Stingy geodes and broken soles

Lesson for today:
Don't attempt to dislodge a geode from where it's probably been embedded for centuries.

Or you'll rip the top layer off your boot sole and it'll flap all the way home in a mocking rhythm of "leave me alone" or "told you so," negating your intention of a silent walk.

And I had thought the rock was just there waiting for me to choose it and pry it free. Silly human! Guess it desires to keep its secret contents just that.

I had not given much thought to geodes since I was a kid until I met and heard Quaker singer/songwriter Carrie Newcomer at a fall writing colloquium in – where else? – Richmond, Indiana. She has a unique way of looking at the world, distilling it into song and pulling the listener in immediately:

"Some say geodes are made from pockets of tears,

Trapped away in small places for years upon years.

Pressed down and transformed, "til the true self is born.

And the whole world moved on like the last notes of a song,

A love letter sent without return address ..." [link to Carrie below]

That stubborn old rock is a wonderful metaphor and just imagine what it has experienced in all of that time.

Not only experienced, but absorbed and observed as it sat in silent detachment. I need that silent detachment periodically and it's the reason I am spending a week away, by myself, holed up in a beautiful condo in the woods, by a lake with more amenities than I need thanks to a very generous F/friend.

I did not even open the front door for the first 40 hours, just immersed myself in the silence and returning to edit and refine the book I desire to publish. Such a luxury: to only look after myself; leave all of my notes, journals and papers strewn about; work my derriere off; take a break whenever I wish; and return at any hour of the day or night. OK, so it's really only my second full day and I may be climbing the walls in another 24 hours or so.

But, I don't think so. I want to remember and emulate the lesson of the rock. I desire to be the detached observer, finding my natural body rhythms warped by the holiday push and return to my work on my terms and not in rushed snippets of time.

I was ready to explore the outside natural world this morning and find winter hikes exhilerating as the world seems more dense when quieter, hibernating and less cluttered with people. The morning's colors were striking as I walked along the lake: geodes and sedimentary layers in rusts and russets, bumped up against bleached branches resembling animal skulls like a Salvador Dali painting. And a steeling blue-green-gray lake etched with powder. The styrofoam debris and discarded, corroded pipes marred the serene canvas, yet are part of the package and a reminder the lake is man-made for flood control.

Control? Man in control. That's what I am trying to lose while I am here. I wish to be guided by the Divine and not my worldly urges and motivations.

Perhaps that's another lesson of the stingy geode: I could not possess it.

• When was the last time I picked up a rock and noticed?
• What did I experience?
• If I think about it, what lessons do rocks have for me as an adult? 
• When I was a child?
• How can I become the detached observer?


Past the garages
down the stairs


along the worn path,
littered with a limp lawn chair


and finally to the lake


with a narrow passageway 
around its perimeter


suspended in ice
dusted with sugar


uprooted trees provide
fairy haunts


a surprised bird brushes its wings


and I call an apology
for upsetting this
natural balance and silence


but I see I am not the first
nor will I be the last


yet I am grateful for
this taste, this escape


even now sitting
at my monitor
remembering,
savoring,
sharing


To hear Carrie:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UqL2MZaor4k

Defense against fear

Sitting in worship yesterday after a very profound communal reading (not a Quaker practice and fraught with personal memories of rote meaning), the blessed, gathered silence opened deep wisdom including that I am afraid. Constantly afraid.

I know my body reacts as if continual fire alarms ring all of my waking hours. My nerves are on overdrive, a very unscientific explanation of fibromyaglia. I'm not certain a scientific one exists as it is not well understood. For years, doctors told me nothing real was wrong because their diagnostics could not detect soft-tissue pain.

And yet, I don't believe I am the only one to feel afraid. I believe we all do at some time or another.

I fear:

– more health challenges

– not enough money to be comfortable

– not living up to my potential

– leaving my kids with a messy world

Funny, I have:

– learned to manage a chronic condition

– always had enough even in lean times

– had several careers and am embarking on another, to which I am spiritually called

– taught my daughters the lessons I have learned, trying not to relay what's harmful

So why am I afraid of the things I have already conquered? Because I want to pretend that I am in control. Life throws curve balls and, so far, mine have been manageable. What, specifically, has made them manageable?

Something bigger than myself. Use whatever word or concept you desire.

That something is also bigger than our cyclone-like culture that smashes anything in its path that refuses to move in the same direction; our addiction to 24/7 news that only looks at the negative, preying on disaster; reality TV that caricatures our humanity, passing it off as exemplary or stingingly revealing weakness; the constant noise and distraction in our lives; a prevalent competitive spirit that compares and judges; and whatever else erodes our natural balance and rhythm.

My best defense again fear is prayer: talking to God/Spirit/The Universe as often and as deeply as I can.

• What rules me? Fear? Gratitude?

• Of what am I fearful?

• How can I counter that?

• What fills me with negativity? Fills me more lovingly?

• How can I nurture myself while being a part of the world?

Dear One –

Still me

all of me

so that

I may

know you

deeply

in my heart,

my core

help me

breathe

your breath

of love

and compassion

make me

forget the

daily

grind and greed

teach me

gratitude

and to

remember

ALL 

that I

have

been

given

thank you

Will eat some cheese

I am beginning to swing back into a post-summer rhythm even though the kids technically don't climb aboard the bus 'til next week. We're making them get up as if it were school, so it's not so tough when it is.

It also means I have returned to the gym for laps and 5:45 a.m. class. During one of those swims I had an epiphany as I often have ... though not during summer swims at the crowded and noisy, but gloriously  outdoor pool.

I realized, in a wordless way, that I really am fine the way I am, in the body that I have and with what life has offered me. I had known I was supposed to feel that way, but it finally sank deep into my tissues, as I need it to, to truly grasp any concept entirely.

OMG, I really truly have been fighting myself for so long thinking in my twisted mind that I should have done this, been that or had that. When, in reality, my being and experience are just as they should be.

When, exactly did all of that negativity and judgment of myself begin? Who knows, but our culture has certainly ingrained it more fully in me.

A more relevant question is: Can I release that unhealthy thought pattern NOW?

What would that look like, feel like and change?

Probably everything.

It really is rooted in the fact I am NOT in control except in how I respond to life and circumstance. My wise pastoral counselor says responsibility is the ability to respond. I think that may mean I have a choice as to whether or not to respond. My auto mode is always to respond, even if I have not one iota of energy left. And that, in a nutshell, is why I feel such energy loss.

Just because I can, doesn't mean I have to. Somewhere along the line I fell into the nasty practice of believing I had to give all of my gifts away whenever there was a need, even if it meant completely emptying myself [granted, sometimes emptying is filling and restorative]. That really does feed my ego and perceived identity as the helper (enneagram  type 2). I lost track of feeding myself. I was the one who could always be counted on to help, figure it out, be creative, etc.

Last night a strange little movie with an innocuous title, Post Grad, reminded me that life is not about where we aim to go, but who we're with ... and as I ponder that I also would add how we're with life.

A line from another movie, one of my all-time favorites, Bridget Jones's Diary, has become my informal mantra: "I like you just the way you are." That's all crazy Bridget wants to hear. That's all any of us wants to be told. Mostly, we need to tell that to ourselves.

My next favorite Bridget Jones line, from the book and not in the movie, is: "But what am I going to do with my life. I know. Will eat some cheese."

Feed myself, she's saying.

•  How can I turn off my inner critic?
•  How do I escape or counter the deadening and damaging cultural messages?
•  In what ways do I fight myself?
• In what ways can I relax that pattern?
• How can I feed myself?


so
locked and I
hadn't
even
noticed


couldn't
see
because
there
was
no
time
for
me


too
much
tending
to
others


resentment
built
at
my core


why
me?


why
my time?
my talents?


too tired
need to relax
just a minute to rest

but, NO
the ego
prevents me

because it
wrongly says
I am the ONLY
one who can

well,
what if
I can't
or don't?


WHAT IF?

Jesus, the madwoman and the game

What on earth can these have in common?

– Jesus' parable about the vineyard owner who hired workers throughout the day, then paid the last-arrived first the same wage much to the disgruntlement of those who completed a full shift.
                                                                                            [Matthew 20:1-16]

– A book entitled Meeting the Madwoman* that practically jumped off a friend's shelf at me and describes the inner anger that surfaces in the midst of a suppressive society.

– Competitive water games today at the pool won by any means.

I am searching for that thread and, when I unearth it, believe it will be a huge lesson for me. HUGE. I think they illustrate a concept with which I have been barely grasping for a very long time and will address how to survive this world with an intact soul.

JESUS
I reflected on the Biblical passage last week during a retreat. It's one that's always troubled me because I could never deeply understand its meaning. Yes, I know Jesus was radical, contrary and issuing some wisdom about our monetary system. But it wasn't until this week, in this particular group, that the ah-ha moment arrived. Grace opened such newness and meaning for me. I struggle with the Bible being rote from childhood, so opportuities like this are rich gifts.

Thursday the message for me was to substitute love for money in the story. Then, I could fathom that all of God/Spirit's love is available to anyone, anytime PERIOD. It wasn't at all about money. Then I wondered why Jesus would use money as the metaphor. It haunted me until today in worship after our minister talked about her experience in the same group. He used money because it is the exact opposite of love.

Money is an arbitrary source of power and, I believe, Jesus meant this message to really teach us about how to be in the world.

Money is everything love is not.


[unconditional] love is given freely
     

love is
     not earned
     rationed
     withheld
     paid
     saved
     accumulated
     stockpiled
     controlled


love is
     fluid
     free-moving
     knows no boundaries
     unites
     forgives
     connects


THE MADWOMAN
So the madwoman lies in each and all of us, a rebellious creature responding to judgment, confinement and dominance. She lusts for the freedom to be herself according to her nature (inner wisdom/Spirit/God/True Self) and not a legalistic society structured by and favoring educated, white male control.

I know this madwoman. I have seen her in my dreams. I have been her. It is she who often fans my inner creative fire causing eruptions against a society with little room for decisions based on love (not lust or sex – those have their place and power in our culture).

What she calls for is not that different from what Jesus demands: creative freedom emanating from unconditional love.

THE GAME
After meeting (church), the girls and head to the pool to meet Tad, my husband. He arrives ahead of us and calls to warn me it's family game day and if I had been expecting peace and quiet to plan for something else or drive home. It's hot and the water beacons, so we go.

Seems like innocuous fun. I encourage my oldest to participate in an inner-tube race. I recognize the look of defeat on her face as she struggles to finish. She perseveres as those that make it first rejoice LOUDLY. Thankfully ALL participants get a prize. I enter the next race to kick with my younger daughter in the inner tube. I swim almost everyday and figure it should be easy. It's not and I see dads doing whatever they have to (walking, half swimming ... anything) to win. Like a cartoon of caricatured men, where pushing their kid ahead with as much machismo as they can muster is THE game. Take no prisoners.

Makes me sick and laugh all at the same time.

I share a quick conversation with my oldest about how we're not competitive. We agree winning has no place in our vocabulary or hearts.

Yet I suspect it does for the majority of people because it's what we're taught to do. What we're groomed for. Educated for. Honored for. Paid for.

It's a comparison. A weeding out of those who don't excel. Our entire culture is built on nothing but comparison and I've been thinking all these years that it's my inner critic. It's a giant OUTER critic.

Winning, money, comparison and segregation are all tied up into the same messy ball of dominance, control and suppression that continues to roll over all of us.

Well, I want to unravel that ball – maybe just burn it, but that's too violent – and create something gentler, less aggressive and motivated by love. Something that cares for those kicked to the curbs on the same level as those with CEO status.

I want a new system. One where the last will be first and the first last.

Barring that, I want to live as minimally as possible in the current system becoming an example of what we really can be. Really are meant to be.

– How do I live with the elements of society that bother me?
– What personal changes can I make to live in a more loving way?
– Who or what speaks to me about how to truly live?
– How can I translate those messages into action in my own life?
– How do I live in this world, but not be of it?


*Meeting the Madwoman, Linda Schierse Leonard

Surgery of surrender

Sunday on my drive to Meeting (church), this phrase ran through my head seemingly out of nowhere:

Cut it loose

It's still with me and I wondered if it was something I was meant to say in worship, but it didn't feel like it then.

Tuesday and Wednesday, I hosted an overnight guest, a very good friend from my School of the Spirit days. That's when I spent two years commuting to Philadelphia while participating in a Quaker program of spiritual-nurture ministry. A chunk of that time was spent in an assigned small group charged with developing deep community. Mine was totally dysfunctional for a variety of reasons and a VERY difficult period in my life. However, I learned that sometimes the nurture is not where you expect, but it IS there. This overnight visitor was one of the people who nurtured me outside of that group. She and several others kept me going when the small community was draining, even damaging, at times. I have reached a place where I am grateful to that group and carry each person fondly. There were great lessons from that trying experience. I have cut the resentment loose.

My traveling friend, as she often does, challenged me with a workshop she'd just led on discipleship. I asked her what that meant and she said letting God direct your life. Surrender, I thought. I keep hearing the same thing from my mother, who says it's easier to put that into practice as we age and gain a different perspective.

Isn't that the same as cutting it loose, I  ruminate.

Here's what I think I am being called to cut loose:
– Any expectation (mine or others') about publishing my book and just charging ahead.
– Attempts to convince others this IS my ministry. I KNOW it is and that's enough.
– Comparisons to anything else I or others may make. This book is uniquely MY message and one Spirit drives me to share.
– Worry PERIOD.
– Self doubt.
– Things and people that are not energyzing.
– Anything that's not creative or joyful.
– Feeling obligated to say yes.
– My need to control.
– My need to feel in charge.
– Being anything other than who I am.
– Ego.

Wow, that lists calls for an awfully large knife and I know of only one place that's available: surrender. I pray I can tolerate losing the burdens I heap on myself in this surgery.


• What am I called to cut loose in my life?
• What do I need for that?
 • How can I be prayerful and ask others to support me?
• What will my life look like after that emptying?
• What can that free me for?




I carry
so much


it bears
down
on me


sucking
the
joy


robbing
my
energy


all
because
I have
invested
so much


in
a persona,
a label,
a mask

that is
no longer
mine
to wear

I ache
to discover
the freedom
of  what lies
beneath

Mosaic of the cosmos

I had a message last week in worship:

There is no bigger picture,
just a series of smaller ones.
Like mosaic pieces that,
together, form one –
a creation of beauty.

It's been haunting me all week. At the time it was an ah-ha moment about me continually whining for a clear path and to know/see everything ahead or at once.

Later in the day, during a clearness committee* for a dear friend whose position of six years is ending, I recognized that she embodies living faithfully and comfortable with one piece at a time. Her piece.

I have joked the past couple of years that if Spirit had showed me my path ahead of time, I would have never moved. It would have looked too hard and rocky. But that would have been my myopia and lack of trust. For the journey has been unlike anything I could have fathomed or chosen. I am learning it it not a joke, but reality. In our humanness, we are stuck on control, which is, essentially, the opposite of trust.

I am progressing in accepting my one small piece at a time. I don't think I could digest any more. Tucked into that acceptance is trust and a wonderfully new knowledge that it will be more than all right, it will be authentically me and wonderful and richer than anything I could even comprehend.

It's really the lesson of living in the present, taking my one piece and really living into it. Not debating what will come next or what happened previously. But just being with it as fully as I can.

Last week's revelation makes me see that if we all learn that (some already know this and others, like me, are figuring it out), this mosaic that we are building is truly a glorious thing. More so when we can trust to do just our part – and do it with love and joy and enthusiasm – and no more. A work in progress for which only the master artist has the whole picture.

* Quakers may call a clearness committee for discerning anything central in their life from marriage and congregation membership to spiritual struggles and career changes, etc. It's a wonderful corporate tool.
....

• Have there been times when I could accept the one piece of my path and trust?
• How was that different from the times I struggled to maintain control?
• Have I figured out the balance of trust, yet doing what's required of me ... not just waiting for something to happen, even if it means patiently waiting?
• What's it like when I glimpse someone else's piece or even mine?
• Can I begin to see the oneness and connection in our universe?


Often, I have
selfishly held on
to this one
piece, unaware
that if I use
it well ...

use it to the
best of my
ability and
gifts, as
others are,

something
truly amazing

is being created

and I am one,
joyful, loving
part of the
grand mosaic

of the cosmos