Ever-present key

Sunday, as I sat in worship in the warm sun filtering through the paned windows, a softened image entered my mind: a cross made of stiffened gauze, undulating. Shortly after, Mike gave the message on his experience of worship, using Billy Joel's great lyrics from "The River of Dreams" to punctuate his words:

" ... But the river is wide                                                                                              And it's too hard to cross"

Cross, I thought, then found my mind's eye envisioning a heart pulsating at the center of an elaborate cross, much like the ones I saw at Sacre Coeur this summer. It was the sacred heart pulsating in the middle of the cross, representing love at the center and through which we must pass.

The cross morphed into the wavy patterns of the river moving vertically and the wavy horizontal line a person crossing would make, then a multitude of wavy horizontal lines representing many people crossing. I wrote river/living water in the margin.

Crossing implies an obstacle or impediment, it occurred to me. That you can't cross without intention and attention because there are elements of danger. We speak of crossing the street, a bridge, the river, the globe, the ocean, a path and the road. There's an energy and movement involved and that whatever you are crossing is some sort of pathway. It is a choice, maybe instinct or drive pushing us forward so we're not stagnant.

But, something happens at the intersection: leaving the old behind and moving into the unknown. That concept has haunted me for months.

My Quaker friend Stuart, whom I only met once at a mystics gathering, periodically checks in. About ten days ago he wrote:

"Just wanted to tell you that I've been using the drawing of your Cross query 'What's at the intersection?' as my phone wallpaper soon after I first saw it. The gift I was given of a message and a vision regarding the "intersection" has been a spiritual breakthrough for me in declaring my worthiness and providing me a deeper level of centering. During this past year the Spirit has called on me to speak of my centering practice of which the intersection is now an integral part. The vision had only appeared to me a short while when I first learned of your drawing and query. Your query, the timing of it and your drawing are incredible proof for me that miracles happen!!! OMG do they!!! For me Help was at the intersection."

I haven't been able to reply to his e-mail until now. We first met directly through prayer on some other plane. He stood up in the first worship of that conference and merely said "Help me." Those words so totally expressed what was deep in my heart and opened me as never before. Enough so that I heard, and slowly obeyed, God ask me to lay down and surrender at the closing worship. It was pivotal and as we were saying our good-byes, I hugged Stuart and said it all been his fault for uttering those two words!

God has helped us open each other over many months. Somewhere in my centering Sunday, Stuart was in the mix, though I wasn't consciously aware. I thought I had ministry forming, but worship broke and I was left holding this:

"I am stopped at the bank, asking the small questions:

– Where do I move?

– How will I have enough? 

– How can I be supported?

When, to cross, I must plunge in with the BIG question:

 –  Lord, where do you want me?"

Monday, I added "to cross a threshold is to make a conscious decision," a doodle and Stuart's name.

Today, sitting in the sauna after meditatively swimming a mile broken only by the beautiful red sky streaming down, I again, thought about the gauze cross and how I must make one to tangibly know what's at the intersection when this hit: it's where two join and become one. God's eternal invitation into love.

I thank Stuart and Mike for letting Spirit's words come through them to speak to me. That's how Quaker worship is meant to work.

• What does the cross represent for me?
• How do I see it as a metaphor?
• How have the words and wisdom coming through others reached me?
• And reshaped my thinking?
• What do I find at the intersection?


it emerged in a form
see-through, light
and slightly malleable

easy to play with

then it became
an energy, full
of force 

next, it shifted
to flowing water,
begging to be
crossed

always with the
same mysterious
intersection

holding the
ever-present
key

Listen to this post:

Ever dream

Listen to post:

So, what, really, is coincidence and what is Divine intervention? I am beginning to think there is no coincidence.

As you know, I moved into my new studio last week. Thursday, to be exact. I spent the next few days settling in and getting acquainted with my new environment -- it's pretty interesting with 15 empty classrooms. I am not getting too comfortable as I expect to be moving when another space, my first choice (though I really like where I am), is vacated, cleaned up and available.

It's all very exciting and making tangible so many things that have danced in my heart and head. It is also a balance in continuing to prayerfully listen and discern before moving too quickly to fill this space and my time. Not always easy to explain when someone excitedly asks: "When will you be open?" "What, exactly, are you doing right now?" I am beginning to respond honestly: "Getting organized and prayerfully listening to God to know which piece comes next." It's a very freeing answer, but so counter-cultural.

I am attempting to keep myself out of the getting busy-just-to-be-busy mode.

Sunday, I attended weekly Quaker worship and could hardly wait to announce my joyful news. It was met with wide smiles and surprise that it had finally happened. I don't remember specifically what I babbled, but I must have said where my new studio was – not that too many people would know.

But someone did. Someone I had observed the past several weeks attending, but not had the opportunity to meet. He approached me: "We'll, now we're neighbors," he said. I did not understand until he explained he is the supervisor of the special-needs school occupying the middle section of the old school into which I just moved. Can you imagine?

What are the chances? What is the coincidence?

None and there isn't one. God has sent me instant companionship and is already at work creating community right here. Travis stopped in on Monday and we sat for a few minutes, had a cup of tea and discovered we are both interested in spiritual direction/nurture and connecting more deeply with others.

As I write this, I am getting chills because this is so over the top. I have also discovered 2012 is the 100th anniversary of the opening of this building and the section where I am located. After being closed five or so years, I think it's time to reinvigorate what was once a bustling community. And I think it is already happening. All I have really done is move in ... and listen.

My prayer is that I continue to listen.

• What seeming coincidence can I remember?
• How can I see that it was something more?
• How was God at work?
• How often do I chalk things up to something other than Spirit working?
• Why am I resistant to acknowledging these mysterious and wonderful workings?


so often I have felt
alone with my dream

as I were the only one
involved, making things
happen and in charge

then something too
unnatural occurs,
capturing my attention,

demanding that I
recognize I am such
a small, but significant
player in something

so much bigger and
grander than I could
ever dream

Waiting for inspiration

Ok, so I'm still stuck on editing and beginning to believe it is a bigger concept and more about how people process. Even who we are.

Some of us process verbally and put it all out there to be sifted. And, for others, it evolves more slowly and internally, emerging more formed. There are probably combinations and we may switch off, but I have really begun to notice these two distinctions.

I also think much has to do with whether we are an extrovert or introvert.

In the creative process – whether it's art, nurture, ministry, writing or anything else – I don't believe those of us who do it one way, should expect that is THE way. Hum, sounds like a conversation on religion.

When I was younger, I was astounded by two depictions of the writing process. One person would sit alone at her desk for a very long time in silence and THEN the keyboard would explode. Another said she had to wait for inspiration. Heck, I was always on deadline, how can you wait for inspiration, I thought. Once I had my facts, I had no problem spewing, then later editing.

That was commerical writing, for me.

I've since matured, I hope, and write in a completely different way – at least for myself. I used to rely on an outline like a Bible or trusted road map. I still do, on occasion, when I am writing for somebody else and want to be sure to include all of the salient points.

Journaling, however, has taught me a very different process. One influenced by many years of yoga, meditation and worshiping in the Quaker way of silence. One of waiting, feeling, bodily imagining and seeing what emerges.

I seem to go to the place in myself that is unsettled, probably where the creative fire is burning. And sit with it a little. Sometimes not long at all. And I just feel it, swirling or welling up. Like a volcano pulsing, molding and then erupting onto the keyboard. Sometimes into the chalk in my hand and onto the page.

I've never thought about it this concretely before and, in doing so, seem to divest some of the magic.

Nevertheless, whatever has been welling up has done so for awhile and seems to come out somewhat constructed. Possibly edited. It's very much like when I feel led to give vocal ministry in my Quaker meeting (church). There was a very long time in my life when I never thought I'd be able to stand in a group and speak. It's still never easy, yet I am pushed to be the vehicle for a message. Not my message.

First there's a tightening of the heart as if it has been pierced by truth from somewhere. I usually try to push it back down with the inner critic saying, "No one wants to hear that." Or "That's your ego, not a true message."

If it dies out, it wasn't anything. If it keeps coming back and making my heart race, my palms sweat and my legs wobble, then I know I will soon be standing and speaking. Fortunately, Quakers have readily shared this discernment process and the first time I read a description that captured what I had felt, discovered comfortable affirmation.

I have also been told that to be really faithful is to stand and have no idea what you're saying. That has only rarely happened to me and, I suspect, is more the manner of a verbal processor.

Last summer, my 12-year-old whispered in my ear during worship that she thought she had a message to share. I said stick with it and if it doesn't go away, it's probably yours to give. I could see her nervousness and knew it was hers. I told her I'd stand with her and hold her hand if that helped. She went back and forth, the same thing I internalize, when I asked "will you regret it if you don't say it" and she replied "yes." So we stood and I must have trembled as much as she. I will never forget that wonderful day, nor the people who stopped her after worship with a silent hug or words of encouragement. This was not our regular meeting, but they knew this was special and her first vocal ministry.

So what if our messages, out in the public, are our vocal ministry? And what if some have been pushed through an internal editing factory already? Are they any less valid than those that have been tweaked externally?


• What is the current message my life speaks?
• How do I deliver it?
• What is my creative process?
• Have I molded it to the expectation of others or freed myself?
• Can I nurture others in that expression?


exhale
out
the tension

breathe
in
energy

clear the
mind

and
find
the place
in the
body

that's
speaking

what
truth
is there
for me?

shall I
share?

how?

have I
been
faithful?