On a recent night, I sat by some trees on Lake Michigan, the waves crashing so loud on rocks below me I’d have to yell to be heard over them. Fireflies flashing all around, clouds and stars swirling above, crickets chirping between crashes, mosquitos buzzing. A calm night with only a gentle breeze yet so much noise and movement: the bugs and birds, water, even the stars seemed loud.
I dissolved into it all. Nature so loud and always moving, changing. Not still. I’m part of nature, always moving, changing, transforming. My mind swirls with clouds and stars, flashing thoughts, nerves buzzing, moods loudly crashing and slamming into awareness.
It’s all one dance and I’m part of it.
Night after night, day after day, for 13 days, I experience the water’s constant change. Exploding loud and crashing waves or gentle ripples like a rocking cradle. Sometimes bright blue or shimmering green or moody grey.
I am a moody, moody person. Even by myself, on retreat, no conversations or internet or news and here comes a crash of joy, a wave of anger, a ripple of sadness. Ha! How freeing to let the waves roll over me, laugh at their bluster, see them dissolve on shore leaving behind either nothing or maybe a pebble, a rock, something to take a look at and see what its message is.
Every day and night for 13 days, I watched, prayed to, swam in and learned from the water. And not just any water: MY water.
How funny to be a visitor to this town in Wisconsin, my first time here, and yet this is MY lake, the Lake Michigan water that flowed through the pipes of my Chicago childhood home, hydrated and cleansed me. The sprinkler water my friend and I jumped through on hot summer days. The lake I told my problems to as a teen as soon as I could drive the 20-some minutes there, or as a young adult when I lived close enough to walk. The lake I swam in with friends or cried to alone. The very lake my grandfather fished, my great-grandparents lived by as soon as they got off the boat from Poland.
We recognize each other, the lake and I. This lake knows me, it knows my people, my ancestors and where I come from. It shows me that everything moves and changes, my mind buzzes, my moods come and go. Yet at my core, I am recognizable through the ages, a consistent presence, an essence, a stillness beneath the noise.
I took this photo of my grandson Lucas yesterday. His hand is on
the shoulder of a young Target shopper he just met. Lucas had enjoyed sitting
inside that cube for a few moments, then saw a little person walk by and said
“Come in here, baby.” The other boy then hid behind his mom’s legs and Lucas
went after him. “Come in here, baby,” he said, his tone not demanding or
forceful, but gentle and encouraging.
“He’s really shy,” the mom explained to me. “Does yours have
siblings?” she asked, wondering where he gets his social confidence. “Not until
next month,” I said.
Before finding the hollow cube, Lucas excitedly pointed out to me all the spectacular things on the shelves, the many colors he knew, the faces he recognized like Baby Shark and Mickey Mouse. Both his joy at the visual delights and his exuberance in sharing them with me (“Gammy, look!” “Gammy, look!”) melted my heart.
I know many toddlers are this way, fully present in the moment, able to find joy in the simplest things and eager to share them with others. But I know this specific toddler, see his unique preciousness in the way he is so attentive and caring, the way he looks into my eyes that peer above the mask I must wear in the store. As Grammy, I recognize his sensitivity, the preciousness of his heart as similar to his mother’s.
Soon enough, he’ll be lured out of the joy of each moment and learn to numb his exuberance with the screens in front of him. I know this as someone who spends plenty of time with screens of my own. I also know the new baby sister will no doubt be challenging, and that his devoted Mama worries about his feelings being hurt when her attention is divided.
I see these hearts, Lucas’ and his mother’s, the precious unique spirits we each enter into the world with – and then I see how the harshness of life, of being human among other humans hurts us and dulls our senses, our ability to feel the Sacred all around us. Oh, how part of me would love to preserve forever Lucas’ sweetness just as it is right now. After all, Lucas will probably have times of feeling sad and unseen when Sister comes, and the thought of that pokes at me, and certainly worries his Mama too.
Then I look out my window to see the young brother / sister duo
that live next door exploring their yard together or playing ball on the
driveway. Lucas will have moments of delight in playing with Sister, important
lessons learned while sharing with her. He and Sister will have a relationship
that further shapes him, maybe transforming the pure sweetness of his heart
into an even richer capacity to love, a capacity far more expansive than my own
heart, which grew up without siblings.
So I look at this photo of sweet Lucas, his hand on the shoulder of a shy little boy, his beautiful spirit shining and I remember that the whole point of being human is to be present to the full range of experience – simple and complicated, joyous and heart-wrenching – to experience all of it and then somehow find our way back to our own unique precious spirit with an even deeper capacity to love.
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.
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.
Transformative moments like Goodall describes take place in the spiritual imagination, where image, story, music come alive and point towards a reality beyond what we can see. Creative humans purposefully designed cathedrals – as well as Aztec dance, Hindu altars, Christian passion plays – as invitations into Spirit. There was a time when children grew up seeped in these invitations, when societies gathered to express wonder and awe for creation, gratitude to Creator.
Philippe Wojazer / Reuters via nbc news
Today, children grow up seeped in invitations from advertisers and corporations pointing them not towards Spirit, but towards improving physical appearance, owning material things. Is there meaning beyond our material existence? Increasingly, we tell our children “no.” Churches are failing to spark the spiritual imaginations of younger generations as evidenced by declining membership. This failure can be linked to escalating rates of teen anxiety and depression,
as numerous studies find that the most important factor in preventing teen mental health issues is an “inner sense of a living relationship to an…ultimate loving, guiding life force.” 2
For Goodall, this inner sense was sparked by her epiphany in Notre Dame. How can we spark such epiphanies in our children and grandchildren today? Let’s be purposeful and creative as we invite them into a reality beyond the material and into Spirit. After years of listening to what is on the hearts and minds of hundreds of young people, I have ideas about how to do this and you probably do too.
I invite you to join our Spiritually Guiding Young People group that will meet monthly starting Nov 1 at Loyola Spirituality Center in St Paul to share ideas and keep each other focused on this important work.
[2] Miller, Lisa, and Teresa Barker. The Spiritual Child: The New Science on Parenting for Health and Lifelong Thriving. Picador/St. Martin’s Press, 2016, p 5-9 and p 208-209.
(Throughout this post, I use different names for the conscious sacred energy that exists for many people: God, Higher Power, Spirit, Universe, Divine Love, Source. Notice those names that resonate, those that annoy or shut you down)
When I was asked to lead a weekend retreat on Gratitude last winter, I knew right away I wanted to focus on Suffering – and how we can retain a grateful heart even when horrible things happen to us or those we love.
After all, it’s not very challenging to feel gratitude when everything is swell.
Telling people Suffering was my intended approach to Gratitude was often met with a blank stare.
Oprah and self-help/personal growth writers have done a good job teaching how a grateful attitude can change lives and bringing gratitude practices (gratitude journals, etc) to the mainstream.
For people who believe in a conscious sacred energy, gratitude goes beyond an attitude and becomes a prayer, a conversation with Source. Contemplatives seek to be in this conversation continually, able to praise Source in every moment…..even the rotten ones.
Sounds ridiculous to some people, but let me explain the nature of a contemplative’s relationship with Spirit. Here’s a fancy spectrum I made to show different kinds of relationship:
On the left are those who believe that God is in control of everything that happens. The poster child for this belief is the guy who CNN interviews every hurricane season to ask why he stayed put during the mandatory evacuation. “Because if God decides my number is up today, then my number is up whether I follow the evacuation or not!” You may or may not think this way- but you surely have met those who do.
On the right are those who believe in God, but do not experience God as active or present in their daily lives. They might believe the Bible is the word of God, follow God’s rules and expect to meet God in the afterlife but they don’t experience God as a loving, active presence in the here and now.
In the center are those who believe that God is in a living, two-way relationship with them. How I think of this is that
God/the Universe is constantly luring us to be our most authentic self, giving us signs,
nudging us towards alignment with our deepest values and living our unique gifts in a way that increases love, beauty and healing in the world.
In another post, I can describe HOW Divine Love communicates with us, lures us, gives us signs, etc… but for now let’s just say I believe this communication is continual, and my “job” is to try to be present to it as often as possible.
Being open to this continual conversation can keep us afloat even as we seem to drown in a miserable situation.
It helps to first understand that Source is not to blame for the misery.
The Source that sparked the birth of the Universe communicates with us but does not control us or our circumstances. The Source is Pure Love and pure love never controls, coerces or manipulates. Therefore, Source “self-limits divine power.”
This explains how Spirit does not cause nor intervene when humans are cruel to each other. Spirit is there trying to lure each of us away from war, hatred, abuse and towards loving one another.
Spirit is there comforting us when we suffer at the hands of others or from our own poor choices. We can hold onto this thread of love and genuinely feel grateful for it, even as we suffer.
(From a Christian trinitarian perspective, Source gave completely to us by embodying human form (serving as a living example of how to love while also experiencing human pain so that we know we are not alone in our human suffering) and the form of Holy Spirit (which continues to inspire, comfort, counsel and lure us into Love.)
What about suffering that stems not from the free will of humans, but from natural causes? Diseases, disasters, fatal mishaps…. how can Pure Love allow the cruelty of nature?
Pure Love is also the Creator, the spark that ignites the unfolding of the cosmos and sets evolution into motion. Divine creation has endless diversity – and one thing we can know for sure if we believe Creation reveals the mind of the Creator is that diversity is key to life.
Infinite diversity unfolding through creation (and perhaps all creativity) requires something important: chance.
“Biology wants a wild mix” is what a doctor explained to Heather Kirn Lanier in this powerfully profound essay. Lanier’s daughter was born with a debilitating chromosomal syndrome.
Chromosomes come together then pull apart in a process where a lot can go wrong – but this process is also what allows for the most random mix of ancestral chromosome pairs. In other words, chromosomal syndromes happen because of the same chance that allows for the greatest diversity between humans. (Lanier beautifully describes how she loves her daughter for being her unique self – syndrome and all, even though the syndrome causes suffering.)
No two people are the same. Even identical twins are born with different fingerprints because of random variations in how amniotic fluid swirls around them. Chance allows the biodiversity in our oceans and rainforests. It also allows cancers and hurricanes and lightening strikes.
The price we pay for the chance that creates our own uniqueness and the immense beauty of our wildly diverse planet and cosmos – is that we suffer.
(Lanier asks if we really want to be perfect, non-suffering robots and suggests what a soulless world that would be.)
In sum, suffering happens because of 1) free will which is necessary in love and 2) chance which is necessary for diversity.
Of course, I am not grateful for the pain of an excruciating migraine, or for my child’s sobbing grief or for a dear friend’s premature death. I am not grateful for terrible things happening, but I am grateful for Pure Love being alongside me as they happen.
At the very least, I am grateful for my present breath, and the one after that.
But we die! Why do we have to die?
Well, as a hardcore procrastinator, I wonder how much I would accomplish, create, do for others, if I knew I had infinity to do it. Seriously! I kind of appreciate having a dead- line (ha!) in which to add some love, beauty and healing to the world.
And to make me even more grateful for the breaths I still have.
Acknowledgements: This post owes much to the brilliant theological discussion about free will, chance and suffering in Sidney Callahan’s Women Who Hear Voices: The Challenge of Religious Experience as well as the above mentioned essay Superbabies Don’t Cry by Heather Kirn Lanier. There is also a nod to Richard Rohr’s writings on the divine unfolding of evolution.
During the breaking newscast of the Notre Dame fire, the words
“They were creating a giant prayer…” in reference to the creation of the cathedral caught my attention.
I cried.
I cried again later during another news report which said, “Firefighters directed much of their efforts towards saving the artwork stored at the back of the cathedral.”
It moves me deeply to know that my fellow humans value art, beauty and history to the point of risking their lives.
Years ago, I cried while watching a documentary about Afghan professors rescuing art from the taliban. And while reading about US soldiers rescuing art from the nazis.
These acts of heroism speak volumes to me about what it means to be human and what it means to care about the legacy we offer future generations.
But
the people who cried on 4/15/19 and put their resources and power towards saving Notre Dame,
my people – the ones of European Christian ancestry,
allow corporate greed to destroy God’s art.
Indigenous peoples go to court to save the Amazon from oil company greed. Image Credit: Mitch Anderson/Amazon Frontlines
Imagine the state of our planet today if
those who claim to believe that God created the forests, valued natural Creation as much as the Creation of our greatest human artists.
Imagine too the state of the world if we recognized the Sacred in every culture.
What if we saw God in the history and traditions of every race and continent? What if those saving Notre Dame did all they could to stop the destruction of the Sacred in all its expressions around the globe?
During yesterday’s fire, I was privileged to know that the wealthy and powerful shared in my grief, and were doing all they could to stop the destruction of the Sacred art and history of my own spiritual ancestors.
Today I ask what if the wealthy and powerful did all they could to stop the destruction of the Earth and of all peoples?
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.
Today is the feast day of Teresa of Avila, the extraordinary writer, mystic and nun of 16th century Spain. Her book The Interior Castle continues to influence my spiritual thinking and I refer to it often when clients see me for spiritual counseling.
Teresa describes a castle with seven rooms leading from the exterior to the interior as a metaphor for the soul and our movement towards the center where Source resides.
I find that Source can refer to a universal guiding force (God) and/or our own sacred essence (who we can be when fully living aligned with our values and gifts)
We move through the rooms by evolving from active prayer (conversation with Source / our sacred essence) to passive prayer (in the flow or in communion with Source /our sacred essence)
Teresa did not specify how to pray, other than to stress that we begin by talking with Source, not reciting learned prayers – but speaking to Love. Her lack of detail enables us to create our own methods. We can personify Source as a person – Father/ Mother or Jesus, for example – or we can imagine offering all of our thoughts, hopes and fears to the Universe. Seeing a beautiful tree, we can offer gratitude for such beauty. This conversation can progress until eventually we are in a constant state of experiencing Love. Teresa wrote, “Pray as you can, for prayer doesn’t consist of thinking a great deal, but of loving a great deal.”
The sequential nature of the castle’s rooms is important, for Teresa said, “If the foundation is on sand, the whole building will fall to the ground.” Those who try to rush ahead or skip steps in order to more quickly experience the ecstasy of communion with Source are deluding themselves with selfish desires and headed down a dark path. (I think about Teresa when I hear about motivational / spiritual events where people are enclosed together for long hours with lots of yelling or intense evoking of hidden shames so as to orchestrate quick, sudden “breakthroughs.”)
Self-knowledge is the first virtue of our journey as spiritual seekers. This is the awareness of the beauty of our own soul and of our capacity for union with Source. Experiencing this union creates a level of ecstasy so profound, Teresa believed that if we all knew this, we would all seek to reach it.
See what I mean? Montage of Teresa’s blissed out face in Gianlorenzo Bernini sculpture The Ecstasy of St Teresa of Avila.
Humility follows self-knowledge. As our conversation with Source progresses, our deficiency in loving-kindness becomes apparent. In fact, to think that we are sufficiently spiritually evolved is fatal to our spiritual life. Teresa wrote “While we are on this earth nothing is more important to us than humility.” Aligning our will with our sacred essence is a life long process that humans can never perfect, but that we can continually move towards. When we feel prideful or smug in our goodness, we are overlooking opportunities to be more genuine. Worse, we are more likely to judge the weaknesses of others. Teresa specifically warns of how a lack of humility leads us to judge and gossip about those around us. Anytime we start to think we are sufficiently aligned with our values it is time to be more honest with ourselves.
Likewise, forgiving ourselves for our shortcomings is also important and leads towards greater acceptance and forgiveness of the imperfections of others. It is a balancing act – recognizing we always have room for growth while accepting who we are in the moment. According to Teresa, having a spiritual counselor is an important part of this process. (Need one? Email me)
This is just a hint of the many wise gems of Teresa’s writing. If you read her books, it’s important to know that she wrote during The Inquisition when many thousands of women were tortured and burned at the stake for professing spiritual knowledge. This is why Teresa’s books are peppered with apologies for being a stupid woman and pleas to forgive her if she is wrong. This strategy worked – although briefly imprisoned she was spared persecution. Centuries after her death she was made a Doctor of the Roman Catholic Church – meaning in part that her writings are considered to have had great influence on the spirituality of Catholicism. There is good reason to deeply distrust the institution of the Catholic Church – that is obvious to many. There are also spiritual riches buried throughout its long history –Teresa of Avila’s writings among them – that I encourage you to discover.
Right now, we are the woman draped in roses in this painting. The trumpets are sounding for the dawn of the new year. 2017 crawls away. Soon, we will have no choice but to get up, get moving and create 2018.
But first, we rest in the liminal space of what was and what will be.
Perhaps my reflections from this liminal space will bring to mind gifts you received in the passing year…
In 2017, I joined the team of spiritual directors at Loyola Spirituality Center in St Paul, MN and listened to the spiritual journeys of people ranging in age from 18 to 67, from atheists to Christian clergy.
It’s hard to articulate just how much I love this work I do, how much I love each person who comes to my office or home to share glimpses of their heart.
While the outside world of 2017 was ugly on many levels, my work as a spiritual director keeps me tapped into the beauty of the human heart. In one way or another, each seeker reveals to me their earnest desire to be more… (genuine, balanced, whole, loving, mindful, thoughtful, open-hearted, joyful, close to the Divine, aligned with their true gifts and purpose and so on.)
It is this ache to embody the fullness of who we really are that is so beautiful, and I get to witness it daily.
Also in 2017, I spent months assisting a friend through her dying process. I walked her through her fears, held her during her final night and the next day I offered a blessing during her bedside service. I stayed there in her house with her loved ones all through the next day too, and when I finally emerged out into the public – a grocery store, to be exact – I was nearly knocked over with love for the first stranger I saw. It was weird, because at first I pictured this stranger dead, and then I saw his light shining within and all around him
and then my heart felt “we are exactly the same” – this man of a different age, race, gender and size than me – we all have these bodies that we carry around and we are all the same light.
I guess spending so much time in that veil between the physical and spiritual realm gave me a glimpse of this reality in a visceral, visible way. That is the greatest gift I received in 2017, and I credit the expansively loving nature of my beautiful friend who died.
In sum, 2017 cracked open my heart and more fully connected me to the hearts of others. That was not my goal or new year’s resolution, it is just what happened. Less poetic things happened too – financially, physically, etc – but my expanded heart and the gift of a vocation that makes it beat louder and stronger all the time keeps everything else in perspective.
What gift of awareness did 2017 bring you?
Happy New Year, Everyone and
may 2018 bring you closer to embodying the fullness of who you really are!
Are you interested in trying a spiritual direction session?
