Archive for the ‘Inspiration’ Category

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Living Out Loud…Why?

July 15, 2010

On my makeshift altar, there is a card with a quote from Emile Zola that reads: “If you asked me what I came into this world to do, I will tell you: I came to live out loud.” I believe I did as well. I came to talk about real things. I came to share my heart and to feel yours.

I need that reminder as I contemplate why I write and share this blog with you all. It’s scary to do so. In the last three weeks, I’ve been on vacation and I’ve started a new job; the time off from writing was freeing. I felt free from the dread of Monday morning – Should I have hit send last night? Free from the feeling of vulnerability – Did I say too much? Will they think I’m crazy for baring my soul? And free from doubt - Who cares what I think?

But I want to connect. With you. With my spirit. With a deeper truth.

It’s the uneasy feeling of vulnerability that makes me regularly question whether I should keep doing this. Vulnerability seems like a very good thing to avoid! Other people don’t say these things about their lives out loud. That seems like such a safer and saner way to live.

I realize though that it isn’t just my writing that makes me feel that way – my whole life ethos is dependent upon a willingness to be vulnerable. I feel it walking up the aisle towards the Eucharist. Talking about the future with my boyfriend. Being authentic with his family. Starting a new job. Leading a contemplative workshop for my friends and their husbands. Hoping for something I really want.

When I seek safety instead of risking vulnerability, I need to ask in whose service am I writing and is the risk worth it? I believe that I live out loud in service to God.

Does fear of embarrassment or total mortification ever hold you back from giving what you have to give? What if that very thing you are afraid to share matters more than you know?

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Love in His Way

June 14, 2010

I’ll be on vacation the next two Sundays, including Father’s Day, so I’d like to take a moment to honor my Dad who died eighteen months and one day ago.

What I want to say is that I loved him and I miss him. I remember the slightly southern and humble yet strong sound of his voice on the telephone. When I spot older men with silver white hair who dress like he did–in khakis, short-sleeved shirt and white tennis shoes–my heart skips a beat. Then I remember he’s no longer here.

He walked with a limp he acquired from a hip injury when he was young. Deciphering just how it happened was a favorite past time for me and my four sisters–football injury! falling from a tree! tumbling down a ravine! No matter how many times he told the real story, we always forgot it. After one of his several surgeries, my older sisters made me up to look like I was 13 in a yellow jumpsuit, heels, and eye shadow, because 9-year-olds were not allowed to visit the hospital. For years, we played with the weighty, silver ball and joint device that was removed from his hip. It seemed like part of my Dad.
 
I first came to Christianity at 21 because, after several years of distance and fighting with my own father, I needed a loving Father figure and I found one. (Now I yearn to hear “Our Mother” as well, but that’s a theological discussion for another day.) I needed a Father who forgave me for not being perfect–or so I thought. It took years to realize that perfection isn’t the point of being here nor was it what my own Dad, or God, expected.

I learned that perfection is not the point of parenthood either. I came to understand that parents are simply human. I hear so many people talking disappointedly about their mom or dad not being all they wanted or needed. I did that. I held back love from my imperfect, human father. And I regret it.

Dad, I forgive you for not being perfect. Please forgive me for expecting you to be.

I’ve come to respect that my Dad loved in his way. That was all he could do and it was enough. Even when he wasn’t “there”, maybe I needed it that way so I could become what I was supposed to become. Maybe, I can love God as He or She or It is too, instead of needing God to be exactly a form that I understand and “approve” of in any given moment.

I pray that when I am a parent, my children will forgive all that I don’t fulfill for them. I trust that God and others will fill in where I come up short and my children will grow into their own.

God, since he’s with you up there or out there or somewhere, would you please thank my Dad for me? For his frustration at my ill-heeding his guidance. For giving so much of his life to us. For his loneliness, heartache, and worry. For his piano playing, Redskins watching, and commitment to his growth as a man that led to all of this for me. Please thank him for his love.

Dad, I love you. Happy Father’s Day.

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God in All Things

June 7, 2010

I recently learned that the pelican was an ancient symbol of Christ. According to Father William Saunders, “The legend was that in time of famine, the mother pelican wounded herself, striking her breast with the beak to feed her young with her blood to prevent starvation. Another version of the legend was that the mother fed her dying young with her blood to revive them from death, but in turn lost her own life… Given this tradition, one can easily see why the early Christians adapted it to symbolize our Lord, Jesus Christ.”
 
Just a few days after I read this, I saw these devastating photos of sick and dying pelicans on the Gulf Coast.
 
The medieval mystic Mechtild of Magdeburg wrote, “The day of my spiritual awakening was the day I saw-and knew I saw-all things in God, and God in all things.” Oil-covered pelicans. Oil-covered Christ. Both drowning in the Gulf. One not able to take flight for the weight of oil in her feathers; the other present in her agony. These photos are my awakening. 
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With apologies to my pet-owning friends, I admit that I usually care more about humans than animals. I also confess that the environment has not been an issue to which I’ve devoted my passion. Rather than washing my own lettuce, I buy salad in plastic containers. I waste water by turning the shower on before I’m ready to get in. I think only about what I spend on gas, not my consumption. That contributes to the demand for oil, which has led us to this disaster.
 
“The day of my spiritual awakening was the day I saw-and knew I saw-all things in God, and God in all things.”
 
Dear Mother Earth, I regret that I have taken you for granted and given you far less attention that you deserve and require. Dear Christ, I have not completely understood your presence in all things until I saw these suffering birds.
 
Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu said in a Speaking of Faith interview, “At the center of this existence is a heart beating with love.” I imagine that heart is breaking right now as it feels for its creation in the Gulf.
 
So what can we do now that it’s happened? Many of you are far more experienced than I regarding taking care of that with which God has entrusted us. I just took this Center for Sustainable Economy quiz to measure how much land and ocean my lifestyle requires. Yikes! Apparently we would need 4.35 Earths if everyone lived like I do! Here are their tips for minimizing our ecological footprint. Please share your own suggestions.
 
I believe we can also pray for the families of those who lost their lives, our sisters and brothers who lost their livelihoods, the ailing pelicans, the endangered whales, and the dying starfish. As Buddhist nun Pema Chödrön teaches in When Things Fall Apart, we can breathe in the pain of all of God’s creatures and breathe out whatever we feel would bring them relief.  
 
“The day of my spiritual awakening was the day I saw-and knew I saw-all things in God, and God in all things.”

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Art for the People

May 27, 2010

I had such fun last Sunday visiting the newly reopened and expanded Virginia Museum of Fine Arts (VMFA). Being in that magnificent space, experiencing excitingly new art and sacred ancient works, I understood the Museum’s ad campaign “It’s Your Art” and I was moved. It is indeed a people’s museum. 
 
It was such a different crowd and vibe – down-to-earth while also elegant – from what I’ve felt in some of our country’s more well-heeled museums. There were young people, old people, and families. There were children everywhere looking closely at art, talking about art, and laughing innocently about the pieces that made them uncomfortable. Best of all – there was no shushing going on!
 
Peeking into the third-floor restaurant, I was welcomed in by the maître d’, who informed me, “It’s your art” despite my shorts and t-shirt. Some people were in their Sunday finest; most were casually dressed like me, as if coming to the Museum were as common as going for a walk. And such a nice walk it is! The redesigned grounds are gorgeous and welcoming. Granted, I live just 3 blocks away, so I’m particularly fond of this beautiful new building in my neighborhood. Or rather, I am in her neighborhood, as she is definitely the Grand Dame sitting effortlessly and elegantly among row houses and magnolia trees.
 
Admission to the VMFA is free – always. I believe this is the very reason it feels like a museum for all of us. I was so proud of the Commonwealth of Virginia for investing in a museum for her citizens.
 
Years ago, I worked for the National Endowment for the Arts when we, the United States, were supporting visual artists, choreographers, theaters, dance companies, museums, arts education, and grassroots art in communities all across the country (at a mere 35 cents per taxpayer, per year.) It was an exciting, thriving agency at that time, with passionate, dedicated employees and volunteers. I worked in the dance program where I witnessed ballet and modern dance legends consider grants for new commissions, and I sat in on vibrant discussions on folk art, painting, American musical theater, and more.
 
Then the simmering culture wars heated to a fury. Controversy over works by Robert Mapplethorpe and Andres Serrano led to the forced resignation of then-NEA Chairman John Frohnmayer. I’ll never forget his gathering the agency staff for an emergency meeting, at which he sang “Simple Gifts” as his farewell. In the years following, our nation’s support for the arts was severely reduced. I’m grateful that the NEA’s budget allocation is on its way up again. I believe in private citizens supporting our national culture, but I also believe it is critical for our country’s heart and psyche that our government does so as well.
 
I’d like to say thank you to the corporate and citizen donors who made the VMFA’s fabulous new building and campus renovation possible. Thank you to those who have contributed collections and dollars for the Museum to acquire treasures for all of us to appreciate. You’ve inspired me to do the same. And thank you most of all to the Commonwealth of Virginia for believing culture is valuable and essential for her people.

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The Energy Between Us

April 18, 2010

A young woman recently told me she believes God is the energy between two people. Such wisdom and awareness! I appreciated the reminder that I must take responsibility for the energy I give to another.  
 
It isn’t easy. I quite regularly catch myself holding back or feeling competitive when interacting with someone new, as if the person across from me must prove herself trustworthy, before I will “love my neighbor as myself.”
 
The instruction, “So glorify God in your body,” (1 Corinthians 6:20) helps me in my quest to remain open-hearted in my interactions. When I allow God to course through my whole being – heart, mind, strength, and soul – I am much more able to extend “God-like” energy to others.
 
The yogi Paramahansa Yogananda writes in his mind-opening book, The Yoga of Jesus, “When one actually perceives the Divine Presence in his own soul, he is inspired with love for his neighbor – Jew and Christian, Muslim and Hindu – in the consciousness that one’s true Self and the Selves of all others are equally soul-reflections of the one infinitely lovable God.” (pg. 99)
 
Can I recognize God in another? Would I even try to see God in my enemy? What kind of energy would I create with her if I did? I find it hard enough to be conscious about my energy with those I love – to love them as completely as I would like to love myself. Therein lies the problem. If I love myself conditionally, I will love others the same way. Similarly, the judgment I feel toward others often reflects hostility within me toward myself.
 
In interpreting the gospel writer John’s account of Jesus speaking to a Samaritan woman (which a Jewish man at the time would not have done), contemplative priest Cynthia Bourgeault illustrates beautifully what can happen when two people recognize each other as Divine:
 
“Something he sees in her gives him the confidence to be so nakedly vulnerable; and something she sees in him gives her the confidence to follow his lead, to go higher and higher and deeper and deeper in herself, knowing far beyond what she could know from ordinary knowingness, knowing fully in the immediacy of her own heart. This quality of awareness is not something that comes from outside the moment. Rather, it grows up in the moment itself through the quality and energy of the heart connection.” (The Wisdom Jesus, pg. 11)
 
May we all give to each other and experience that kind of God energy.

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Peace

April 5, 2010

Of all the devotion, betrayal, strength, fallibility, sadness, and glory I heard and read about during Holy Week, the line that moved me the most was this: “Peace is my last gift to you, my own peace I now leave with you; peace which the world cannot give, I give to you.” (The Book of Common Prayer)
 
I’ve written often about doubt and uncertainty on this winding path of mine. It is challenging, at times, to feel lasting peace about earthly matters such as money, love, work, health insurance, family misunderstandings, and social injustice. Yet, in the midst of all or any of those, I’ve come to recognize the kind of peace that is a gift from God – “peace which the world cannot give.”
 
This peace I feel in my body. When the core of me is open, breathing, and calm, my mind feels safe to follow suit. In this state, I trust the peace of the certainty I feel – certainty that it all means something and God is there for me to lean on. It is the deep peace of forgiveness after confessing “things done and left undone.” It is the peace of saying, “Yes, I do believe in this mystery that ‘passes all understanding.’”
 
When watching and participating in Maundy Thursday and Good Friday services last week, I had to acknowledge that I believe in what this sacred practice represents. Seeing my clergy dressed in black with their backs turned to the congregation as they prayed was incredibly moving for me. I believe in the underlying story. So I say the words; I sing; I kneel; I eat the spiritual food. On Easter, it sank in deeper.
 
The judgmental, exclusionary, violent, sexist, neighbor-against-neighbor interpretations of Christianity have made me wary of Christianity as a whole. I’m grateful now to be learning a profoundly different take on what Jesus was teaching and to have found an understanding of God’s kingdom that I want to be a part of.
 
My mind still asks, “Am I for real? Is this devotion to and worship of God coming from my heart or my head?” I trust my body when she replies, “Yes. This is real for me. I feel this deeply. It has integrity.” Writing about and saying “Jesus” out loud is, at times, uncomfortable for me, yet being with him in private always feels natural. When I meditate, I invite him to sit with me.  He offers his hands. I take them. This is complete peace for me.
 
What brings you peace? If you’d like to share your own practice, please do so.

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Using Our Divine Might

March 29, 2010

“They shall all sit under their own vines and under their own fig trees and no one shall make them afraid.” Micah 4:4
 
A few days ago, my sweet 13-year-old niece wrote me that she wants to change the world for women and girls. Specifically, she intends to stop rape and sexual trafficking. I’m glad she’s on the case: recently I read of the horrific rape of girls, some just two or four years old, in post-earthquake Haiti.
 
“…And no one shall make them afraid.” It’s too late; someone has already made these girls afraid.
 
My niece asked for my help in creating her world-saving plan. In awe of her commitment and humbled by her request, I put what I’ve learned as a Girl Action Team coach to work and suggested  a few questions that can help her begin:  What strengths can she bring to creating change? What are the personal assets she can draw upon to help her? How would she complete the Girls For a Change phrase, “This world needs me because…?”
 
They are powerful questions to explore: Why does this world need me? What does God need me to do and become while I’m here? As I grow and the stability of the world seems to change on a daily basis, asking God these questions and listening for answers is an ongoing practice.
 
Why does this world need you? What is God asking you to do for the sake of your own soul and for the care of your fellow man? What role are you to play in the healing and further development of the world?
 
Yesterday was Palm Sunday, commemorating the day that Jesus rode humbly into Jerusalem to shake up an unjust world order. Even before I had any spiritual understanding of Jesus, he was, and remains, my social justice hero. He was a man of courage, integrity, humble confidence, conviction and deep regard for the dignity of all human beings, especially those who have neither vine nor fig tree to sit under.
 
Of course, he and his work were infused by a power far greater than his mortal form. He was both man and God. My understanding is that we are too.  No, we may not possess the level of enlightenment, selflessness and pure connection to the Divine that Jesus did, yet we are “made in the image of God.” We, too, have the power of God inside us and supporting us. We, too, are here to create a more just world. I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure Jesus was frustrated with his disciples for not realizing that they, also, were capable of doing what he did and dying for what they believed in. They had a choice, though – whether to acknowledge and use this power, or not. 
 
From the beginning of humanity, the world has needed people – like Jesus, like my niece – who are willing and ready to create a far better place than one in which young girls are raped and tossed aside like trash. I believe God needs all of us to help Him and has equipped us with divine might to do so.

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Being Sure

March 22, 2010

I attended my first 12-step program meeting at the age of 26 because I was consumed with fear of the future. I was desperate for more surety about how my life was going to work out. The potential for disappointment controlled me. Having just moved to the gorgeous and playful mountains of Colorado in my mid-twenties, I knew I wasn’t supposed to be feeling terrorized.
 
This was a significant step on my spiritual journey. In the years since, I’ve been on a quest to lessen my attachment to surety, and at the same time figure out whatI can place my trust in. I set aside my hope for an illustrated how-to guide to the future, and instead developed a deep trust that no matter what happened, I would not be alone in figuring it out.
 
I also worked with a life coach who helped me grow beyond needing surety before acting. I so feared doing the wrong thing and bringing ruin – financial, emotional or professional – upon myself or others.
 
I finally let this fear go when I surrendered to God’s will for my life – a practice I repeat daily. And wouldn’t you know it? Lately, at the most unexpected moments, I’ve been struck by a feeling of certainty.
 
While sitting at a stoplight, something opens in my heart and fills my eyes with tears of awareness. It feels like the most precious grace. My priest described grace as “the unasked for, unearned love of God.” When the tears come, it is because I recognize that God is leading me to touching, and at times astonishing, surety about pieces of my life.  
 
As I take alternatingly bold and baby steps into a new and unknown career, people, to my amazement, are saying yes, and doors are opening in places where I did not expect to find them. As I commit to loving and being myself in a new relationship, a calm, heart-opening surety I’ve never felt before grows daily.
 
Then there is surety about infinitely smaller things. For instance, this morning I wanted to buy two plastic Adirondack chairs to make my deck more hospitable for my visiting boyfriend (and to finally feel like an adult with real deck furniture.) I debated it, though:
 
“Maybe I should get just one. He can sit in that. I’ll sit in the rotting, 6-year old beach chair and save $24.99,” said the more frugal part of my brain.
 
“But you really feel like crap sitting in that rotting beach chair,” the part of me that loves myself replied.  “And you refrained from buying the cute Liberty of London bra and panty set. That’s $24.99 saved right there!”
 
I debated this all the way to the check-out line. Still unsure, I let the cashier ring up both chairs and announce the total. It was unexpectedly low – they were on sale! Debate closed. Ahhhh, surety.
 
Is God present in small, rather insignificant decisions like this one? I think so. I think God is available for consult whenever and wherever I invite Him in. Actually, I think God is present whether I invite Him or not. I debate with myself, ask for help, take a step in further, ask again, wait, meditate, write, plead, listen, and act again. And so it goes. Sometimes with an onslaught of tears at a stoplight, sometimes gleefully at the cash register, and sometimes after years of contemplation, clarity comes.
 
What are the signs of surety for you? What inspires you to act with when there’s no guarantee? If you care to, please share your thoughts here.

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