Other side of grace

Three days ago I felt tested, much like my Quaker friend Patia described about her own life Sunday. "God tests those closest to him," she'd said.

So it was with surprise and gratitude I responded to my 13-year-old's request to walk the local labyrinth. It seemed just what I needed: quiet, connection, contemplation, prayer and peace. I couldn't help noticing how much each quadrant of the sacred pathway looked like a section of the brain. Perhaps this is why a walking meditation works so well for me – it quiets my mind, I surmised. 

Two days ago, I attended a webinar on tapping, a meditative and tactile way of calming oneself. Atypical for me, but I signed up because its subject was money, one of my hot buttons. 

As I listened to more about the process of tapping, I felt divinely led to this place because I had just posted about feeling frozen. "... when you go from fight or flight into a freeze state ... your body is effectively storing the stress of that moment," the webinar presenter said. "The freeze response encapsulates stress in our bodies, preventing us from moving on after a stressful event until we've found a way to release the stress that's literally lodged in our bodies, in our muscles, even our cells."

Milford Spiritual Center

Apparently, tapping expert Nick Ortner says, the amygdala part of the brain signals the release of adrenaline and cortisol, which curtail creative problem solving, slow digestion and constrict blood vessels, manifesting the physical stress. He says that physical response is vital when faced with imminent danger, not with today's modern demands. When stuck in this mode, imagine, Nick instructs, trying to brainstorm growing your business while escaping a menacing tiger. Then think about a few days later, under a warm shower when an inspiration hits, the ONE thing you've been searching for. No coincidence it happened when you're relaxed and your frontal lobe was operating at full capacity.

DUH was my response. I had known all of that on some, unarticulated level. Of course, the portion devoted to unraveling your own personal money story was riveting. He encourages exploring the symptoms you experience around money, the emotions, events and beliefs you hold, then tap on each issue until you hold no emotion around it.

That was all Wednesday afternoon.

Thursday, I sailed into the gym after dropping the kids at the bus at 6:30 am, prepped for a warm-water swim. It felt great to stretch those aching muscles, stiffened from sleep. It's one of my favorite ways to wake up. I was cheered to spot one of my beloved water companions, Ceese, working out in the lane to my left. I could feel her calm energy in the pool as I gained momentum during my mile workout.

She's a healing-touch practitioner who has shared so much wisdom with me over the years. We each know the other's wounds and struggles as well as joys and relationship to the Divine. In the water, she placed her hands on my sides and I felt a surge of energy. She was helping my brain tell my hormonal glands who was in charge. I XX a powerful burst dissipated all over, warm and wonderful. Ceese said it was good for teens and menopausal women – exactly what the females in my family need. Afterward, I shared with her a stunning summer experience when Spirit told me to open my heart to an individual the way I do in prayer to God and how there was a powerful surge that brought the entire small group into an embrace and we all felt the energy. "You have the gift," she said. "Yes," I replied, "when I can get myself out of the way." She admitted that was the challenge.

As we were drying off in the locker room and talking some more, she asked me to center and place my hands on her ribs, which she had injured. I felt the surge again and so did she. We just stood there touching each other tenderly. 

"This is what real connection means, doesn't it?" I finally asked, breaking the silence.
 "Yeah it really is. I felt things settle, what did you feel?"
"The energy, but I also saw green."
"Love," she said with a smile.
"The heart chakra," I chimed in.

Wounded healers, we agreed.

Today I had lunch with a dear friend from college and newspaper days. She's been practicing healing touch for four years, so when she called yesterday, I knew I had to have lunch with her. We talked about all sorts of alternative means of connection. The kind of conversation you can only have with a trusted friend, though we were both careful to lower our voices at Panera. We dared broach the idea of darkness and its relationship to the healing arts. She taught me some powerful prayers of protection. We're both discerning where God desires us. It's heartening to have fellow companions.

During lunch I received a voice mail regarding what had put me on edge Tuesday. Instead of feeling frozen with fear, I was lifted by the interactions that had transpired in the past three days, understanding God's hand in granting me peace and grace.

• What's my reaction when feeling tested?
• How do I freeze, letting my thinking shut down?
• What contemplative practices help remove me from that state?
• How does human touch ground, even heal, me?
• When have I felt wrapped in Spirit's grace?


The path was strewn with debris.
Littered from last week's storm.
Roots, twigs, bark and leaves scattered
haphazardly in lovely, little arrangements
of texture, color and natural simplicity.

The decor called my attention to the
resemblance to my scattered brain.
The labyrinth shape mimics its fungi-
like makeup and is– after all –
divided into similar quadrants.

I walked off the news. And
remembered almost a year ago
hearing the same sort of thing
in a much more devastating manner, 

wondering where the time
had evaporated. How we had
all settled back into normal.

How present have I been?

Listen to this post:

Succumbing to the flow

Roaring Fork Creek/Tad Barney photo

Why is the sound of flowing water so healing? As if anything and everything negative will
 flow right out of me.

It’s a brisk, slightly-less-than-50-degree afternoon on the northern edge of Gatlinburg along
the Roaring Fork Creek. All I want to do is sit and listen, gently let the water lull me wherever
it wants.

Much of the lulling is backwards in time, sparked by a stay in cabins my grandfather
discovered in the late 1960s and where my family has returned.

I feel him here and, also my mother, his daughter. She has always loved these particular
mountains and this specific stream. Even though she knew, as a Quaker, I didn’t observe
sacraments such as baptism, she gently splashed my teen daughters as infants. Secretly, 
it delighted me.

So I am called here. To listen, observe, unload, breathe, remember, let go, find my way, see 
Spirit more clearly and discover my peaceful center.

I don’t suppose it’s any accident that I landed here after a week-and-a-half of healing from a 
necessary, but unexpectedly seismic chiropractic shift.

After weeks of feeling really, really well – to the point of broadcasting that my fibro is no lon-
ger in charge – I waltzed into my practitioner one morning saying I felt my body was ready to 
move that day.

And, boy, was it; however, I was unprepared for my physical reaction. I have subconsciously
and intensely fought to return to the old, stiff patterns. The pain was so overwhelming that
I stopped moving, breathing and retreated into my default of curling in on myself. But I
caught myself. I’m not going there again, ever, I said. If I haven’t learned that lesson in 15
years then there as been no silver lining to this experience.

Some old vestiges are still holding on for dear life, but with a lot of help and wisdom from my 
priate cracker (that’s what Lily used to call him), I am letting my spine unwind from years of 
twisted disease.

And the rush water helps. It serves as a reminder to keep moving, that my life is abundant and
 flowing, that it does have direction; to let nature take its course and surrender to Spirit.

Grace helps me understand that this sacred place of family and faith is very much present in 
this process.

• What qualities does water bring to my life?

• As Ii magine a special or sacred spot, where does it lull me?

• When I relax into it, how is Spirit evident?

• From what must I unwind?

• Where can I witness grace in this process?

forceful,

magnetizing

marching forward

and pulling me

along

yet willingly,

helping me

let go of

the unnecessary,

the useless

and the things

that hold me back

I want to succomb to the flow of

the living water

Listen to this post:

Recently stamped

INNER CHILD/pastel & paint on paper

Listen to post:

My memory keeps tracing and focusing on the delicate, detailed ears; miniature, but perfect, finger nails; the compact child's crouch; the huge, fluidly expressive brown eyes; doll-like diaper; and pint-sized whimper. Most of all, my heart remembers being so touched as the feisty little one, untangled from his cords and unhappy to be out of the warmth of the isolette, snuggled so completely and naturally on his father's chest. Kangarooing, they call it.

Baby Phillip arrived 10 weeks ahead of schedule, perfectly caught by his attentive mother who, in a rather shocked moment, instinctively knew what to do. And the father, my friend and former co-worker, asked me to visit the neonatal intensive care unit. I think it had something to do with my Quaker background and my sense of ministry. I am still awed and honored.

What I experienced there was God's presence: pure and simple.

God's presence in the perfection of this tiny creature.
In the father's peaceful persistence in snuggling skin to skin and just being present.
In his gentle fumbling with the teeny diaper.
His wanting so eagerly to share his new family, have it acknowledged and blessed.
Also in the mother's acceptance and gratitude in a trying situation.
Especially her ability to adapt quickly and protect her child; she began pumping breast milk only hours after his birth.
Their joy, humor, love and invitation into their intimate family smacked of Spirit.

Most of all, I felt God's presence in the grace with which they have handled the unexpected. They don't find it particularly notable, doing what they have to do, they say. But I see something more; acceptance and surrender at work.

I really don't know why I was called here, although I have been vigilant in silent prayer and asked others to join me. I have received one of the best gifts ever: glimpsing God directly at work in the lives of others.

Baby Phillip, already, is a blessing.

• When have I been graced with observing God at work?
• Why is it, sometimes, easier to see in other's lives than our own?
• Why does the purity of an infant touch my heart so?
• How does it stir my inner child?
• What models of grace have I experienced recently?


...

"Oh, it's you. I thought I remembered your number."

           "Did you get my text?"

"No, we're on vacation and my phone's not working. I have an old one."

"Well, she had the baby."

"I didn't think it was due yet."

"It wasn't, he came early and we were wondering, after you get home and settled, if you could come to the hospital and be with us, him."

that conversation jogged me
very quickly out of myself and
into something bigger


the visit to the hospital
more so


leave it to an innocent babe to deliver
so much love, recently stamped
with God's signature

Stepford-wifelike stupor

I experienced a moment of grace this morning when I was not being particularly graceful. As a matter of fact, I was acting downright selfish and, yet, the kindness of a stranger was bestowed on me

I sped to the gym with all of my gear after getting both girls off to school (ok, well it's Tad who walks them to the bus and gets their breakfast), bent on being finished at 8 when the crowd takes over the lap lanes. In fact, previously one in that group jumped in on me and we collided. Seared in my memory, it's an image that haunts me.

As I push open the glass doors and swipe my membership card, I lapse into an almost hypnotic trance, bent on a single goal: traveling into the pool as quickly as I can and clipping through my laps before I have to share a lane. They are narrow,  creating treacherous passing and shoulder pain as I squeeze when I meet  another. It also prevents me from sinking into any rhythm as I am constantly on the lookout, getting my head out of alignment, craning to detect the other (very difficult in foggy goggles with my extreme nearsightedness sans glasses), making sure we don't bump. It's not relaxing, energizing or very productive. However, I have been grateful on occasion to share when no lanes are available; it's barely better than not swimming ... at least I am moving.

I was in that zone today, cruising to my usual locker, efficiently stripping down to my suit, grabbing my one "wet" bag and robotically marking off the usual pattern of paces across the slate floor to the pool door. And bang, it hit me. I had forgotten my towel. I had duplicates of hairdryers, shampoo, cream rinse and everything else, but no towel. That's even worse than no underwear.

I was so unnerved, I must've said it out loud and a dear voice from the other room responded: "Well, I have two, please take one of mine." I learned it belonged to Linda. I had recognized her face, but never knew her name. I pegged her as one of the aquatic exercisers, not a swimmer and, in my zone of eagerness, tried very hard to eclipse her entry into the pool to ensure I had a private lane. She had been on the periphery of my vision as I stuffed my locker and sprinted to the water.

Apparently she had noticed me. Not only that, she came to my rescue. She nudged me out of my Stepford-wifelike stupor and into the present moment. Fortunately, I noticed the nudge and soon realized the grace of the situation.

I really think my state of being able to see this began yesterday in worship when I sat down in what I'd like to call the power pew: when I selected a row alongside some of the most spiritually deep and aware women I know. I had the sense that this was something special. Another moment of grace. And it's a collection that I had not thought to put together or been in any circumstance with before. We probably represented three decades in age and a variety of experience. I have had private and extraordinary encounters with each of these women, grown to love them and relish their wisdom and insight.

I had not chosen my seat for the company it offered, but rather out of haste as I had arrived on the late side, sought a bit different view than last week and planned to park myself quickly. After I took my place, I noticed the two women to my left. Later, another sat to my right and another, farther to my left and across the aisle, spoke, signaling her presence.

In that worship, each one of us was led at different times to speak. The intensity of our positioning, proximity and the fact we were gathered* was palpable.

And it must still be with me because I normally would have skipped to the pool in my usual focused fog.

* Quakers use the term gathered when a worship is particularly Spirit-filled
...


• What awakens me from unawareness?
• How long am I able to hold onto that?
• Is there a spiritual practice that helps increase my awareness?
• Who are those with whom I connect more deeply?
• What recently has been a gift of grace?




move,
move,
move


from
one
task
to
another


thoughtlessly


the actions
are rote,
robotic
and,
seemingly,
not my own


until


something
knocks
me out
of myself


and
into
awareness


grace?