Halloween confronts death, and the Fall season with its falling leaves reminds us to let go of whatever is dying in our lives.
Then November comes, Thanksgiving in the USA, and we express our gratitude for whatever has remained.
Grateful turkey
I let go as my daughter moved into her next stage of life and then on Thanksgiving she and I came together and celebrated our familiar, yet evolving relationship with the familiar foods and rituals of Thanksgivings past. It was nice.
Now Winter Solstice is approaching. The Holiday Season. The days are getting so dark and we are moving so far from the sun we fear we may never see it again.
This darkness drives us a little mad, and many start to maniacally shop, throw holiday parties and do all they can to be merry, merry, merry.
Some, like me, settle into the darkness, appreciating how snow silences the outdoors, how the quiet turns me inward until I find that the whole universe is inside of myself – the history of the world lies in wait to be found deep inside of me.
Oh, I like to make a little merry too. I go to some parties. I buy gifts. I sing loud in the car to Elvis’ Merry Christmas, Baby. I put up a big, fat Frasier Fir and fill it with lights and beads. I get out the ornaments made by my daughter, from my own childhood, and from my grandmother’s tree. I bake gingerbread cake.
I enjoy all of that. I like to put some light and sparkle into the darkness, and make it cozy with warm smells and familiar music.
But I also enjoy making plenty of time to settle into the darkness. Reminiscing, ruminating, and reformulating. Going down deep where I can feel the Divine and appreciate that the Sun is always there, even when we can’t see it.
My daughter will move away and still be my daughter. My friend will leave her body and still be my friend. I know these things by going deep into the darkness where true faith, peace and calm are found.
The sun will take command of the sky again soon, but in the meantime, let’s appreciate the darkness and all that we can find there.
