in clover: listen to my word....

When I was a little girl, I talked A LOT.  My family nicknamed me "Jabberwocky."  Sometimes, out of necessity and for the sake of her sanity, my mother would "tune" me out.  I understand.  My children are jabberwockys too.  There are times when I just can't take it in and I tune them out. 

Sometimes, when I was a very small girl, sensing my mother's distraction, I would pull on her sleeve and say, "Listen to my word.  Mommy, listen to my word." We've always thought that a funny and odd thing for a little girl to say.

Last Wednesday night my spiritual direction group wrapped up a month long exploration of Celtic spirituality.  I shared this incredible blessing from John O'Donohue.   I thought it particularly appropriate on that night.

 
For longing

Blessed be the longing that brought you here
And quickens your soul with wonder.

May you have the courage to listen to the voice of desire
That disturbs you when you have settled for something safe.

May you have the wisdom to enter generously into your own unease
To discover the new direction your longing wants you to take.

May the forms of your belonging - love, creativity and friendship -
be equal to the grandeur and the call of your soul.


 May the one you long for long for you.

May your dreams gradually reveal the destination of your desire.

May a secret providence guide your thought and nurture your feeling.

May your mind inhabit your life with the sureness
with which your body inhabits the world.

May your heart never be haunted by ghost-structures of old damage.

May you come to accept your longing as divine urgency.

May you know the urgency with which God longs for you.

John O’Donohue

With a handful of dark green pipe cleaners and some quick instruction, we set out to weave a St. Brigid cross, mindfully.  Despite my reassurances that whatever you created or didn't create, it was ok, the important part was experience, well, really, the opening to the experience, folks were nervous about doing things "right.".  No matter how many times I said it, they had trouble accepting that the outcome was of little or not consequence. 

Brigid Crosses are traditionally woven from reeds.  I had a bag of materials in the garage, saved for the occasion but Michael unknowingly "decluttered" them.  In the end I decided on pipe cleaners because I knew it would be easier for their unfamiliar fingers to manage and might help keep our focus on the meditation, rather than making a perfect cross.   I said over and over again, "Remember, it's just a pipe cleaner!"   

But even so, as we wove our pipe cleaner crosses, you could feel the judgment (and tension) begin to build.  

For most of us, our minds told us that we were:

inferior or superior
too perfect or too sloppy
too fast or too slow
too determined or too hesitant
too focused or too scattered

The interesting thing to me was the nature of this judgement. This was not the "judging of one's neighbor" that we are warned against in the Bible.   

This was different.  

We didn't judge the woman to our left or the woman to our right or the woman across the room.  We judged ourselves, pure and simple. 
We were so judgmental of ourselves,  we had no choice but to laugh at ourselves.  The only other option would have been to judge ourselves for being so judgmental! 

Do you see what tricks the mind plays? 

That voice that urges you to peek at your neighbor out the corner of your eye...to check your measure against your friends...that voice is not God. The voice that says you are not good enough is never the voice of God. That voice is not Holy or Sacred and that voice surely does not speak Truth.  That is a small, small voice. It only sounds big because it is trapped in your head...it's bouncing around and echoing off the walls of your mind until you can hear nothing else. 

That small voice should not be able to drown out the love and longings that God speaks to you,  but all too often we ignore the God-Voice that says we are beautiful, we are powerful, we are loved.  We only hear that small, small voice that says we are not enough. It's small but it's loud and man oh man is it ever persistant. 

We can't quite tune in to the God station....

we create our own static.... 

we can't quite make out the voice of the Divine.

But if we will stop and listen and acknowledge and reach out...if we share our small thoughts and big fears with trusted soul friends, we can turn the volume down on that small voice.  We can remove the static and tune into Love. 

When those small, mean thoughts cross my mind, my friend and mentor taught me to say, "Hello, old friend.  Not today."  I can choose to let those small thoughts pass on by.  You can too.

Recently a friend sent me this quote from Sue Monk Kidd's book The Dance of the Dissident Daughter. 

"Mindfulness has been called a powerful form of self-healing by many teachers and practitioners. How this process creates healing is part mystery and part grace. Somehow in a slow, hidden way, we're able to be with the depths of ourselves--our true natures, our souls--while at the same time observing our thoughts and feelings and not becoming caught up in them."  

May you have the courage to listen to the voice of Love.
May you have the courage to reveal your true nature. 

Can you feel me pulling on your sleeve? 

"Listen!  Listen!  Listen to my word!

You are beautiful 
You are powerful
You are magnificent
You are infinite
You are eternal
You are loved

You ARE enough

Namaste, 

Lisa 

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in clover: courage, in color

Brene Brown has this to say about courage: 

The root of the word courage is cor -- the Latin word for heart. In one of its earliest forms, the word courage had a very different definition than it does today. Courage originally meant to speak one's mind by telling all one's heart.

Over time, this definition has changed, and, today, courage is more synonymous with being heroic. Heroics are important and we certainly need heroes, but I think we've lost touch with the idea that speaking honestly and openly about who we are, about what we're feeling, and about our experiences (good and bad) is the definition of courage.

Heroics are often about putting our life on the line. Courage is about putting our vulnerability on the line. If we want to live and love with our whole hearts and engage in the world from a place of worthiness, our first step is practicing the courage it takes to own our stories and tell the truth about who we are. It doesn't get braver than that.

Recently I had the pleasure of shopping for art supplies.  They have been sitting in a bag in our breakfast nook, tempting Little C (and me) almost beyond comprehension but we’ve managed to restrain ourselves and tonight we break out the pristine paper and fresh markers, pencils and pastels.  Tonight the ChristCare group I lead will begin a Lenten practice inspired by the book “Praying in Color” by Sybil Macbeth.  Those who show up for Cultivating Mindfulness tonight will meditatively pray for friends and loved ones, through drawing and coloring.

We’ll express these prayers visually and in vivid color.  No words required.   In the weeks that follow we will intentionally focus on portions of our lives that we wish to pray for…in color.  We will pay attention to and acknowledge personal challenges, our growing edges...we'll even draw the whiny, stinky, childish parts of our lives that the author says calls for compost prayers.  We will name our gifts.  We will express our gratitude.   We will chronicle our spiritual histories.  In the end we will hold prayer filled visual images…icons, if you will…that not only represent the prayer that guided their creation but will also serve as a visual reminder to remain in or return to prayer. 

Some in the group are very excited.  Some have bought their own sketch books and markers and colored pencils, anticipating this particular prayer practice might just stick.  Some are quite anxious. They are concerned because they do not consider themselves “creative” or “artistic.”  Some are both excited and anxious. Some are afraid.  In her book, The Dance of the Dissident Daughter, Sue Monk Kidd says, “I cannot tell you how many women I meet who say, ‘Oh, I’m just not creative.’   It breaks my heart, because every woman IS creative in some way, and every woman’s creativity is valuable.” 

It breaks my heart, too.  Over and over again, I have heard it.  Many times it has been my own voice, ringing in my ears.  

I have a couple of cameras and I truly love using them.  I know that material things can’t bring true happiness but there a few things I would really, really miss if I lost them.  My camera would top the list.  I can remember, as a pre-teen, watching my Dad use his Minolta SLR.  I wanted that camera.  Bad.  I had a Kodak Instamatic but to me, that small instamatic was not a REAL camera.  My Dad’s camera was REAL.  I wanted to thread film and change lenses.   I wanted the bag full of gear and I wanted that big, bulky camera hanging by a strap around my neck.  I took a photography class my senior year of high school and had access to a real camera, a Nikon, and a darkroom but it wasn’t until Michael and I were engaged that I graduated from owning an instamatic to a more real point and shoot 35 mm…a gift from his folks.  And it wasn’t until Little C was born that I finally splurged and bought a really real digital slr camera and a couple of lenses.  And a bag for all the stuff.  And a tripod.  It came with the strap. 

Once I saw a status on FaceBook that read, “Buying a camera does not make you a photographer.  Just sayin.”   

As someone who had finally acquired a real camera and was enjoying taking what I felt like were, for the first time in my life, real photographs, this really pissed me off.   I sat and stewed for a good long time.  And then I realized that as much as I hated to admit it, this person is correct.  Buying a camera does not make you a photographer.  But buying a camera and using it to capture images sure does.  Using that camera, no matter the results, absolutely makes you a photographer.  Just sayin. 

No one has an exclusive claim on creativity.  NO ONE. But it does take courage, the kind of of courage Brene Brown speaks of, to claim your creativity.  It takes a willingness to lean into, rather than run from, feelings of extreme vulnerability.  It takes turning a deaf ear to those voices in your head that whisper or perhaps shout, “You are not a REAL artist.”  

In her book, "The Dance of the Dissident Daughter," Sue Monk Kidd says that we must begin by acknowledging our creativity and then “Second, we must explore it.  Ask yourself, “What is my deepest passion, really?  What moves me profoundly?”  And let the answer float up from the truest, most vulnerable place in your heart.  Greet this answer like it is your newborn self being placed in your arms.  Love it.  Bond with it.  Feed it.  Don’t push it aside, minimize, make excuses, and starve this thing of beauty, because this answer is a window into your creative life.” 

Finally Monk Kidd acknowledges that we need to commit to our creative path. She says she meets many women “with books inside them they never write down….women with all kinds of dazzling projects their souls have concocted that for some reason they never get around to manifesting.”  She talks about the difference between “sacred dawdling” and “resistance to act” but in the end, she says, “The main thing is to stop struggling and nourish yourself.  When you nourish yourself, your creative energy is renewed.  You are able to pick up your lyre again and sing.”

And so tonight I look forward to being nourished.  I look forward to being with a group willing to abide to a covenant of vulnerability.  I look forward to connecting with God…to telling my story and listening to theirs.  We will be praying and meditating and drawing and coloring.  This group of creative and courageous women, despite their anxiety and discomfort and fear, will show up to pray for others…maybe for you.  And they will be praying in color.  

Namaste, 

Lisa