Nakedness is blinding

Asking why appearances matter so much in the material world answers itself: because it IS the material world. Things are solids and shapes and we identify them by how they look.

In my world, where spirituality and creativity merge, I am much more interested in the inside. What composes someone? What is their interior life? Who is the self they don't often show?

Prickly self/paint and pastel on paper

My oldest is currently enamored with costume and fashion design and served as lead costumer for the high school play, for which she performed admirably. The fashion world seems superficial to me and yet, something she said yesterday has me thinking otherwise. "Mom, the thing I like about fashion is that it can be so individual and you get to express yourself." As an artist, I know that is true and surround myself with color and what I call the magic of accessories. I wore orange purposefully Wednesday to boost my energy and brighten my aura on a particularly tiring day.

One morning at the gym this week, I noticed the cute 40-something moms in their neon racer-back nylon shirts and matching shoes, hair looking perfect. Meanwhile, I was dressed in 10-year-old yoga pants, inherited gym shoes, a nondescript t-shirt and bedhead. I really don't care what I look like at the gym. I am there to work.

Apart from the pack of moms, I noticed a perky red-head with whom I had a long conversation about nine months ago. Our daughters attended elementary school together until the family moved. They changed schools, then districts for their daughter, who was struggling. When we spoke, she was excelling at an alternative school and I was lamenting the pressure my then-sophomore was experiencing. The mother opened my eyes to looking at other options for my daughter. She was a good listener and shared her wisdom generously.

So, I decided to interrupt, which is atypical for me, and let her know how much that had meant and that my daughter, now enrolled in a post-secondary program where she attends college classes part time, is blossoming. That the high school stressors were gone.

Her entire demeanor changed when I uttered those sentences. "I really needed to hear that today. I broke away from my friends, I am a rebel and independent, but mostly because I was furious today. Furious with how things are going for my daughter."

We spoke about 20 minutes and she shared how her daughter had missed her friends, so they tucked her back into a small suburban district known for its academics. And she'd sunk back into old anxiety patterns and was a mess. My heart broke. This teen struggles with anxiety, yet is cool as ice on the outside. The district doesn't get this and really is of little help. "They only see the strong exterior and assume she's like everybody else," the mother confessed ... though everybody else, who seems perfect on the exterior, is anything but inside.

We talked about my nephew, a very premature baby who has grown into a wonderful young adult and will always struggle with cerebral palsy. Had my sister not become his advocate, he would have been written off. In fifth grade, the district informed my sister they were placing him on the non-graduation track because, essentially, he impacted their test scores. She had a fit and asked what the point of finishing would be. Wouldn't that district love to know he's taking college classes ... thanks to mu sister's continued advocacy. He's a smart kid with processing difficulties.

This mom's other daughter shares some of those same issues. She's got her hands full.

"You're so open about all of this," I remarked. "I have to be real," she said.

Being real, that's exactly what I am looking for.  No pretenses, walls, fences or facades that project a perfect image. Because we're not.

Chronic pain has taught me that lesson and tomorrow I'll be co-leading an hour workshop on pain as teacher. Our goal is to provide safe, creative community where those struggling can share themselves and be open to what their physical pain may be signaling.

And I keep thinking about this beautiful teen who has learned the trick of pretending on the outside because most of the world isn't ready to deal with its realness. Nakedness can be blinding and awkward instead of real and beautiful.

• How do my insides and outsides mesh?
• When am I real?
• With whom can I be real?
• Am I comfortable being real with Spirit?
• What happens when I am?

as an artist,
I am attracted
by what something
looks like

as a mystic,
I want a closer
look, to
examine
the inside

for that is
where the center
of anything,
authenticity,
can be found

and it's
where God
resides

within

Listen to this post:

God's gaze of pure love

My paper version of a Venetian mask

Two things this week have captured my attention and, while they may seem unrelated, they have a similar lesson. The first is how we carry ourselves and use our bodies simply to walk. I am taking a walking class, which may sound silly, but the chiropractor has a lot to teach. And I, for one, have a lot of unhealthy, old patterns to break.

So, I've been practicing this full-body stride, arms and hips swinging, gliding side to side in what, at first, felt very exaggerated, but now seems more natural. Last week when one daughter, my husband and I were out on a walk – I was warned they would not slow for me – I hit a wonderful stride, not even noticing when I eclipsed them. My husband experienced a minor injury, but I wanted to keep my new-found pace. When I reached home, my older daughter said her friend had texted that I was power walking past. I laughed at the notion, but now see the truth. This more natural way of walking is empowering, forcing me to thrust my shoulders back and my heart forward. Gradually, my confidence is shifting as it feels good and I feel better in this new form.

Because of a shoulder injury, I have backed off yoga, trading it for walking and still swimming. I do errands on foot more and notice how others walk. Yesterday, I was aghast at an older man who never looked up, hunched his shoulders and constantly eyed the ground. I silently said a prayer because his posture said he had either been very hurt, suffered or has no self esteem, It really tugged at my heart. I suspect the man may have been younger than he appeared, his stance adding years.

My new walking teacher/chiropractor suggests that, in our culture, we are always moving forward, forcing our bodies, heads, necks and shoulders out of alignment. With some attention, I see that he is right. I understand, though, that an inward adjustment must happen first. I have been trying to live more in the moment. When I don't, I do notice my body shoves itself forward. Now that I am aware, it seems ridiculous. Pushing, pushing, pushing to get ahead somehow and neglecting to savor the now.
...

My creative project this week has been to design paper masks based on the Venetian long-nosed one I brought back from Venice to Lily. My nurture group's theme this week was "Stripped Naked," and I was playing with how best to facilitate opening to that. Here's the introduction that I offered:

We all dream that being somewhere naked is catastrophic. Nudity often is uncomfortable, unfamiliar and forces us to disrobe, hiding nothing and removing our [turtle] shell. It’s truth.

Shedding my masks, pretentions, ego and willfulness allows me to make my being my message. Lets my life speak. Lets us wear our truth nakedly for ALL to see. 

Like all else worthwhile, paring down and casting away the unnecessary occurs slowly, through many little steps and not one major cleanout. It’s progressions of nakedness.

It may be acquiring new skin after sloughing off, layer by layer, the old armor that makes us tough, numb and non-feeling. We outgrow the thick skin that has scabbed over buried wounds. Ultimately, we want nothing between ourselves and God. When my girls were infants and I’d bathe and hold them skin-to-skin, I thought of it as “naked to naked.” That’s how I feel best with God, when I truly experience her gaze of pure love and see myself as beloved. Those rare and fleeting glimpses are enough to hold me.

Pain is a stripping agent, forcing us to come to terms with our humanness. That discomfort stirs up what’s hidden and brings it to our attention.

Real nakedness is seeing ourselves truthfully and without judgment … through God’s untainted eyes. We must remove the glasses/perceptions/judgment of others that cloud our view.

So the idea of creating masks seemed a good way to chip away at our false selves. First, however, we focused on two queries, which assisted deep and powerful sharing:

• To what do I cling?

• What masks can I shatter or put down?
We discussed how hard it often is to put down those masks and traveled to the conclusion that becoming aware is the first, big step and casting them aside is the journey toward wholeness.
Then there was a wonderfully intense period of creativity when we made our masks, put them on and looked at each other. Our passion drove us past the usual stopping point, so I  asked each person to try in the coming week to look in the mirror (real or metaphorical) and see themselves with God's pure gaze of love.
If we could do that often enough, there would be  no need for walking classes, I do believe!


• How do I project myself in public?
• How can I pay attention to how I walk and what it may reveal about me?
• When have my physical and spiritual selves been in alignment?
• What does that look and feel like?
• What mask am I attempting to remove?

I believe

Listen to this post:

I can live a rather Scrooge-like

existence sometimes,

insulating myself from the world.

But then I am the poorer.

Poorer without the

connections to others,

my deeper self and,

mostly, with God.

When God is awakened

in my heart, much like

in the beloved Dickens’

character, I am giddy.

Giddy with an

unconditional love

that feels like

no other.

Love for my

children is the feeling

that comes closest.

Indescribable.

I like to call it

naked-to-naked.

That’s what we named

it when we held our babies,

skin to skin.

Nestled up close where,

I believe, Spirit would

always have us.

It is we who wander.

And for me, it is the

vulnerable baby

we are reminded of

this time of year …

in the throngs of charged

shoppers and baited bargains

… the small being that someone

who loved us so much sent,

that reaches inside of me.

This baby was a gift, I

believe. God’s way of

touching us with our own

humanity, teaching us

there is a place within,

that Jesus modeled,

where we can always

be naked to naked.

When we unwrap

our Scroogeness,

we have the best

gift possible:

ourselves as

God sees us.

That’s when we

know God’s pure

gaze of love.

Letting my naked soul out

Listen to this post:

Images of corporate worship/pastel on paper/Cathy Barney

Yesterday's message in worship centered on giving rather than receiving. Giving in worship, not just other aspects of life. Praising and opening, not just basking in the alluring silence.

I had a message open in me, but it did not seem right then. Perhaps, now.

I don't come to worship to give or receive. Mostly I attempt to come without expectation, except to wait – which is the entire purpose of Quaker worship: waiting for God.

I do come to be. To be with God, to be with others being with God, to be myself, to be myself with others being themselves with God. I seem to live inside out, yet still manage a protective coating most places. In worship, I unwrap myself into God's loving embrace. It is one of the few corporate places I let my naked soul out.

Of course, I have safe places, such as my studio, where my soul dances naked with Spirit and, sometimes, even with trusted friends.

My buddy Caleb, really my other child (he and Lily were due at the same time), though he chose to be born earlier), at age six said it was his purpose in life to "help people's souls find their dance and dance it."

That's also what I hope worship could be: collective souls dancing joyfully in God's presence: naked, stripped of the identities, filters, fears, expectations and wounds we so often can't leave behind, even temporarily.


• What is worship for me?
• With what do I arrive?
• With what do I leave?
• What happens in the midst?
• What dimension does the corporate aspect of worship offer me?


rushing to get there
on time


never quite making it
early


dumping the kids
in their class


heaving a heavy sigh
and entering


letting the space
choose me


I like a different
perspective


settling in
sinking deep


feeling the
edges fade


finding that wonderful
space between


between wakefulness
and sleep


between consciousness
and dreaming


between hardness
and softness


and truly
being


with God

ELEMENTAL

Stripped naked
no thing to hide
light and shadow
only the mighty Universe
and me
feeling very little,
but awed at being
a part of some thing
so big, so significant
wonder
gratitude
doubt
about my existence
my place
my small space
in the grand
scheme of something
great,
including mere me