Tag Archives: spiritual practice

Healing Home

Gratitude, seasons, spiritual practice, spirituality, , ,

Every morning, the first thing I do is come downstairs, open the blinds and thank the Creator for my view of the trees and creek. The lush, varying greens of Summer are a favorite, although those first explosions of Spring also take my breath away and the white etchings of snow-covered winter branches are the highest form of art, and the brilliant orange, yellow golds of Fall are ridiculously spectacular.

This weekend marks 13 years of living here, and I have loved the view each day of those many years.

Opening the blinds is my morning prayer. I’ve woven many forms of continual prayer into this home.

How many hours have I spent on the deck, watching the many busy chipmunks, the albino squirrels and their common grey cousins, the cardinals and woodpeckers and occasional hummingbird?

How many moments of crisis or heartbreak have I paced the driveway, arms raised to the trees, imploring their guidance and protection?

Often, I place my hands on the walls and say thank you.

Some evenings, when I’m walking up the stairs to bed, I see myself doing so throughout time, imagine my ghost gliding up and down the stairs into infinity.

Echoes of a little girl, friends and family gathering, Christmas carols fill each room.

Is it unhealthy to love a home so much, an apartment I don’t even own, a simple, aging duplex in the city?

The basement has a cupboard where my dog liked to sleep. The crayon sign my daughter made proclaiming his private space is still scotch-taped to the door. He died upstairs as I held him and I can point to the spot out front where he raised his head and luxuriously breathed in the autumn breeze for the last time on his final walk.

Today I swept the back deck, also a practice of prayer, and then lifted my eyes to the cobwebs reaching up the corners of the building, around the windowsills. Old and catching leaves.

I swept them down with satisfaction until I saw a spider scurry away and then another. Then I continued sweeping but with un-ease filling my gut as I took down their homes, maybe even killed them. This is part of the prayer, the attention to each moment, how I affect each being around me, how I am affected by each being, each place.

This place, my home for 13 years, has held me with a loving energy throughout all the joys and suffering that a decade-plus can bring. I’m a big weirdo, a sappy cornball – I know! But this home has nurtured my contemplative spirit more than any other place on earth.

Thank you, Creekhouse.

Imagine a Waterfall

Gratitude, spiritual practice, , , ,

Imagine yourself on a sunny day standing in a waterfall. The water is warm but refreshing. It cascades and envelops you, filling you with love and deep peace, washing away your thoughts and revealing an expansiveness that flows from your soul. This water is God.

You can imagine God as a being who created the world, a father, a mother, a web of energy interlocking us, a waterfall seeping into you. Any form of what I call God or you call Oneness, the Universe or Mystery comes from the imagination and yet is real, coming alive through sacred experiences and stories.

Some of us have been lucky enough to experience moments of true peace, true oneness, true joy, connection, knowing. We name this experience – I name mine God. The experience becomes the touchstone of our faith. It carries a feeling so profound that it shifts our understanding of all life, our life, all that is. It orients us deeper into love and gratitude.

We want to tell others about it, to share the experience but we don’t know how. How to put words to Mystery without sounding trite? Love, peace, blah, blah, blah. But we try, I try, I’m trying now with this little blog, with the children and teens I work for at church because I hope more people open to this experience.

And I’m trying to do it while being real. I experience God and the centeredness that comes with it – but I also experience irritation, fear, depression. Sometimes I’m thoughtless, impatient, rude. Plus, I’m a Southside Chicago girl at heart –  I talk rough, am too confrontational, have a dry, dark sense of humor. I’m rebellious.  I’m still me.

I also have this waterfall of sacredness that I sometimes notice enveloping me. I draw from it even in these scary times of disease and distancing. It helps me be kinder, less fearful.

I hope you can draw from it too.

Sparks & Passions of 2019

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2019 ignited the energy of my long-held vision to a fever pitch, and as anyone within earshot of me knows too well, I was on fire with passion to bring this vison to life. Many hours and days and weeks were spent seeking funding – mostly through grants – and well, none of it panned out.

I am trying to exercise patience and faith that the seeds will still germinate.

I am trying to not lose heart.

Because, oh my God, this vision, this thing I see every time I enter a beautiful open interior space and makes me have to sit down and catch my breath –  this thing that will feed hungry young souls – is a vision I am honored and humbled to have and I pray that I don’t blow it by not being savvy enough to bring it to life.

Sigh.

There were successes too. I facilitated my first 3-day retreat. Later, my first online 5-day retreat. The response exceeded my expectations, validated my mission and yes – boosted my ego (something to keep in check!)

2019 also fused my youthwork experience, my spiritual work and my fervently feminist sensibilities in fun new ways.

Invited to lead a workshop for Catholic middle and high school confirmation students, I framed it on the life of brilliant mystic Hildegard with the message of breaking beyond misogynist, homophobic barriers and tapping into your own brilliance and connection to God.

Invited to lead a session for Catholic middle school girls, I began with the “secret” that Mary is a story to pay attention to – not because she was a virgin, that’s an archetype that can and should be separated from her sexuality – but because she paid attention, then questioned and then courageously, knowingly said yes to bringing the Creator’s love into the world.  

Ah, those were the opportunities, the professional moments that lit up my 2019!

Then late in the year, the most unexpected opportunity: leading the youth program of a Baptist church in my neighborhood. Wow, I did not see that coming! They were seeking creativity and spiritual depth and their feminist, LGBTQ+ worldview matches my own. The kids and teens have already shown up in the background of my nighttime dreams – I take this new charge very seriously and humbly.

The pic of me holding my grandson captures the spirit of my 2019. Full disclosure, folks: my interior reaction to news of my 20-yo-daughter becoming a mom did not perfectly match my jubilant exterior. But, at the ripe old age of 50 and with the encouragement of friends, I finally learned to take the unexpected in stride, to let go of what I cannot control, to reach out only in love, to cherish each moment of connection no matter how small.

The rewards of practicing those lessons have been FAR greater than I deserve. L fills my heart with his funny, happy bright spirit. The loving attention he receives from my daughter and her partner soothes my soul and often (I don’t think she knows this) brings me to tears. I am always grateful to be invited into their lives.

L’s smile lit up each of my most special days of 2019.

Where Are YOU in the Sacred Stories of Advent?

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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 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 did the same thing with the Santa’s Workshop pop-up scene that sprang to life when I opened our Ronco Christmas album cover. Both these imaginings were how I felt “The Christmas Spirit”

When I grew up, I experienced some heartbreaks that made the Christmas season too painful and I avoided much of it. Adopting my daughter and getting to play Santa for the first time dissolved those pains and I turned the car radio to the Christmas station. When O Holy Night played, I cried through the whole song knowing I was part of the weary world who at long last was given a thrill of hope.

Photo Credit Below

I unpacked the manger set from my childhood and imagined myself into the scene again – but now the rich metaphors of the annunciation, nativity and epiphany unveiled truths of my own life. These Christmas stories – together with long winter nights and a longing for the sun – are a powerful gateway into a deep 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 around me.

Now I am a new grandma with a precious baby, a daughter and a son-in-spirit to love until my heart explodes. When I held my newborn grandson fresh from the womb – the 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 the 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 beautiful new ways of exploring these truest yearnings of the human heart.

It is from this experience with the stories of Christmas that I created the Spiritual Imagination and the Nativity Series at Loyola Spirituality Center in St Paul starting Dec 4th, 2019. My intention is to carve out a time and space for participants to explore their own Christmas imaginings using music, art and guided reflections. Click the link for more info and to register.

Even if you’re not able to join us, I invite you to spend some quiet time with the sacred stories of the season exploring the rich metaphors they offer.

Middle Photo Credit: Cosmic Birth/Sacred Moment in Time ©Mary Southard marysouthardart.org Courtesy of Ministry OfTheArts.org All rights reserved

Healing Family Spirits

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Let’s talk family healing.

I’m very slowly making my way through the book It Didn’t Start with You by Mark Wolynn about how family trauma is passed down through generations.

Did you know that when mice are given an electric shock (mean scientists, I know) every time they smell cherry blossoms, their descendants TWO generations later will jump at that smell – even though it was only their grandparents who experienced that trauma! Lots of other real life human examples too (but that one intrigued me.)

Then I think about the state of our world -and how maybe all the unresolved family and ancestral trauma everyone’s lugging around is reaching a boiling point.

Would the world be different if more of us took responsibility for healing the wounds of our own families? Connecting with the family spirits – living or dead, imagining what we know of their lives, offering compassion, acknowledging their grief, anger or regret that we blindly carry inside ourselves -and then doing the work of healing.

Not turning a blind eye to what we pass onto our own kids, pretending everything is fine or feeling victimized or holding grudges against certain relatives or projecting judgments onto other people’s families – or any of the other ways we sidestep the hard work of our own healing – but actually doing the inner work, facing the family demons buried within.

Warning – it’s really hard! Lots of tough stuff to face, our own shadows, deep grief and pain we don’t want to see. So much easier to just stay in our comfort zones with good enough.

Maybe that’s why there’s so much anger, anxiety, depression choking the air these days.

WHAT DO YOU THINK? – can you see how trauma has rolled down through your family?

Do you think personal healing affects the larger world? (whether or not you have kids, or they’re grown or not?)

Imagining into the Sacred Season

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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.

Middle Photo Credit: Cosmic Birth/Sacred Moment in Time ©Mary Southard marysouthardart.org      Courtesy of MinistryOfTheArts.org                All rights reserved

Celebrating the Eclipse Spirit Full Style

darkness and light, seasons, spiritual practice, , ,

Yesterday’s eclipse was magical. Did you feel it?

I didn’t look.

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.

It was a magical eclipse.

How did you mark this significant day?

Eclipse photo credit: (NASA/Aubrey Gemignani)

Depressed? Connect!

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Depression is disconnection.

Disconnection from:
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.

Ready or Not, Here is 2017

seasons, spiritual practice, , ,

Who knows what triumphs and struggles the new year will bring? Beyond our individual plans and goals, 2017 is threatening frightening political and social changes, the level of which remains to be seen. Now is a good time to ask what our role will be in the year ahead, both in our personal lives and in our communities.  

I’d like to share something that I learned in 2016 which is helping me answer this question.

In early 2016, a close family member landed in the hospital for nearly two weeks after a frighteningly reckless action. That was the beginning of a months-long nightmare that somehow lead to an ideal resolution beyond the limits of my imagination. My loved one is now doing well.

Looking back on how the horrible ordeal turned into a blessing, I see that I had a little control over whether the outcome was tragic or joyous. Very little control, but I never lost sight of it. I could influence my loved one, perhaps expand or contract some of her options, but not control her. Therefore, I packed my little amount of control with clear, focused intention. The rest I let go, which gained me unfavorable judgments by others, but ultimately allowed the ideal resolution to present itself. In other words, I found the balance between acting with intention and being open to unforeseen possibilities.

How did I find this balance? Meditation, prayer and spiritual guidance made my intuitive voice loud and clear, gave me the strength to follow my intuition in an unpopular direction and guided me in the ebb and flow of action and letting go.

My new year’s message is therefore a reminder that you can influence the circumstances of 2017, but you cannot control what will happen. Be decisive about your intentions, use spiritual practices that strengthen your intuitive voice and seek the balance between taking action and being open to the unexpected.

Let’s do this and make 2017 a year filled with peace, justice and hope for us all.  

Appreciating the Darkness (Or Happy Holidays!)

advent, darkness and light, Gratitude, seasons, solstice, spiritual practice, , , , ,

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.

20161123_0131116
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.

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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
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.

This turkey is happy to be alive and on my car.
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.

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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.

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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.

How do you appreciate this time of darkness?