Perspective of God's vision

January was supposed to be my month "off," a respite from the previous, dizzying year and holiday season. It began on a relaxing note with a re-grouping retreat and, listening to collective widom, unscheduling the January session of Artsy Fartsy. Of course, I didn't feel as if I could completely abandon the kids, so I prepared, with the help of my oldest, art kits with supplies and activities, then sauntered up to their complex in almost sub-zero weather with my youngest to leave them at each door.

When I'd met with a potential Artsy Fartsy board member at the end of the year, he'd wondered out loud why I was taking January off. "This is when you should be planning," he mentioned supportively. Well, yes, that was what I intended. Taking time off from the everyday busyness to look at the BIG picture and spend reflective, prayerful time seeking God's direction. He – the man, not God –  suggested developing a business plan and accompanying financials. Did I mention I also had two grants due?

When I thought I'd take off the month, I had not envisioned writing a deep and truthful letter to the city planning commission about the proposed re-zoning for Milford Main. That took effort and energy, but I felt as if God was pleased. Nor the workmen who kept entering my studio, then knocking out walls searching for asbestos. They threatened the safety and security of my space. I don't know how easily that can be restored.

Least of all, I had not expected the call for a job interview as a PR/media strategist. I thought, what the heck, why not? The call came Monday and they wanted me Wednesday. I had planned no work for Tuesday, my birthday. Fortunately, my resume was together, but work samples were not. Yet, I also tempered my efforts with the thought that this was just a conversation.

Indeed, it was a good one. Maybe too good. I loved the synergy of the workplace, the type of work this organization does and the complexity of the job. I could easily imagine working under this boss and in this small group within the larger body. I felt like we clicked. That is, if I actually wanted the job. Do I want it or want to be wanted?

I'd prayed to God earlier to make this easy. She complied, though I am not sure she heard the rest of my pleas: "Make the path clear." EXCEPT ...

Tuesday, I'd raced through my morning swim, attempting to get done in time to take my daughter to school. All night long I struggled with shoulder-blade pain ... and into the next day. Because I had the interview, I stretched the shoulder, applied an Amish-cream remedy, then popped Ibuprofen. It was enough to get me through the interview. Wednesday evening it began to really bother me and there was no way to get comfortable in bed.

Thursday's saving grace was a previously scheduled massage. As I struggled with the pain (interesting how one single spot can affect so much of your body and movement), I began to wonder if this was God being clear: you can't handle a full-time job right now.

During the interview, I certainly felt that I could. In the aftermath, I reconsidered. My massage therapist/shaman/pastoral counselor sent me from his table to the chiropractor with a dis-aligned rib. Ouch. Aggressive swimming. During our talk (we do that, then get into the body work), he suggested that I had plenty of clarity. "You seem to understand and see the whole picture," he said. "What you need is guidance." That stopped me. He was right; I had plenty of clarity – perhaps too much. 

I don't believe God causes pain for any reason, including in order for us to shift direction. I am aware of some of its causes in my case, but it sure seems to get in the way. Mostly the way of living a regular, normal life.

Why do I seem to covet that at times? Because it seems easier going with the flow. Swimming upstream is hard work (ask my ribs). A story I just read and I movie I treated myself to resonated deeply with me about being who you are. 

The story of the Fourth Wiseman was all about his journey to find the baby Jesus based on the Truth he got from a particular star. He missed the opportunity to meet with with the other three when he stopped to nurse a sick Jew along the way. He kept stumbling into needy people all through his travels, finally giving away the last treasure he had carried for when he met Jesus. The Wiseman arrived in Jerusalem just as the earth was quaking and Jesus was dying. He tumbled and hit his head, dying in the arms of a woman he'd rescued from slavery with a precious pearl. The woman overheard a conversation between the man and a strangely sweet voice. The man was saying how he had looked and looked for Jesus, only to just miss him. The voice replied he had seen Jesus in every face of every person he had helped.

Though VERY different, the story of genius mathematician Alan Turing is also of one committed to another path. Turing's honesty brought him undue suffering for being truthful about who he was (a homosexual living in England when it was against the law) to the point of ending his own life. While alive, he would never know what he began: the fields of computer science and morphogenesis, mathematically revealing how cells differentiate to form shape and attributes such as stripes or spots.

Right now, I see several paths personally. Spirit, please help me chose the one that brings me closest to you.

• What measure do I take to step back from life and seek God's input?
• When do I take a respite?
• What spiritual practices support that?
• What daily spiritual practices help me take the longer view?
• Where am I on my path right now?

through the haze of
busyness and
dizziness

it's awfully
hard to see
what lays ahead

or remove
oneself altogether

to step back
and see things
clearly

relying on
God's vision

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Worship launches whirlwind week

Answered prayers and blessings have abounded this week and, fortunately, I've been in a place of awareness and gratitude. Could I possibly always be this blessed, just not aware?

Much of it has to do with a conscious effort and new spiritual practice to bless everything and everyone. Ok, really, it's Spirit, yet my awareness is more present, focused and tuned in.

IT'S IN THE EYES
Monday, I took a brief road trip with my twin sister to Smalltown, Indiana, to visit a naturopath her co-workers rave about. It was a beautifully sunny day to weave up and down among the rolling pastures, neat farms, livestock, flea markets and forgotten villages. I needed a new perspective after a long winter of hibernating. We arrived early and had a brief wait in the front of the building, where all of the herbs are kept. Several locals strolled in looking for this tonic or that. We had our appointment together, but Carolyn gently insisted I go first. "Just like you pushed me out of the womb?" I jokingly asked.

Terri began by photographing each of my eyes. She practices iridology, which purports your health is recorded in the eyes. I was enamored with the photos and coaxed her into e-mailing me one. She seemed impressed with something about my eyes, though didn't name it. I scribbled a page or two of notes since she had many interesting things to day. Most rung with truth. Those that didn't personally, I could see were family traits. What interested me most, beyond her saying I had a strong structure and healthy heart, was her suggestion that the fibromyalgia is bacterial. That spoke to me not in a new-hope-this-will-fix-it way, but as a truth, one path no one else has uttered, let alone offered to treat – naturally. She bumped up my thyroid treatment, gave me an enzyme for digestion, olive-leaf oil for the bacteria and a sleep enhancer to get me off the Valerian root-melatonin and Benadryl roller coaster. I have had more energy this week. I am struggling with sleep, weaning off a cocktail of many years. However, I am giving it a go. Funny thing, at the beginning of my consultation, she looked at me and remarked: "You're always going and active, aren't you? And when you're done, you drop." I responded that I think of myself more as a contemplative, then remembered how my husband always reminds me that I never stop, unless physically forced to.

I think Terri calls it as she sees it and reminds me I am not sickly and helpless, the way my ego has ensnared me.

REMEMBERING TO FEEL BLESSED
Forgetting NOT to take the thyroid supplements before bed and mixing it with the sleep aid was a mistake that had me up and down all night. Tiredly, I drug myself to the pool, then off to meet my new workshop partner for our final planning session. We're presenting tomorrow (Saturday). Sunday we had been disappointed that no one showed up at our preview session, though we buoyed each other and left undaunted. This work seems like such a blessing and exactly what I am called to that it's not really work. Of course, there's lots to do and much effort exerted, but it's fun, playful and, even, prayerful. Before Monday's road trip, I'd popped into the studio to finish the wall-of-pain piece I'd created for the workshop. We'd gotten the ok to set it up in our venue and use it as a teaser. The owner loved it and it looked great. How could anyone resist? we thought. We have five souls coming tomorrow and are thrilled! I'd caught myself from becoming desperate and used prayer and blessings when it was only two on Tuesday. I also have my diligent partner to thank.

SEEING CLEARLY A SLOW PROCESS
Sunday, I'd left Quaker meeting (church) early, missing the business meeting, to co-host that intro workshop I mentioned earlier. In my absence, the congregation considered a ministry grant request from me for salary and rent for Artsy Fartsy Saturdays, the not-for-profit arts exploration I launched for local, at-risk kids. I'd had mixed feelings about attending. I wanted to be sure people had space to talk freely and me being there would, possibly, inhibit that. The 2 p.m. workshop made it a moot point.

Sailing busily through the week, testing a new supplement regiment and fighting something off, I hadn't thought much about Sunday's business meeting. Actually, I kept thinking I could call our minister when I had time; surely she'd know what happened. The plain white envelope with a neatly handwritten note on a yellow, legal half sheet wrapped around a check beat me to that call. The money, my FULL request, showed up in the mail with a lovely message from the treasurer. She's not one to gush and said how delighted the meeting was to put funds to such a good cause. I was overcome with joy, relief, tears, gratitude and feeling loved and blessed. Something I haven't felt in a very long time. It was wonderful. I did call our minister the next day to tell her how touched I was. "I wish you had been there, Cathy. There wasn't even a hiccup; people really have wanted to do this. We have been clear you have gifts, but, before Artsy Fartsy, they weren't focused. Clearly, they are now."

I can't even remember the number of clearness committees for ministry I have had in the last 12 years.  I have struggled through a number of them, remaining unclear. This last round, however, was so pure and taught me that I have to be clear myself, not rely on others for that. They may help by asking questions, but not by giving advice or suggestions. My group was to have met the first Sunday in March with my request, but a winter storm cancelled worship and anything else that day. So, I e-mailed my proposal, for which I was crystal clear, to the committee and it went to ministry and counsel with their blessing. Apparently ministry and counsel recommended it to the business meeting and, WA-LA, it was approved. On one hand it seemed so easy, on the other, it has taken me along time to get here. My journey was to learn to ask for what I need. When I finally could, it was lovingly given. The next morning as I ticked off laps, I blessed the names and faces of everyone I could think of in my meeting.

ROOTING IN THE PRESENT
Today, as I prepped for tomorrow and blog, I received an intriguing phone call from someone I'd met a few weeks ago who uses shipping pods as gallery space. He's got an empty two-week slot and wonders whether  there's a place around here the show can land. The longer I talked, the more excited I got. Wow, God, I thought, you had him call me! Then, please let me connect him or figure it out. In another time, I would have found it an annoyance. I am grateful to be clear, aware and grounded in the present. Amen.

Maybe there is something about my eyes.

• What is my experience of clarity?
• When have I been clear?
• When have I been anything but?
• When have I heard truth from unusual or unexpected sources?
• How do I express gratitude for the truth, clarity and blessings?


whirlwind
of a week,
bookended

by worship
and teaching
about pain

linked with
truth, blessing
and love

and a new
vision of
myself
as strong,
healthy,
lovable

and
Spirit's
emissary*


*Years ago when I attended School of the Spirit and our small group named each other's gifts, my facilitator wrote this. I couldn't see it then. I am beginning to.

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Realm of Truth

My friend Ali is so wise spiritually, though I don't think she'd own that. Dealing with her third round of cancer, she is a beacon of light, hope and clarity. There must be something about facing death straight on that brings one closer to Spirit. 

I began to watch a Netflix movie entitled "I am" about a successful Hollywood director who, when facing a debilitating post-concussion syndrome from a biking accident, isolates himself to cope with the pain and decides he wants to die. In that moment, he begins to see that his life of chasing the American dream, becoming rich, successful and famous is a lie and he intends to expose it. So, he takes a small crew and interviews religious and environmental leaders, philosophers and writers posing two questions: What is wrong with our world? What can we do about it?

From the half-hour portion I watched, interviewees suggest that Darwin's survival-of-the-fittest theory has instilled a non-natural competitive drive into Americans, the result of which is the economy we worship. We act as if the economy is a real thing, not a man-made invention, one commentator states. It also drives the consumerism of other countries and cultures. Among animals and untainted indigenous people, cooperation is valued over competition. There is a deep, natural connection that we are missing.

Ali calls it EGO: Edging God Out. I love that. She's had her own wake-up call about career and, just this week, is leaving a successful position with all of the trappings. "What do I need all of that for?" she asks. "I want to do good in the world." She hasn't recognized that her presence and reliance on God is a shining example of being rather than doing good in the world.

She has an incredible story to tell about turning adversity and hardship into success and cycling back to God. That's hers to tell. However, we had powerful conversations Sunday after worship as we shared lunch and, again, lingering in the parking lot. I am following her model of listening to God and surrendering in my own life. I NEED models. I need people who walk the walk, not just talk the talk. Ali is one who courageously takes that walk closer to Spirit on so many levels.

Alone in the Meetinghouse: my own clearness

Last night I rushed off to a second clearness committee helping me discern Spirit's message. It had been a jammed-packed day getting my daughters prepped to start school next week, schedule pick-ups, supply errands and getting ready for a pack of teens to descend for my youngest's 13th birthday party on Friday. 

Little breathing room, let alone time to process and be ready for more clearness. Then, I realized that I was trying to be clear for my clearness committee. How utterly ridiculous! I'm not totally clear and that IS the point of the process ... other discerning hearts listening to where God is working in me.

I scuttled on over for the 6 o'clock meeting and no one else came. Under some circumstances that would have seemed a disaster. This was as it was meant to be: me alone in my beloved Meetinghouse; just me and Spirit. I waited and worshipped, knowing full well I would be humanly alone. We were working on God's time and direction. There had been a reason for the scheduling snafu.

As I unlocked the door and wandered in, waiting for others, an article on the bulletin board had snagged my attention: Standing Still in the Light: A Spiritual Practice of George Fox.* I took my time, unlocked the library door, found a seat and began to sink into worship, waiting. At first for a committee to appear, then for my heart to unlock and let God in. I played with Fox's practice of:
1. BE STILL and submit to the light. I never liked that word, submit. I took it out of our wedding vows. Sounds like slavery to me. In this context, I understood it to mean the opposite: freedom. I struggled at first with the submitting, but it came. Not a once-and-for-all submission, but one in this moment. And, surrendering all of myself to Spirit, not just the good parts. I must give up the negative ones as well.
2. BE PRESENT. The stillness and emptiness of the Meetinghouse helped ground me in that respect.
3. FEEL, DON'T THINK. Die in the silence, the page had demanded. Die? Really? Yes. Die to the falsity in my life. The lies of our culture. I've been experimenting with feeling something I call Christ energy and I let that invade me in these moments.
4. BE VULNERABLE – stand naked. Sheesh. I had said in my last clearness committee how I felt God was asking me to come out from under props and do that very thing. I feel vulnerable all of the time. Vulnerable and out of place in a world that values success and masks. That's not the world I desire to serve. 
5. ACCEPT THE TRUTH. I was waiting, shielding myself from the litany of my faults. They never came. Much like a shamanic journey years ago when I was so afraid to look in the mirror only to discover beauty, my beauty, and not ugliness, deformity or horror. I have been judging myself based on the world's values, not Spirit's. In God's realm I am being asked to claim my beauty and gifts and share them with a needy world.

My fear is fear and it's an illusion. I remember a pivotal quote from a dear family friend's memorial service, scrawled inside a Bible: "lack of fear is significant."

God is asking me to submit my fear, on that I AM clear.

• Who are my up-close-and-personal models of faith and living?
• What are they teaching me?
• How do I achieve clarity?
• Where is God currently working in my life?
• What am I being asked to submit?


last one picked
for the gym team

the odd one
left out of
the girl-scout
tent

the one who would
never measure up
for the popular clique

who hated the
regimentation
of the corporate
world, felt chewed
up and spit out

internally scarred
by a car accident

who opted to
be, mostly,
at home
with her kids

who chose to
start a non-profit
for the community's
poorest kids over
a career

not surviving as
the fittest,
yet being
called, guided
and molded by
Spirit

in another realm,
of Truth

* Steve Smith, A Quaker in the Zendo, Pendle Hill Pamphlet #370

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