I was up earlier than
anyone and settled into a cup of strong coffee and prayer. The candle flame
nudged me in and my gliding pen and journal were ready to capture the moment.
My heart was filled with gratitude for this place of deep joy. As if I had
detached and really begun to see my life, all of its blessings, and that the
frustrations and difficulties only make it richer; that hardness hides a bounty.
I understand that the adversity
in my life emanates from two sources: myself and my journey. I am learning to
surrender the difficulty I wreak, discovering the doubt and comparison are
ego’s inventions to keep me trapped and beholden to it. I don’t want that life
anymore. I want my life; to live
authentically as only I can. I desire to follow my path, not the path parts of
me think I should walk because it casts me in a better light, nets me greater
success or wealth or would look good to others. And, as my true path becomes
clearer, though usually only one step at a time, I sense that it is the road
less traveled. That is it a more difficult path, but one that will shape me as
Spirit desires and bring deep joy as I travel toward wholeness.
 |
| Dreaming/pastel on paper |
As the sun was shedding
its rest and my body began to quicken, I lay with important messages filtering
in and out. I’ve forgotten the details, but not the residue nor their
importance. I jotted this in my journal:
This place of rememberings, of snippets of dreams, I was feeling them, knowing their truth. Not sensing worries as if that had been my auto-pilot mode. Waking as if to remember because I had forgotten. Forgotten that I have a good life – a VERY good life. Something shifted me beyond the reach of everyday worry. Like I regained something that I had lost sight of … remembering freedom and not being confined by fear and worry … even the uncertainty in my life seems like a gift. I have new eyes; eyes of appreciation, gratitude, possibility, love and creativity. This is being present.
The idea of spiritual
gifts has been on my heart and mind as I prepare to lead a workshop touching on
the subject next month and have drafted a proposal for a full-day retreat this
fall. I am uncovering my gift of healing, experienced its presence during the
Quaker mystics weekend and am experimenting with directing it within. I resonate
with the wounded-healer archetype and can tap its resources best if I fathom it
within myself first. It’s much easier to listen to someone else’s wounds when
ours have been [ad]dressed.
After journaling, I read
the daily Henri Nouwen devotion, another part of my morning meditation:
Becoming Food For the World
When Jesus took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to his disciples, he summarized in these gestures his own life. Jesus is chosen from all eternity, blessed at his baptism in the Jordan River, broken on the cross, and given as bread to the world. Being chosen, blessed, broken, and given is the sacred journey of the Son of God, Jesus the Christ. When we take bread, bless it, break it, and give it with the words "This is the Body of Christ," we express our commitment to make our lives conform to the life of Christ. We too want to live as people chosen, blessed, and broken, and thus become food for the world.
I have felt chosen, blessed and
broken on my journey. Now, I am ready to be given
as food for the world.
• How do my dreams [in]form me?
• What truth have they imparted?
• How do I experience the liminal
space between sleep and wakefulness?
• When can I detach from fear and
worry and see my life as it really is?
• How does that stir me to
gratitude?
A quiet house
a single cat
wafting cup of coffee
candlelight and
a chilly July morning
appreciating the
little things
time with God:
heart to heart
believing in a
new gift, born of
pain and experience,
faith and abundance
recognizing the beauty
in my life, like being
cured of a gripping
illness that rendered
me absent
this flowing
dreaminess is the
reality, unlike the fear,
panic and constant
comparison
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