Touching hearts

I had a hard time in a traditional church when the white, male minister stood above the congregation with an engaging, animated delivery and prayer that did not speak my heart. It reminded me why I was away from organized religion so long. It was someone else's interpretation of what my spirituality, my relationship, with God ought to be.

And, not much rang true for me.

My body tensed and my attitude bristled. The rebel in me, well, rebelled. I sang "Goddess our mother, she" instead of the printed "God, our father, he."

Stand up, sit down, read this creed, say this standardized prayer, we were commanded. Not even a single moment of silence. I felt no room for spirit, except in two hymns.

I realize this kind of church does appeal to many and am grateful there are as many denominations and faiths as their are personalities and types of people. I believe we respond to God differently and what speaks to me may not necessarily connect someone else.

After my inner rebel settled down, I began to view the time and experience as a blessing. A blessing that I have discovered a way that deeply connects, feeds and sustains me. The wonderfully sacred silent, corporate and unmediated worship of Quakers. Strictly between me and God and the roomful of people prayerfully centered.

It's not always perfect. Occasionally, I can't center easily, but I usually link to God and the congregation in some way -- even if at the last second. Enough to hold me for the week.

I am beginning to realize the real value of worshiping in community. Even just being in a faith community and how those regular interactions, connections, seeking and providing prayer, nurture and comfort are how we ought to live our whole lives. Not just on Sundays or exclusively with the people we know on Sundays. But all of the time, with everyone we encounter. Not an easy task, but the tightly-knit safety net of my faith community helps me to venture out beyond and try it other places. It's creating that blessed community right here and now. It's making where were are at this moment and how we interact more important than where we think we may be headed. It's the journey, how we respond and treat others that counts – from what I know – far more than the destination.

Lily rattled off a story in the car on the way to meeting this morning about how some kid at school screams that if you're not Christian, you're not going to heaven. It bothered her. It bothers me. Can't really blame the kid, I'm sure he's parroting what he's heard at home. But that kind of unconscious* behavior is damaging. Possibly most to those who heed it.

When I was new to Quakerism, someone told me this practice is hard work. There are no creeds, sacraments or beliefs beyond knowing founder George Fox's continuing revelation that God is personally accessible, that Jesus is the inward teacher and there is that of God in everyone. [OK, that's a really simplified synopsis, but Quakers value simplicity]. The rest, I have found, I work out myself with Divine guidance, often in the sacredness of silence.

So, if my theory that because we respond dissimilarly, God calls us as we are able to listen is true, makes me wonder how many times God has tried to get my attention over the years and I failed to notice. However, I am grateful I do pay attention more than I used to [not as much as I hope to], for when I do, I feel more whole.

....

*accepting things on the surface, without any personal exploration, prayerful testing or Divine guidance ... not to say faith and trust are not important, but different than judging others
....


• What connects me to something outside myself?
• What have been my experiences with organized religion/spirituality?
• What spoke most deeply to me? What did not?
• Have I experienced a strong faith community and what is that like?
• If I know what connects me, can I respect that something else works better for another?



when those other words
hit my breast with a thud,
I let them slide off

and I didn't listen again
for a long time


I now know you
were always with me
inside

and I rediscovered
that I did, indeed,
know how to connect

but it was not with
another's words,

not even with words
at all

but in the still,
rich silence

when your heart
touches mine

Cloud of unknowing: anything but boring

I have difficulty with the "m" word – you know, ministry.

I never thought it applied to me until I wanted to attend something called School of the Spirit, a two-year Quaker program for spiritual-nurture ministry. Training in ministry.

Ministers, for me, had always been above, more educated, more spiritual, more directly in tune with God, more sure of themselves, more certain in life. Maybe even a little boring. Something I was not. Even in my Quaker Meeting where I knew everyone was a minister, I still felt outside of the concept.

When I had my first clearness committee within my meeting for School of the Spirit, that word – in BIG, capital letters – stared me down. There was no escaping. I had to deal with it. I have reconciled that as I have accepted my gifts and know that I use them as ministry. I think the egalitarianism of Quakerism also helped me reach this place. Acknowledging it does not place me below or above anyone. It's just who I am and what I do. Honestly, it always has been.

I also think discovering Goddess and the Sacred Feminine within has changed my attitude. I have certainly reshaped my image of a minister to include myself.

The next piece of this journey is undertaking my real work, that which feeds all myselves, including the spiritual and creative. It is part of reaching wholeness and recognizing that my ministry can also be my work, from which I draw income.

Perhaps as I became a mother at a later age, I laid down too much. Or maybe, it's just that it's time to reclaim some of those pieces and establish boundaries and priorities, including that my gifts do have value. I am transforming my believe that only in another world I would be paid to do what I love to finding how to earn a living doing what I love here and now ... because what I love is my passion. What I was meant to do.

A current piece of that is beginning my meeting's new encouraging-and-supporting-ministry process. I really have to share this call to ministry somewhere [beyond me and God]. Not just the ministry, but holding it. I feel it has grown bigger than I can or should handle. I have been trying to figure that out on my own, but I think group discernment is the answer right now.

I have to confess that I am also a little afraid ... afraid of showing off what I have been birthing for fear of criticism and rejection. Fear that some may say I misunderstood God's call.

This blog has been a step in that direction. A testing of the waters. And, although I wish I could say I was so certain that I needed no acknowledgment, I am very grateful for the feedback and support right here.

It reminds me of something I recently spoke in worship when several people struggling spiritually were on my heart: "Do we truly live in the Spirit and, if we do, how do we know?"

The answer that came back was: "We don't; we live in a cloud of unknowing."

Hey, if that doesn't confirm I have a ministry, I don't know what does!

• Have I ever thought about myself as a minister?
• What are my gifts?
• How have I viewed ministers and how could I sculpt a new vision that includes myself?
• Can I help others do the same? Maybe even in just doing it myself?


I appear to myself
as the little girl always
struggling, thinking she
gets it because she feels it
so strongly

but never quite sure

only sure that she
has to keep struggling,
recording that journey
and sharing it

maybe that's enough

Making our hearts sing

I do this kinda funny thing when I swim. I guess you could call it my trademark – or maybe just quirkiness. I hum the number of the lap I'm completing. I think of it as a goddess hum that puts positive energy into the water. I like to give something back for all it gives me. Also for the next person in my lane.

I've been doing it so long, I almost forget that I do. It's nothing anyone else could hear. I think it becomes meditative, even prayerful.

Today I began to wonder if it affects my breathing while swimming, possibly making it harder or me less efficient, so I tried about 8 laps without humming. Then, the swimming was pure work -- no joy, just effort. I could hear my air bubbles, but that was isolating and lonely. So I started humming and my heart began to sing again. This tells me I have made swimming a spiritual practice.

I may swim more efficiently, more easily without the humming, but what's the point if its joyless? Then I started to apply that concept to my whole person. I realized that even if life seems like more work to me at times, it's just who I am and what seems like more effort, may, indeed, be adding joy into my life and, possibly, the world.

And I hadn't even consciously understood that.

Maybe someday, I'll have the courage to hum or sing (a huge fear) out loud!


• What makes my heart sing?
• What happens if I stop?
• How conscious am I of how it affects me, the world?
• Have I been able to incorporate that into my life?


Onennnnnnnnnnnn
Twoooooooooooooo
Threeeeeeeeeeeeeee

almost begins to ring like ohm
in my throat, mouth, ears
and head

it makes my throat dry,
but my swim drier,
dull and lifeless
if I don't

helps curb my
restless mind,
connects it
to my body

and takes me to the
place where God
can touch me

where I can
and do open

Spiritual mermaid

Every once in awhile, when I switch my daily swim to the afternoon as I did today (my favored morning time is crowded this time of year with resolution keepers, who will dwindle by March), I encounter John, a former chef. He’s a great storyteller who’s experienced much in his life, not all good, yet he always flashes a smile and seems genuinely pleased to see me.

I have met so many interesting people at that little gym pool. More than I ever could have imagined. We’re all drawn there for various reasons, but usually they are health or pain related. The water is healing as we all have discovered. Some of us have even talked about that. I also think we each add our own healing into the mix.

I could probably swim laps faster – though I work at a pretty good clip – but I hum the number of the lap I am swimming to keep track and, more importantly, add good energy and a prayerfulness to the water. I think of it as water goddess, mermaid, power.

A wonderful Quaker friend of mine introduced me to the concept of what positive intention, prayer included, can do to water ... someone has even studied it. That research concludes that chaotic water molecules organize into beautiful shapes when exposed to beneficial comments or prayers. So, I believe that by purposefully spreading affirmations as I swim, the water will be helpful and healing to the next person to take a dip.

I find diving in is such a spiritual metaphor for me as if I am experiencing the Divine in such a wonderful, kinesthetic way. Floating is the balance we all seek: being so deeply rooted in our bodies that we can let go ... enough practice and we don’t even have to think about it ... it comes naturally and everything is at ease, nothing hurts and all is pure joy.

Being in the water is pure joy for me.

• What brings me pure joy?
• Do I make it a regular practice?
• Is there anything in my daily life I can make more intentionally spiritual?
• Are there places I encounter others beyond my faith community with whom I can share something deep?

just jump in
breathe, glide
be joyful
in receiving such joy,
is there a way,
a place to
spread that to
others?
to turn chaos
into beauty?