My job description, from Spirit

Several jobs in the arts coupled with an unknown future for the building in which I rent sparked me to update my resume. I crafted this objective at the top:

Award-winning journalist, disciplined editor, artful graphic designer, patient listener, compassionate non-profit founder and engaging artist seeks to clarify and energize your presence and message, communicating what deeply speaks to people.

It seemed a good compromise between the corporate world and what I do. This exercise also helped me more clearly view my gifts and skills – a nice bonus.

And, suddenly there was a plethora of communications jobs, taunting me and making my head spin. My friend and confidant, Kathie, judiciously selected the four that made the most sense and told me to forget the rest. I had already tackled the arts openings and, yesterday, completed applying for two in the non-profit/education world. I have to say it was soul-sucking to use the online procedure that bypasses a cover letter in favor of limiting text boxes that do not account for gaps in employment for any variety of reasons. Then there was the signing-your-life-away for a background report. It all made me feel a little dirty. "Pay attention to that," Kathie wisely counseled.

In my busy-ness, I have not spent much time in silence and with God. So, today I settled a bit longer with my daily readings and journaling. Lately, my Thomas Keating daily reader has focused on losing the false self. Online, Richard Rohr has been advocating much the same and they both emphasize purification. How incredibly timely for me since that's the precise word randomly selected for me by my spiritual director for this year. "Never gotten this one before," she remarked.

I journaled about the emotional programs I am dismantling vs. what Spirit speaks to me, specifically:
False Self:
• I'm only of value for doing, behaving a certain way.
• Fibromyalgia has proven me less than.
• I don't heal because I deserve this; there's something wrong with me.
• I am VERY broken.
• I'm not good enough to be successful.
• I can't succeed in the material AND spiritual worlds.
Spirit:
• You are infinitely loved, beyond you knowing though I have shown you.
• You are gifted and blessed for a specific task.
• In your dreams, I have told you, you are chosen.
• You have passed through the cross and transcended.
• You have burned your false self.
• Your current explorations will renew your confidence.
• The money/what you need will come.
• All follows love.
• Believe.
• Trust.
• You are growing your faith.
• You have already been chewed up by the corporate world; remember you are stronger and wiser now.

Maintaining peace, Keating writes, amid the false self's cycle of anger, grief, fear, pride, lust, greed and jealousy requires so much energy that can be FREED. "The fruit of the purifying process is the freedom to decide what to do without the interference from the ... fixations of the false self" according to Keating. "As the false self recedes, our energies can be put to better purposes."

God commands us to put on our new self:

"So, as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience." [Colossians 3:12]

As I read Keating further and began to explore my distorted  view of God being replaced by the freedom to relate to God as she is, I shuddered with revelation: God is purifying me because I am chosen (just as we all are) and have always been held close.

And then I was compelled to write my real job description:

Chosen: Follower of Jesus with great compassion, tenderness, intuition, courage, depth, faith, persistence, abundant creativity, desire to serve the poorest, great listener, organizer, able to gather others with her light and sense of conviction. Thoughtful communicator, backing of trusted friends, family and faith community. One who puts others first, but does not punish herself. She must be fed so she can feed others. Sensible, practical, able to make the abstract reality, step by step, slowly over time even when the path is absent. Deep knowing and sense of purpose. Requires one who is loved more than she can imagine; she will be shown. Ability to speak and solicit on behalf of others and herself. Can show others how to help in places they never imagined. Will touch countless lives in impossible ways, yet may never see this. But will, innately, know. Will be tempted to chuck it all because she hasn't learned how to ask for what she needs. I will provide; this IS teachable. She will grow more clear and confident.

• For what am I searching?

• What throws me off course?

• What happens when I listen in silence?

• How am I dismantling my false self?

• What is Spirit's job description for me

Listen to this post:

A heart divided

[Recording located at end of post]

Swamped, overwhelmed, too many possibilities ... however you say it, I feel unsettled and in need of directional guidance. I've had a few conversations, but they weren't satisfying. I've considered a Quaker clearness committee, when a small group deeply listens, questions and reflects back where God is at work in your life – when running right, it can be a gift.

Then I understood part of my problem has been ramping up into high gear and NOT beginning the day with a candle and prayer. I can NOT not do that. Maybe a day here and there, but not any kind of streak. I must let Spirit set my course, not busyness.

I found the candle and matches, flipped open the journal, slid in a favorite yoga CD and put on a slideshow of my favorite images. That was a deal-breaker: settling into some silence, listening and just being with God. I flipped back to some entries from the beginning of the year when I was on retreat – the one where the flu appeared the minute I relaxed and it wasn't quite what I had anticipated.

I re-read passages about:
– a prayer for me from the retreat director about letting new creativity flow;
– not sinking into fear;
– living life, not measuring it and letting it become a prayer (Thomas Merton);
– using what God has given me instead of focusing on what's lacking;
– bowing to Jesus and giving up the wisdom of the world (Quaker John Woolman);
– not letting society or the prospects of money lure me off center;
– that each day is "given" and that we receive it without control;
– that when so many needs call, we must examine their roots; and
– that our struggle is to learn to walk the narrow way quietly.

As I was reading, I focused on two of my favorite images, particularly one of an embryo, inspired by a friend's pregnancy. This time, I sensed it was me and all of the time I was incubating inside during the early days of motherhood when I severely struggled with fibromyalgia. The images doesn't fit me any more. I have emerged and returned to the world. I need a more powerful visual, one in which I feel empowered by Spirit. Before I got to that, I just had to work out walking the narrow way quietly on paper in pastel.

How do I weed out what is not on my narrow path?

Well, yesterday, I began by spending time in prayer and art-making, not to-do lists, e-mails, phone calls and work. My prayer became:

Lord, how can I best let you shine through me?

So many irons in the fire,
so many needs,
so many options

Where do you want me?

This going back out into
the world is difficult.
It pulls me away
from you and toward
practical, daily matters.

How can I keep you with
me as I return?
How can I keep my balance?
Know my direction?

I mournfully waxed over the people with whom I have felt disappointment for not directing me, letting that dissolve into the pure joy of looking at the art I create when totally engaged with God and not the world; returning to what is simple and elemental: you and me, I said to God.

I fixated on that in-utero baby and how it can't stay in forever, just as one can not eternally remain in the center of the labyrinth. It is designed as a respite and then we must return to the world – transformed. My current dilemma, I discerned in the silence, is growing pains and feel I have no human parent. Simultaneously, I remembered the ministry I named at the conclusion of a two-year program for spiritual nurture: gatherer of hearts.

How can I gather hearts when mine is divided? I can unify it when I begin the day acknowledging it is shaped by Spirit and I must listen before I engage.

• What is my auto-response when I feel overwhelmed?
• Where do I turn first?
• How long does it take to understand this condition is often a separation from Spirit?
• When I return, what changes?
• What spiritual practice helps me maintain that connection?

Listen to this post:

Recognizing the ruby slippers

Listen to post:

In some reflective journaling this morning, I came up with a new equation:
ENERGY = TRUST

Instantly, I sensed this also as TRUTH for me: pivotal, essential and wisdom pared to the core. Right now I'm just letting it sink in and experiencing a deep response outside of my brain. It's a cellular message. In my body, that's what I need to truly understand something, then it can trickle up to my brain. Doesn't work for me the other way around or, if it does, it takes years.

This message has been working its way into me for some time, but I suspect that a new healing-touch exercise I was taught and practiced this morning may have helped it manifest in an expression I can grasp.

One of my water buddies had just been to a healing-touch conference and she was anxious to connect with me and show me this effective technique for fibro and, well, anyone. It's simply a matter of reclining comfortably with feet rolling out and tapping your big-toe joints together and gently rocking your feet, legs and hips back and forth for up to five minutes. I couldn't even wait to get home to try it; I practiced in the empty sauna beginning with a minute. Instantly, I felt everything from my sacrum downward loosen.

Must've also loosened me for listening.

I began my journaling about this long waiting process of getting into my new writing, art and nurture studio. A process that began well over a year ago, but has been active since February. As I have written in Facebook posts, getting the grant money was the easy part. Going back and forth with the school, getting a clear timeframe and move-in date has been a three-month roller-coaster ride of stops and starts. These fits feed the fibro and rob my energy ... if I let it.

This morning I am recognizing that if I can trust God to let things unfold and prayerfully ask to know when to act and when to sit back and relax, I receive energy among other things.

But how counter-cultural is that? Waiting? Every fiber in this culture teaches us otherwise: to go out and get what we desire NOW. Instant gratification.

I have to remind myself of a time back in January at a retreat labyrinth when I was told I would not be asked to do any more than I would receive help with and, when I doubted, to prayerfully return to this place, this promise.

I have been too busy, e-mailing and phoning the school, insurance companies, developing, designing and writing a website and materials, planning and plotting. Almost as if I had forgotten to return when life gets ultra busy.

Prayer, really, is what helps me trust.

And, when I trust, energy is restored.

I reached this conclusion this morning after discerning that this waiting period has been a baptism, purifying and burning off all that is unnecessary and NOT me. That list included: insecurity, fear, anger, worry, regret and doubt. What's left are: drive, certainty, gratitude, awe, perseverance and creativity. Essentially, ENERGY=TRUST.

• What new equations are working in my life?
• How do I tend to receive messages?
• What helps me become receptive?
• What role does trust play in this process?
• What role does prayer play?


it's like I've had
the ruby slippers on the
whole time

and not known
their power

like I could
go home
whenever I
wanted,

returning
for that
deep, cellular
wisdom

from the
Divine spot
within

Against the cultural flow

After what seemed like a very short night full of anxiety, I roused myself at 5:30, went to the gym pool between getting girls off to school (with much thanks to my other half or it would not be possible) and came home physically re-charged. but somewhat lacking mentally.

I showered off the chlorine, fed my growling tummy and decided to head to my studio FIRST instead of the computer, from which I never seem to emerge. Maybe that's why I rarely get to my studio. Anyway, in my safe haven, I journaled and prayed and made art and pushed the negative out ... and into the paper and prayer. En route back to the house, the garden called; specifically, the eggplant, green beans and pepperoncini. They were begging to be harvested or languish. I obliged, having to go in twice for bigger colanders. I tenderly twisted the deep-plum colored eggplants off the vine, then headed to the strung-up beans on so many tangled yellow vines. I gathered for over an hour. Each time I finished an area and dumped a load, I looked back to see more. They beans appeared to grow magically as soon as one disappeared.

The meditative task worked its spell on me and I laughed at the metaphor before me: "There IS plenty."

That is what I was struggling to figure out in the studio, my concern for not having paying work at this moment and lots of expenses.

It's so very hard to be outside of the American norm: to be called to ministry that is not yet a livelihood. It seems everyone else has returned to a rhythm and something productive such as school or a regular job. While I wait, which it seems I am often called to do.

So this was my prayer today and the response:

Dear God/Spirit –


I release all
of my anxiety
and concerns
   to you


Replace them
with your vision,
your work for me
...

You didn't get
    this way accidentally
  
You have the freedom
now because I provided
it – giving you time
   to prepare the way

Get strong and healthy
 for when the work
 does come.


And it will


Unburden your stress
              your worry
                  anxiety


Give it all to
      me
I don't want you
to carry any of it,
child


   Only my love
for you ... to
   transfer to others


breathe that in
let it embrace you


• With what am I wrestling right now?
• Is there a way to release it?
• Is prayer a possibility?
• If so, what is my prayer?
• When said, what's the response?

Spirit releasing me to my work, against the cultural flow

Dark shadows or golden daylight

Last summer, when I crashed and burned, my husband took charge of the girls for a couple of weeks while I just focused on myself. Yes, it was a blessing though I was such a mess, I didn’t realize it at the time. Then, it was survival.

One of the things I did to chillax – chill/relax as my girls call it – was watch episodes of my favorite childhood TV show: Dark Shadows. It was a later re-make, but one of the few things I did that required nothing of me. There were 12 episodes and the eight I watched slowly brought me back to some form of life. Ironic, since the main character is a vampire. I realized then that some things and even people in my life were energy suckers.

Last night, I rediscovered the last four episodes I had forgotten last summer and had a blast viewing #9 and 10.

Dark shadows – wasn’t my last blog entry about emerging from the shadows? The irony or synchronicity (whichever it is) is not lost on me.

What is it with me, vampires, old horror movies and Dark Shadows? I love the stuff. Maybe because it pays attention to those murky places … where I feel I have been lurking most of my recent life. It’s hard for me to emerge into the brightness of daylight sometimes when I’d rather be resting [in my coffin].

…
For several years, I did product development and corporate marketing at Batesville Casket Company. My mother told me I’d finally found the perfect job. It wasn’t, but I did enjoy aspects of the funeral industry.
…

And yet, I am also drawn to the light, to Spirit and finding my True Self. Much of that search has happened alone, in my studio with a pen and journal or piece of chalk and paper, wrestling with my interior and also God. I usually have no idea what is happening in the moment. But it’s often a trip of sorts into the murkiness, where things are seething – a kind of soup. When I journey there, I am not alone, the light (Spirit/God) accompanies me, prodding me to the encounter, shedding illumination and even occasional grace. Understanding can be ephemeral, very slow in arriving or ineffable. Assuredly a lot has been lost on me.

I do keep a record and that has been so powerful in claiming my authenticity. It verbalizes, makes it concrete and teaches me reality. And yet, I fear sharing this reality. Afraid some won’t “get” it, label me looney tunes, or suggest I’m not this or that, including Christian.

I have begun to share because I am called to do so more widely. I am learning that even though it does not speak to everyone, I am surely called here nevertheless. To this path. My path. Not someone’s else’s. Whether it be the dark shadows or golden daylight.


• What’s the deeper lesson of my idiosyncratic likes/interests – ones I may often discount?
• Where do I prefer to live: the light or dark?
• Where am I being called to live?
• How do I transition if it is from one to the other?
• What keeps me steady on my path, even if I feel misunderstood?



red-eyed demons,
gnashing teeth
all muddled
up

somewhere
between
imagination
and reality

interior
and exterior

do I deny
their existence
to feel
acceptance

or

follow
my guide

into
the internal
murkiness
toward
the eternal,

of
self discovery
Truth,
even grace?

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?

Room of my own

I was fierce today. Like a mother protecting her cubs.

Only I was protecting my turf: my weekly time in my art studio that so often gets eaten up by something else. Today I stood firm and didn't let it. I just couldn't.

I give in too often, but not today. Why was today so important? I'm not sure, but I journaled about my reaction and discovered this is the place I feel most safe to be who I truly am. No one else's apprehensions, opinions, thoughts, attitudes. No one else's anything. Just mine.

I had not realized how easily I shed other people when I make the short walk from my back porch to my detached garage. It's the only place that seems possible. It is like entering another world. One full of color, vibrancy, creation, life and only the color, vibrancy, creation and life I choose to let in.

It's also the place I feel most at home with God/Spirit, where I can be who really am and who I am there often includes many inner children, not tended anywhere else. It is where I am truly fed.

It was sad to realize I don't get that in my faith community because there's always some obligation, one more person to see, one more thing to do. I do get fed there, but not as unconditionally as I do in my studio. Probably because that's where my direct connection to God is best nurtured. I have had those kinds of experiences in worship, but then I leave my sea of contemplation for the land of real people. People for whom I really care and, therein may lie the catch. I need down time to nurture myself. As a nurturer, I love that work, but I also can't starve myself. I stupidly try at times and get to experience the results. Usually not favorably.

I am always a different person, a better person, when I emerge from any time in my studio. Thank God I have a place like that!

• How do I nurture myself? • Do I do it regularly? • Is there somewhere I can totally escape? • If not, how can I make that happen? • When I don't, what are the consequences?


I pull the kitchen door shut
and it closes out so much.
My mind is focused on
opening the porch door,traversing the stone
steps across the lawn,
while balancing a teapot,
cup and too many other things.
I am forced to put down
whatever is in my hands
to open the catproof latch
at the bottom
of the garage door.
Pick up my things,
close that door.
Set my things down
again to turn on the lights
located outside my studio,
open the screen door,
secure it with my favorite
mini boulder from Vermont,
then turn the handle on
the purple wooden door,
which is hinged in
the opposite direction.
Regather my things and
FINALLY enter my space.
My heart always sings
when I get inside and
shut the world away
... at least for awhile.
The short, but complicated
journey from back door
to studio has become a
relished meditation that
readies me to remember
who I really am.

Where my desire meets the world's need

I had a flash today. A very vivid and chilling flash.

It's no secret that I have been working on a book of words and images, culled from my journals over the last ten years. It's what makes my heart sing and where God calls me.

The one has spilled into two volumes of prose, poetry and paintings as I stumble through life authentically seeking my way. I know it has power.

Well, mostly. Occassionally that nasty critic kicks in and I lose sight momentarily.

The manuscripts are completed and cleanly edited (enough to begin sharing if my perfectionist side will relax). I am still working on matching paintings, filling glaring holes and fitting them with the text. I have titles and a vision for covers. That they will be separate small paperbacks, but one hardbound set encased in a beautifully covered box. Maybe even a high-art set I create in limited number and sign.

Last week, I began to research the publishing world as I am uncertain about whether to self publish (hum ... use my design and marketing skills ... although it's always easier to promote someone else) or begin soliciting some of the big guys. There's also on demand and a bazillion options, which is good, but daunting.

As a part of that exploration, I visited Barnes and Noble to see what new titles are out there, which publishers may be prime targets and where my book(s) may fit. I even noted specific editors of periodicals that seemed similar in tone to mine (the old reporter at work).

I found absolutely nothing like what I am creating. And that was affirming, which is not the reaction I might have expected. Sitting across from a section of books where I could see mine resting, I opened my canvas satchel and gingerly pulled out the green and orange school folders holding my words, my heart, my wisdom, my life.

A bolt of energy sizzled through me and a flash of knowledge that these volumes – my work – belong here. There is a place for it ... the place where my deep desire meets the world's great need.* And that is the place for which I have been mightily and wearily searching.

*Paraphrase of my favorite Frederick Beuchner quote that vocation is "the place where your deep gladness meets the world's deep need."

• What drives the creative life?

• My creative life?

• Am I ready to share myself with the world?

• How will the world respond?

• How will I?

• Can I keep God in my pocket as I make this journey?

The day I searched Barnes and

Noble's shelves for a

book like mine.

The day I opened my messy

manuscripts in orange and

green school folders in

the spiritualty and religion section

of the book store.

Then, I was certain not

only did my book have

a place here, but there

is a real need for

my words, my heart,

my experience.

This is where my deep desire

meets the world's great need.

Thank you!