Giving me what I need

Last week, I talked about my Quaker ministry for our Meeting's first Quaker Quest session, intended to draw those interested in Quakerism  into an informal experience of our unique worship and community. Several people told me they'd never heard the complete story, so I decided to share it here, in the two parts in which I presented.

...

Eight years ago, seemingly out of the blue, my daughter’s teacher called asking if I’d help in the art room with 40 first graders armed with scissors. I immediately said yes and found that every third day that school year became a blessing. Especially witnessing that kids from my own neighborbood in subsidized housing could really shine when expressing themselves. Marginalized elsewhere, they could be themselves when creating.

And, I held that idea for six years. It continued to haunt me and I was prayerful and consulted other Quakers about this over the years. We call this discernment.

As the idea grew stronger, I took a silent personal retreat in the woods to sort it all out.  I was randomly assigned to a cabin called “Simplicity.” On the table inside lay a Quaker pamphlet on simplicity. As I began to read, I understood why I was placed here: to clear my heart and do what Eileen Prevallet calls “listening for the decision, rather than making the decision.” She writes that “it comes from an inner silence in which a delicate inner sensor is at work… you know when the call is for you, and when it is not.”

I came away confident that Spirit was now calling me to act on this leading. After obtaining 2 Quaker grants, I rented a studio in an old classroom in a neighborhood repurposed school. It was in walking distance of me and the kids and there was no question that this was the spot to begin. With a lot of help and prayer, I began to piece together a program. I’d had the name, Artsy Fartsy Saturdays, a logo and list of volunteers in a folder tucked away for years. This was really happening.

That was over two years ago and Artsy Fartsy has attracted almost 20 regular kids, funding from ArtsWave that also supports the area biggies such as the Cincinnati Opera, Ballet and Art Museum, the Clermont County Mental Health and Recovery Board (no better way to build self esteem and resistance to peer pressure and negative influences than a venue for self expression) and Cincinnati Friends Meeting.

Our mission is:

To provide local, at-risk middle schoolers with a safe, imaginative environment in their neighborhood to explore creative expression, be nurtured, tap their creativity, connect, share themselves, be heard and affirmed and become more of who they are. This is a place they can relax, be kids and express themselves.

I’m not sure this could have transpired without my grounding in Quakerism, which, most of all, has taught me the value of silence and deep listening. I would have never heard the call otherwise. There were people of faith who would actually listen to what seemed impossible, crazy or out of the box. They listened and supported this ministry from the beginning … even when I didn’t know, exactly, what it was. I have also felt very accompanied on this journey by the legacy of other Quakers over time and in this Meeting stepping out. It’s what we do.

I was privileged this summer to spend time in London with a book written by a Quaker ancestor in 1661. I had heard about Dorothea all of my life, even though our family had long ago left Quakerism. I returned 15 years ago. There is only one copy of her book and her story of being led to the Religious Society of Friends speaks to how I feel about Quakers and their support of ministry to which I have been called.

“I heard they were a people could lay down their lives for one another, that they were of one heart and one minde.”

So while Artsy Fartsy, on the surface, seems to be about art, it’s more about showing kids with next to nothing that they are loved, valued and children of God through action and not words.  It is connecting hand to hand and heart to heart.

Here’s a poem written when a poet visited our first year by a now 8^th grader, who spent last year as a mentor:

Artsy Fartsy is the best

Artsy Fartsy will pass the test

Artsy Fartsy is so much fun

Artsy Fartsy is number one.

You don’t come to fart.

You come to make art.

So come on down.

Bring a crown and not a frown.

But if you do, Artsy Fartsy

will turn that frown upside down.

So come on down to that old school.

Come on and grab your stool.

Sit and help us paint the scene.

Sit and make some masks and

grab a cape made for a queen

You feel like art’s a boor [bore]

come on down and see some more.

Did you know that Yoga’s a form?

Go through a maze with your finger,

It’s a labyrinth.

Artsy Fartsy is the best.

Artsy Fartsy will pass the test!!

I think she speaks for all of us involved!

• When has Spirit moved me to action?
• How did I test the leading?
• How was I able to give it time, letting it mature?
• What individuals and/or community encouraged and nurtured me?
• What have been the fruits of this action?



in the quietness
of solitude and
the woods

I waited on God,
who wrote upon
my heart in words
immutable

a dark and restless
night strove to 
erase them

in response, I
was summoned
to the labyrinth

walking through
tears of fear
to reach the heart

how can I possibly
do this? I asked

it is just
too much

I looked up
to see Jesus
there with me

offering:
"I will give
you what you need"

Listen to this post:

Falling in love with myself again

Listen to this post:

Once again, I have taken up temporary residence in a cabin called Simplicity. I seem to come back, again and again, to this theme. Here it is concrete; in this aesthetically plain one-room retreat of re-claimed materials. It is a place I can re-claim my life away from the material world and closer to Spirit’s realm.

My prayer last night, after arriving and settling in just before 5:30 silent worship, was this:

Dear God ­Please be with me on this retreat.
I desire simplicity in my life.
That means surrendering my fears,
tendency to measure life and live bythe world’s conventions, which
constrict and constrain me.
As those die, I ask you to replace them
with creativity, experiencing life as a prayer,
bowing to Jesus and re-claiming my soul.Amen

After a fitful, dream-laden sleep and a yoga practice, I walked to the labyrinth, my fears bubbling up, seeking to pray off the layers. I entered intent on leaving them at the center. I began silently chanting “I know I have Jesus” over and over, then searching, pleading, “but I am looking for someone to teach me from the world.”

Who should pop into my head, but my husband, the one who claims to practice no spirituality? I questioned. Yes, that one. The one I gave you as a partner … you are not alone in this world. It was almost too obvious an answer for me. Then I began to see the light: “Ah, the one who is playful, doesn’t taken himself seriously, prefers not to worry, wants to create on his terms and doesn’t accept the world’s.” And also, in some respects, his carbon copy, Lily. Ok, so Jesus is my spiritual model and Tad is my in-the-world, how-to-navigate it partner … I got it!

Guidance at the center came in the form of an exercise: “sift the fears of truth from non-truth. This sifting will bring clarity and simplicity.”

In my cabin, I created a chart labeled fear/real/truth and dealt with them. In discerning where I can let go and where I must work, two queries arose:

• How can I be MORE of myself?

• How can I live in that place between the material and spiritual worlds, between the layers where it is more peaceful?

Those answers really are merging into one as a new reality and way to live forms for me. I am haunted by something I read last night, a Thomas Merton quote, someone wrote in the cabin guest book:

 “When I am liberated by silence, when I am no longer involved in the measurement of life, but in the living of it … my whole life becomes a prayer.”

That’s precisely what I desire. I seek a constant awareness of God so that my breath is prayer. For me, that means:

– A daily practice of gratitude and another of emptying the daily stresses and fears. I require a morning meditation/prayer and one for evening. One that I create for myself.

– Exercising loving kindness, particularly on myself, and releasing my pattern of judgment of criticism of others and myself.

– Maintaining loving relationships.

– Reconnecting and centering daily, but also regular retreats to re-balance, such as this one, and spending time in nature, among God’s creation.

– Engaging in meaningful work.

– Showing my vulnerability and undertanding that other’s reactions are projections of their own wounds, not their judgment of me.

– Falling in love with myself again.

Simple. And freeing … here. Can I do it at home?

• What role does simplicity play in my life?

• What would my prayer be around it?

• What fears am I driven to explore, possibly cast aside?

• How can I do that work?

• How am I called to be MORE of myself?

MORE OF WHO YOU ARE

Be MORE of who you are.

Not less or who anyone else says you are.

Listen deeply, inside, to know who you are.

Not outside.

Listen to your heart.

To me [God].

To love.

Love is always the answer.

Live in love.

Respond in love.

Act in love.

Love.

Synchronicity of simplicity

Listen to post:

As I was grabbing a few things to pack for this retreat, I uncovered the Journal of [Quaker] John Woolman and decided to leave it behind as I had enough books to tote. My mother, not a Quaker, had recently been cleaning, found the copy and passed it on to me. Eventually, I thought, I’ll read it, but not on this retreat. Besides, I was heading to a convent, nowhere Quaker.


In a welcoming e-mail, Susan, the retreat director, said I’d be staying in a cabin called “Simplicity.” Perfect, I thought; sounds pretty Quaker. While scouting out my one of the seven cabins, I came across, “Hope,” “Wonder,” and “Namaste´,” before uncovering mine. Why was I assigned Simplicity? I asked myself. Surely any of the others seemed to hold more significance for me: hope in figuring out my next steps in life, wonder at spending quiet time in nature and with God, Namaste´ because I practice yoga regularly and adore that word. Of course, I always want to simplify, but that wasn’t my intention for this retreat. That’s such a mundane, everyday kind of thing. But, come to think of it, I’m not really clear what my goal is, except to get away alone and write.


As I was settling in, Susan came by and welcomed me and, as she was providing a rich and endearing history of this commune of hermitages, permanent dweller Elaine arrived, asking Susan to move her truck. We were introduced and I was drawn to look Elaine square in the eyes and hold that gaze while saying: “I was led here.” Woops, that surprised me. She had a knowing face. Our gaze broke and she was off. So was Susan and I explored outside on my own.


After a rigorous afternoon crossing creeks, pausing at the labyrinth and peeking at the other, unoccupied cabins, I headed in to grab some tea and reflection time prior to the 5:30 daily prayer in the chapel only a few steps away. This is perfect, I told myself.


I picked up a journal with entries from others who have coveted their time at this cabin and was immediately mesmerized. One kept quoting Prevallet, who had some petty insightful things to say about simplicity. I soon discovered this author penned a Quaker Pendle Hill Phamplet entitled “Reflections on Simplicity.” This writer was a nun with a wonderful theological education (Ph.D) and a year spent studying Zen Buddhism in China. She also happened to teach spirituality and Scripture during a two-year tenure at Pendle Hill, a Quaker contemplative community near Philadelphia.


I mentioned to Susan after silent prayer that I had noticed the simplicity pamphlet. “Oh, yes,” she responded. “Elaine wrote that.” The Elaine with whom I’d shared a deep moment upon arriving. The synchronicity was a little too uncomfortable. In that same conversion, I also learned that a member of my Quaker meeting, Pauletta, had just spent time here. Spooky as I had brought her book of poetry, the gift of a small-press publisher/friends who had given it to me for my birthday though we’ve never really verbalized our Pauletta connection. I’ve known these friends well before I was ever Quaker.
After prayers and before and during dinner, I dove into the book on simplicity. Elaine's words, like her eyes, immediately reached in and grabbed me with “I listen for the decision rather than make the decision” in a discourse on basing them from your center, the place connected to God. And then she began to quote from John Woolman’s Journal. You know, the one I didn’t bring. And then I read more things that are exactly what I need to hear to discern my next steps and it really is all about simplicity.


So I am here, where I am supposed to be, savoring every moment. This is retreat.


• How have I experienced synchronicity?
• How long did it take me to connect that it was?
• How am I more open as a result?
• What’s the synchronicity of simplicity in my life?
• What is my usual mode for decision making?






only took me a year
to get here


can’t even really
tell you how I found it


or why I came now
of all times


except that it was
out of desperation


to be alone
and with God
and to listen


and to follow my sister
Pauletta and meet
my teacher Eileen,
be nurtured by Susan


and let my whole being
rest in the Godfulness
of this time and space

Solstice, solace and Spirit

I am planning a winter sabbatical soon. Time away with no distractions and the chance to delve deeply into my real work: my book and myself. When I'm here, things easily get in the way and the book patiently waits.

I also think this very forceful nudging is a response to the holidays: the expectation, obligation and tradition as well as weeks of a big push all for ONE day. Yes, I find Christmas Eve magical, but the day after makes me shake my head in wonder. I agree with early Quakers that every day should be lived as if it is sacred, not just one or two days out of the year.

I have really cut back on gifts, commitments, cards, baking and a whole lot else. I do more trimming every  year and each Dec. 26 I feel more and more like giving up the tradition completely, but I am not certain how that would sit with other family members. I may need to find out.

I am certain that I need to live more simply and that begins with me getting away by myself to a small place in the woods with only my book and the bare essentials. Who knows, I may be climbing the walls after the first day. I do believe it will take a few days to find my rhythm; the one warped by our culture's mushrooming pace.

I did it once before, but with a different intention. I spent a week in Italy alone to immerse myself in the culture, art, food, language and people. It was a tough lesson and I texted my best friend at midnight the second night: "Why did I think I was an introvert?"

This time, I hope I am more prepared. I'll have even less distraction. I believe winter suits this. I'll be holed up, but that's where my spirit calls. I heard an amazing musician on pbs yesterday say winter is for reflection, which has always been my reaction. We're forced inside literally and figuratively. It's also the time I feel more alive, more embodied and in tune. It's the season of my birth. A season that suits introverts.

It seems as if I am the only one among my friends who welcomes the solace and hunkering down; they're ready to keep making merry with large groups well after the holidays. Not I. I am so very ready for the quiet of my own spirit. And the quiet in which to seek Spirit's direction.

• How do the holidays leave me feeling?
• What type of break do I need after?
• When, where and how does simplicity call me?
• In what way(s) can I invite that into my life?
• In way way(s) can I invite Spirit deeper into my life?


lists
duties
obligations
expectations


converge


so that a time and space
once reserved for
reflection, gratitude and praise
becomes something else entirely


something from which I
wish to disengage


so I may re-engage
with myself and, mostly,
Spirit

Desperately seeking stillness

This time of year is always hardest to find stillness. And that seems so counter to what the season is supposed to be: remembrance, gratitude, humility, compassion and reflection to name a few.

I feel winter is MY season; partly because I was born in January, partly because I like to hunker down, be indoors, snug and introspective and also because the briskness clears my eyes, mind and soul. I layer up to go out and yet my cheeks tingle with the rouge of cold, my hair sparkles, my eyes twinkle and seem capable of holding more. I feel very bodily alive.

But the madness of invitations, obligations, inordinate gift-giving, incessant distraction and over expectation rear their ugly heads. I am learning not to give into the cultural flow. For me, it's a matter of survival and not getting swallowed up in the stream of tradition racheted up and whacked out.

I do participate, but in a reduced manner. I have embraced the Quaker idea that every day is sacred, so one day, such as Christmas or Easter, should be no more sacred than another. Christmas is merely a date on the calendar someone, sometime declared as a Holy Day, a holiday. There aren't actual, historical ties to the date. In fact, I read the organized church chose December to celebrate Jesus' birth because there were already so many solstice celebrations and it seemed an easy entree´ into those traditions.

My feelings about this time of year were reflected back to me yesterday in my Quaker meeting's (church) business session, which is called worship with attention to business. Once again, we were discussing how our committee structure was draining the congregation. Some groups are functioning well, but half are not, although energy has swelled informally around certain areas where needs are being met. One suggestion was to exchange the layers of committees that require clerks, reporting and regular meetings for informal task forces. The word task really spoke to me of obligation, expectation and legacy, although I know that is not what its proponents meant. Then the idea surfaced (the ways solutions do when a group is worshipfully conducting business and concepts arise that could not in any other way, with Spirit guiding and those present prayerfully listening and discerning) that the struggling committees take a brief hiatus and we see where the energy arises.

That so reminds me of the insight I was provided a little over a year ago during a retreat on spiritual restlessness: "If you can't do it with love, then don't do it."

For me, that's also applicable this time of year. When I cave into the wave of shoulds, my hearts shrinks to Grinch size. When I hold my own and do what I am called to out of love, it expands. One way of encouraging that expansion is to find regular stillness anytime of year. The simplest is just to follow the breath. When we get worked up and in lockdown mode, we breath so shallowly. Deep, expanding breaths are bodily and spiritually cleansing. Adding a simple prayer (thank you or help) to that breath nudges us deeper, connecting us, grounding us, reminding us who we really are.

• What on my to-do list can I eliminate?
• What am I called to this time of year out of love?
• How do I respond to the seasonal change and do I recognize my body and spirit's natural rhythm?
• What reminder can I create to expand, not contract, my heart?
• In what ways do I pay attention to my breath?


breathe deep
forcing the air
into the abdomen,
down toward
the toes


and slowly
let go 


of the breath and
anything else


that's draining,
constricting


and not me


repeat until
I know who I am
again

Plunging the waste

Am I:
– Full of it (you can add the sh if you wish)
– Stupid or
– Getting it?

I have a hard time knowing. As well as what the difference is.

I have been wrestling with that question since Saturday after a meeting with a highly respected editor who reviewed my book proposal. Right after the meeting, I was bouyed. Just before, someone told me she would be straight forward, which is what I said I wanted.

Basically, she affirmed my gifts of language, image and even content, but said I needed to focus on ONE thing. So why am I somewhat distressed now?

...

This morning at the gym, I discovered the toilet was clogged as I was flushing, so had to beg another, dressed, exerciser to go to the front desk and ask for a plunger. That simple experience came capped with a little red flag wavering: pay attention.

I was mired down, asked for help, received the proper tool, used the tool and corrected the situation.

Isn't that similar to my experience with the editor? I brought my book to the point I could, sought help and was given the tools to "fix" it. Why is that still deflating?

Honestly, maybe because deep down I wanted her to say, "We want your book right now, as is, without your having to do anything. This is wonderfully fresh material no one has ever thought of and you are so brilliant in your use of language and images. This is certain to be a best seller and make you fantastically rich."

What I got was: you are talented, your book has potential, but you have more work to do. It's the more work to do that gets me.

I am sick of the work of this book. I hadn't been until this conference. It's not supposed to be work. Because of its spirituality, I want it to be joyful, creative and fulfilling.

And yet I realize this is all part of the journey, my journey, the book's journey. Just as the book isn't ready, maybe I'm not either. The thought has crossed my mind as I prepared the proposal, outlining all of the marketing and promotion I was prepared to perform. It was a long and exhaustive list. Too much even for the editor. "Give me 5 things, not 25," she said. "When you try to be all things," she added. "you're nothing," I finished.

I am beginning to realize the book is not only about my life, it is or, at least, symbolizes my life. It's one of my mirrors as my husband so graciously put it this morning.

So when I look in the mirror what do I see?

Someone fighting pain regularly.
Someone with more ideas than energy to complete them.
Someone who often feels outside of the mainstream.
Someone struggling to balance her role of mother with that of herself, wife, artist/writer, productive member of society, neighbor, friend, nurturer, Quaker, daughter, sister.

Someone who needs to simplify. To take the plunger and push the waste away.

• What's clogging my life?
• Where may I find the tools to unclog it?
• Is it something I must do or seek assistance?
• What am I ready for at this moment?
• What am I pushing for that isn't right, right now?

I let
it all
in


not
filtering
or
discerning


let it
completely
fill
every
corner


and
before
I realize
it, I
am
stuffed


and some
of
the stuff
competes
with
other
stuff


pushing
and
squeezing
to edge
its
way
into a
better
position




jockeying
within me


and it
takes
someone
else
to
notice


to tell
me


can
I see
this
truth
and


cast
some
out?