Lens of creativity, acceptance and love

We're not meant to be perfect. It's NOT in our DNA.

Wow, those words still ring in my heart as much, maybe more, deeply than they did Sunday when they leapt off the lips of our minister. She was offering a follow-up message to one a few Sundays earlier about perfection and, that in Jesus' original tongue of Aramaic, meant whole or complete.

They gave me permission to relax and recognize that so many worldly standards set us up for failure and frustration.

I confess that I had entered worship with something on my heart, the fate of the old school I inhabit, and wasn't completely open. Open enough for those words to get me percolating, letting them sift and filter through my conflict. As the pieces began to assemble, it was quite clear that some are looking for the PERFECT solution to an IMPERFECT problem and wisdom said to "look at the edges, to go outside." That's when I made this drawing:

Truly, this is a matter of getting the energy out of the box and how we're boxed in by perfection and rules. We require a free flow of ideas, not granite and stainless steel, which I'll hit on in a moment.

Perfection is a trap that holds in that which can not be attained or captured. Perfection is suffocating. It: 
pre-supposes,
judges,
divides and
is a power play.
When, instead, we need acceptance, which comes from a place of love.
...
The perfect kitchen, according to contemporary tastes, gleams with granite counters and finger-print-free stainless steel applicances. Someone has deemed it the cultural norm to be emulated, repeated, not lived without. It's everywhere: DIY shows, magazine ads, real-estate photos and highlighted in vacation-home rentals.

Simple Paris kitchen

A year ago when I was combing through airbandb.com and other vacation-rental websites, I was astounded that even the teeniest Paris apartment boasted granite and stainless. Why, I wondered? That's the American ideal. I wanted a typical Parisian kitchen, which we found up 76 winding stairs. The kitchen was tucked inside an alcove by the front door with a single sink, tile counter, stovetop, microwave, mini-fridge (white no less) and plates and utensils stacked openly on shelves or hanging. Simple and useful and so, very French. We celebrated some amazing feasts here.

MY kitchen with warm memories

Mine at home has been cobbled with laminate counters in a stone pattern, a matching stainless-and-black fridge and dishwasher a la Craigslist and a 15-year-old smooth top, black stove. The slate floor that reminds me of a creek bed was laid by my brother-in-law, who also custom made a shelved, hinged desk for a funky, not square corner. The table with oak top and original milk-green painted legs was an end-of-show deal at a fairgrounds 20 years ago. The New Orleans jazz painting hung in my childhood home and recently took up residence on a blank kitchen wall, where it has always belonged. The island is a faux-painted cabinet on wheels retrieved from my Quaker Meeting and topped with an Ikea butcher-block slab.

Paris kitchen #2

My kitchen is anything but perfect, a hodge podge of things sentimental and practical. I LOVE my kitchen in all its quirky, imperfect splendor. And, yes, there are some improvements I would like to make, but it seems so crazy to worship an impossible ideal whether in our homes or ourselves.

Tuscan kitchen

I adore my studio in a 1912 building so many recently have said is worthless. Almost 50 autistic kids attend school in one section, hungry parochial-school kids eat lunch in its cafeteria five times a week, pliable gymnasts bounce all over its auditorium/gym  and a hand full of artists create from their classroom studios. Does this sound like a lifeless shell?

When we can recognize the implicit imperfection in the world, we can re-imagine and re-purpose building on those flaws and, even accept, things as they are. That's the lens of creativity, acceptance and love.

• How do I see the world's imperfections?
• How do I see my own?
• To what standards of perfection do I hold myself and others?
• How can I rid myself of that false ideal?
• Where can I find acceptance from the place of love?


in a throw-away
society,
a 103-year-old
has little chance
of survival

not even if
it's witnessed
history

housed, fed
and educated
hundreds

served the
community
faithfully

stirred
memories and
friendships

been repurposed
barely tended
and awaiting

acceptance
for what it is,
imperfect
yet functional

can't we see
this as a metaphor
for ourselves

and come
to its rescue?

Listen to this post:

The world, according to Dawn

Ever had one of those moments when you feel detached, VERY aware of what's happening, participating in that moment, yet knowing it's something special?

That happened to me Wednesday during what I thought would be a routine haircut. However, my stylist is anything but hum-drum. She's a hoot and about as unique as they come. She'll tell you exactly what she thinks while giving you the best cut. I've never trusted anyone else to just do whatever they want. She really has a gift and it goes beyond cutting hair. She's had a very hard life, yet risen above it with grace, humor and the goodness to help others with similar paths.

Surprisingly her cubby in the warren of mini-salons was empty when I arrived, about a minute late. So we had time to chat about what I wanted and catch up. Dawn just knows everything. She's given me sound advice on teen girls and helped me open to a sassier look. Her knowledge is earned – from experience. She's even shared a Spirit-moment when, as a child and life looked impossible, something BIGGER let her know it would be okay – and it was. I found her on the recommendation of an artist friend, who said she was a genius with a frankness about life. She needs to write a book, "The World according to Dawn."

courtesy of Stuart Miles and FreeDigitalPhotos.net

As Dawn was finishing me up, a young woman quietly appeared and sat down. Soon a new father showed up and the party was on. Our hostess offered us each a glass of wine. I kept covering mine while the hair flew. The wine was a good antidote to a busy day and evening.

The young woman went to the chair and Dawn began to shave her head. She had an edgy cut, half to her chin and half shaved. Apparently, she'd grown braver after she'd come out. Dawn teased her that she'd always known "since you were nine and wore those baggy clothes and t-shirts." It was affectionate teasing. Dawn doesn't care who you are. Last time, I witnessed as she cut the hair of an older woman with some disabilities. The cut was gorgeous and made the woman shine. Dawn sheared the hair away from her face and her entire demeanor changed. I made a point to share how becoming it was on her.

Dawn told the young woman she shouldn't get any skinnier, to which she responded the stress of an ended relationship was the culprit. "Ok then, let's get you a new cut and a new girlfriend."

While they bantered, I took a few minutes to polish off my cabernet and chat with the new father, a cute IT engineer with an adorable five-week old. I asked all about the birth, how his wife was, the size of the baby and if he slept yet. In the process, I also learned the father is from a region in India called Kerala. We discussed the spicy food, use of coconut milk, how he's been here five years working and brought his wife over two years ago. I confessed I had always wanted to visit India. You should, he encouraged me.

We were this odd, ragtag bunch: a young lesbian, a thirty-something immigrant father and a middle-aged artist chatting away, enjoying each other's company thanks to the salty hospitality of a wise, witty and gritty hair stylist who accepts everyone who darkens her door on THEIR terms.

• When have I been detached and aware of a special circumstance?
• How or where did I see Spirit's hand in it?
• Whom do I know that accepts people for who they are?
• What has that taught me?
• How have I learned to do the same?


I almost called  
to ask if I'd 
be waiting

last time,
my turn
was delayed

while a women
it seems struggles
with life was
transformed
on the spot

I was on a
tighter schedule
today and less
flexible
than normal

funny thing
is, she was
waiting on me

not another soul
in sight

with my cut
well in progress
and some
free-spirited
conversation,

strangers began
to trickle in

but the flowing
wine and
authentic
hospitality

made me feel
anything but
strange with
this random
bunch

Listen to this post:

Yoga's simple lessons

Knees tucked, ribs pressing in, neck loose and arms draped, I am aware this morning of far I've progressed in my yoga practice in simple child's pose. Now it's so comfortable, so comforting and a true resting position. When I first began, I shutter to think, it was painful. My derriere was inches above my folded legs and my lower back could not, would not relax. For 14 years, I've gently eased myself into the pose. No small accomplishment in my book. Certainly, I've had my heyday of arm balances, wheels and head stands, but this basic stance has taught me so very much: humility, gratitude, acceptance, surrender, confidence, joy and love.

HUMILITY
Bowing to anything in not intrinsic to our Americanized, individualistic natures. You do it often enough, however, and it becomes second nature, even welcome. I recall a time when, out of yoga, my body moved of its own accord, which I later discovered was something called body prayer, and into child's position. The journey there was not conscious, but what I needed and where, I believe, Spirit called me. On bent knees as willing servant.

GRATITUDE
Lowering ourselves physically, such as into child, pushes our ego down, allowing us to become pliable and able to see all of the gifts we have received. We're grounded with a shift in perspective and more able to become and express our thankfulness.

ACCEPTANCE
Being humbled and filled with gratitude gently sets me in the frame and place to be tender with myself, where I am and any limitations. Yoga teaches me to accept myself in any given moment. Being curled around the heart connects me to my lost, lonely and wounded inner children. I am able to identify them, rescue some and befriend the others unaltered. There is a freedom in accepting oneself where, when and how we are.

SURRENDER
The world neglected to teach me to surrender; in fact, I think it's message was quite the opposite. Yoga slowly works its soft magic on me, wrapping my mind, body and soul into bits of release, so minuscule that I barely notice until there's an accumulation and, bingo, I desire to surrender. That darn ego strongly resists strongly, but the wisdom of the patient path matches its force, softening ego over time.

CONFIDENCE
Lowering oneself to the floor as an act of humility, oddly enough, can instill a peaceful surrender that, for me, fosters a deeper knowing and trusting, releasing a confidence I had forgotten. The confidence I had as a kid! Practicing yoga for 14 years, with good days, off days and an aging body, shows me my inner and outer strength. Never an athlete, yoga tones my mind, body and spirit and guides me toward inner strength and power.

JOY
There's no greater joy than creeping up to the mat in pain, tight or stressed and leaving it refreshed, stretched and carefree. At the end of nearly every practice, when I raise my hands overhead and pull them down into prayer position, I see a slice of green, representing the heart chakra. Yoga nearly always leaves me blissful no matter how grumpy, sad or poor in spirit I began.

LOVE
The stillness of yoga, in my experience, transforms the heart appreciably in one sitting and, greatly, over time. It is the core of my practice physically, mentally and spiritually. I came to it out of injury, yet continue if for health and well-being. It's slowness roots, calling me to humility, gratitude, acceptance, surrender, confidence joy and, eventually love, but, especially, self love.

Never could have imagined all those years ago, struggling to get my butt down without hurting my sacrum, that this posture mimicking a baby would open so many doors, especially those stuck within my heart.

• Which practices have helped me grow spiritually?
• How does movement or a physical practice open me?
• Have I considered something I already do, such as yoga, running, swimming, etc. becoming a spiritual practice with the intention of creating space for Spirit?
• How could that work for me?
• How does it already clear me?

here I am
again,
heart beating
up against
my knees

forehead resting
on the floor

blood gently

rushing

to my head,

a detoxing

inversion

deep breaths
more labored,
stretching on
the inhale,
relaxing on the ex

when else am
I ever this curled
up and folded
in on myself?

it grounds me
and reminds me
who I am, how
I am

and who I
worship and
honor, bent
in gratitude

Listen to this post: