Some of you have asked me why I have not been writing....I'm not saying for sure but I am mostly convinced that perfectionism has something to do with it.
Author Anne Lamott has this to say about the "p" word:
“Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people.
It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life...”
So...Thanksgiving, in a less than perfect post:
The THREE of us (Big C is a college freshman now...with a car...and a schedule of his own) traveled back to my home, in Western Kentucky, as is our custom. My Dad holds space for us to be together, whoever WE might be, in a great big house he insists on calling a cabin on Kentucky Lake. My brother and his sweet family came this year, an unusual occurrence. Big C met us there. My aunt and uncle and my cousin live near by. Other loved ones didn't make it this year....we'll keep our fingers crossed for next year.
I usually assist my Dad with the turkey but this year I assisted my brother who has a knack in the kitchen. He turned out a really fine bird....very pretty AND tasty!
We took walks in the woods before and after we ate cherry pie. Three of 'em, to be exact. Pies, that is. The dogs swam in the lake.
I brought homemade blackberry jam and my brother made biscuits for breakfast.
Little c and her cousins played with dolls and made quilt forts.
Harper the Dog wrestled day and night with my brother's dog and my Dad bought some dog bowls to keep at the cabin because "we have dogs now."
My cousin brought her new baby who looks just like she did as a baby. I kept saying that until someone found old photos to prove it! We all passed the baby around, admired her kick ass shoes and made silly faces to amuse her.
My aunt made her famous artichoke dip AND she made her famous spinach dip AND she made a fuss over the "cowboy candy" I brought for the first time this year....I gave her the rest of the jar to take home with her. Her mama came to dinner too. Generations of Us.
We listened to old songs on a fancy new speaker we could all control from our phones (FUN!) and found some new (warning: not fit for all audiences!) favorites.
On the day after Thanksgiving, we moved the stack of pies and coconut cake off the counter to make room for leftovers. Left down low, my brother's dog helped himself to a 1/4 of a triple layer coconut cake AND the plastic wrap that was covering it. In about 2 bites. While no one was looking. And no one got pissy. EVEN though we really, REALLY like the coconut cake my aunt buys from the Senior Citizens Holiday Bake Sale.
We drank craft beer and lots of wine and tea, iced and hot. Michael fixed us oatmeal for breakfast. We talked about getting older and growing up. Maybe. Someday. We fell asleep early and woke up early and finally managed to stay up til 10:30 on the last night.
Dad's wife left early to catch a plane because her new grandbaby was born! On my niece's birthday! We all relived our labor and birth stories in solidarity.
My dear friend sent an email that she lost her mother that night.
My sister in law knitted an Outlander inspired cowl for me. Lickety split! I showed her how to crochet like my Granny showed me. Well, not that good but as good as I know how.
My dad saw a coyote.
I made sure we had too much butter and no one let me forget it.
The turkey brine leaked all over the made-one-day-ahead sweet potato casserole.
I FORGOT my camera (but my uncle loaned me his!).
I thought I found a geode, but it was just a rock.
I had one job for the day-before-Thanksgiving-last-minute-go-to-the-Wal-Mart-trip.....keep charge of the list. So I left it lying on my bed when I ran back to my bedroom to grab my phone. Wal-Mart isn't exactly close to the cabin. My brother took a picture of it and emailed it to Michael. Whew.
We remembered family sorrows and we were somber.
We poked fun at one another.
We laughed. A lot.
If perfectionism is the enemy, I am so glad we had a less than perfect Thanksgiving. But it seemed pretty perfect to me.
Blessings to all ya'll.
Namaste,
Lisa
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A few days ago, I realized that the Facebook page that supports this blog, In clover, was at 196 "likes." I recall the day the page reached 100 likes, which was very exciting indeed. It has been at least one year to reach 100 more. This blog and the In Clover page are growing....slowly, slowly growing. On a good day, I do my best not to focus on how many or how few subscribers and "likers" there are. Instead, as author Stephen Pressfield said in a recent interview with Oprah, I attempt to focus on simply putting my "ass in the chair." In front of a computer. Now, type! It's been hard to do that lately but here I am again, typing. The thing that allowed me to start again was author Anne Lamott's reflection that the starting place is almost always a "shitty first draft."
Now that I have graduated and I have an opportunity to see as many directees as the Spirit sends my way, my spiritual direction practice is also growing....slowly, slowly growing. As far as paid work, I now have four "directees" that I meet with quite regularly. I have also been priviledged to lead or co-lead a few retreats for other organizations for pay and I am looking forward to offering my own brand of weekend retreats soon. As far as unpaid ministry, I continue to work weekly with the group called Cultivating Mindfulness at Central Christian Church. We practice meditation, mindfulness exercises, contemplative group engagement and group spiritual direction. Cultivating Mindfulness, now in it's fourth year, has recently experienced some exciting growth, inviting us to move into a larger room at the church for our time together.
If I am honest, I will admit that I am both encouraged and discouraged at the same time. For one thing, people are really, really busy. Most folks have little time for this kind of work. But that biggest barrier I notice is that many people have never heard of "spiritual direction" before. And yet, I hear many, many people expressing themselves in ways that leaves me certain that they crave the experience of spiritual direction. The problem is that most us lack the language to express it. Because we've never heard of it.
And often, after you try to explain it, folks wonder if it's something really strange....
....or why in the world you would pay someone to listen to you.
Or they completely misunderstand and think that a director will tell them what to think, believe or do. That either makes them very uncomfortable or very comfortable but either way, it's a misunderstanding of what direction is.
Recently, while perusing my newsfeed on FaceBook, I noticed Parker Palmer's facebook status immediately. (I also noticed that Parker Palmer has 29, 322 likes on his FaceBook page)
"When
was the last time someone asked you an honest, open question—one that
invited you to reflect more deeply on your own life, asked by a person
who did not want to advise you or "fix" you but "hear you into speech,"
deeper and deeper speech?
For most of us, that's a rare
experience. In our culture, we tend to ask each other questions that are
"fixes" or advice in disguise. "Have you thought about seeing a
therapist?" is NOT an honest, open question!
But when we share a problem
with someone who wants to listen and knows how to ask honest, open
questions... Now we have a chance to learn from our own inner teacher, to tap
into own inner wisdom."
Palmer is dead on with this quote. He has articulated eloquently the importance and the beauty of participating in spiritual direction. This "rare experience" is what happens in a spiritual direction session.
It doesn't have to be such a rare experience.
It seemed important to me that I share that with you.
There you have it....my shitty first fifth draft.
Namaste,
Lisa
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