Reflections on 2012

The end of another year, and tomorrow we begin a new one. All in all, this has been a really positive year for me. Seems I’ve come home—without ever really understanding how far I had run from home. I’ve come home to my insides. I’ve come home to my spirituality. I’ve come home to everything I’ve run from…

I just remembered this poem I wrote a number of years ago, almost exactly seven years ago:

The Marathon Runner
December 13, 2005

Running

running hard and fast
not with the joy of a marathon runner
who runs for the life of running
but with fear, I run the “run away” running,
running until I can run no more.

The unholy marathon began at 4
when I began running from TrueSelf.
I ran from the friendly universe
from joy and play
from being a “Mama’s girl”
And I ran from trust—
either God or my Self.

And I continued running.
At 9 I began running from sexuality
at 10, from Christmas and the holidays
at 17 from my own choices
from adventure
from creating and “being” an artist.
At 19 I began running from marriage and commitment
At 35 I began running from this New Age,
this paradigm shift I’m destined to be a part of.

Then, at 40, something remarkable happened.
I began to slow down
and I made a turn,
albeit a small turn,
still I slowed down
and made a turn

and I began the long, hard journey home
home to God and home to my Self
home to my childhood
home to joy and play
home to the friendly universe
and home to being a “Mama’s girl”.

Am I there yet?
Am I here?

At 56, if I’m not home
at least I’m no longer running away.
I’m not even jogging anymore
I had slowed down and was walking
just walking
until I decided to hitch a ride
on an elephant.
I have climbed up on the elephant
of all my fearful running,
and now I am riding all the way home.

I wrote that when I was 56; I’m now 62. It’s been a number of years since I read that poem, but it is the story of my life, my fears, and my running. And yes, looking back at that poem, it seems I have come home this year. I have settled it within myself. I am a Christian, albeit it, a very different Christian than I was when I was 40. I don’t know quite as much anymore about everyone else. I’ve discovered that for me, the spirituality of Christianity has called me to attempt to follow Jesus more, not just to worship him. And it’s called for everything about me to change—every single cell, every microfiber. All my values and beliefs have been challenged. What’s left is mine, not what someone else taught me. I’ve learned to accept doubts (both mine and the doubts of others) as part of the equation, not to fear them or condemn them. I’ve learned to be curious, and questions are good. And I just might not ever have the answers, especially for someone else. I’ve learned more about the “wisdom tradition”, and developed more of a “panentheistic” (God IN everything) spirituality. I embrace evolutionary science, as well as evolutionary spirituality. And I know there are many, many paths home.

Finding my ground has been one of the best things about my “coming home”. The ground seems to have finally quit shaking and it seems I have found solid ground once more. My old wineskin broke, but I have a new container, and it seems flexible enough to hold all kinds of new thoughts, questions, ideas, theologies, etc. The Christianity I’ve discovered over the past few years is wide, open, big and glorious. Much thanks to my many, many teachers who’ve broadened and expanded my point of view.

Another good gift of coming home is that I didn’t have to run from the holidays this year. Something happened when my sisters in Grace Group prayed for me back in October, and the Ghost of Christmas past was set free. This has been a miraculous holiday season, with a deep sense of gratitude for all I have and all I’ve experienced. I know that might not seem as big as regaining my stable ground, but it’s huge for me.

As I look over this poem, and the past few years since I’ve written it, I am so grateful for my life, for my husband, my mother and children, for my friends, for my different communities (St. Timothy’s, 3rd Act and the Art League, my “love” ladies, Grace Group, Family Fitness, shoot, even Facebook!). Each one has added such a wonderful dimension to my life. Life is good, and every single part of it belongs.

Black and Beautiful

One of the first things I learned as I soaked in The Song of Songs a number of years ago is that I am beautiful to the Lover of our souls. Flat out beautiful! And so are YOU. We have so many voices speaking to our vises and our "sins"--this is sin and that is sin. If you explore this you're a sinner, if you move in that direction you're a sinner. Martin Luther's picture of our soul's being a dung hill that's simply covered by the blood of Jesus isn't a pretty one. It doesn't give us a chance unless we believe a certain way.

But that's not what I learned from those years in the Song. We are LOVELY. We are SPOTLESS. YOU may see a spot in me, but the Great Lover doesn't. I may see a plank in your eye, but Divine Love sees nothing but beauty. "There is not spot in you...only beauty." Believe it. Nothing to do, nothing to work for, nothing to say, nothing but the voice of the Beloved saying "You are all fair my love; there is no spot in you."

An Open Letter to "Skeptic"

Skeptic – thoughtful, inquiring. a person who believes in or practices philosophical skepticism, a person who habitually doubts, questions, or suspends judgment upon matters generally accepted, a person who doubts religious doctrines.

Hmmm….seems I might be defined as a skeptic, too.

A few days ago, I posted Elissa Elliott’s blog post on my Facebook page and one of my friends commented: “I couldn't agree more. I am a skeptic at heart. What she described is not only agnosticism, but true skepticism. And I hate that the word skeptic is used in such a negative manner among society. A good question to ask would be, " what kind ...of evidence would you need to believe in God?" What people don't seem to understand is that the evidence they are presenting to the atheist is purely subjective, therefore, not evidence at all to another person.”

I have come to appreciate honest skepticism—and skeptics. Didn’t use to—used to really blast the skeptics, that is until I found myself doubting it all.

A friend of mine had a dream a few years back—it was one of those dreams that I knew in my knower was for me. (Dreams can be that way you know—anyone can claim another’s dream for themself. It’s the way of dreams.) She dreamed that she found a fish, almost dead, on the bank of the creek. It was tangled up in knotted fishing line, and still had the hook in its mouth. She sat about trying to free the fish without killing it.

I just knew in my knower that I was the fish, and I was also the one trying to free the fish. In my lifetime, I have swallowed a whole lot of things hook, line, and sinker. This dream came before I entered my season of doubting, but that’s what I realized during that dark night. And I was tangled up in the knots of a lot of religion’s dogma and doctrines that no longer made any sense to me.

One of my favorite nuns at the Cenacle commented in class one day: “One of the things the Church needs to ask forgiveness for is not allowing the questions.” Amen! How the heck does anyone grow to adulthood without asking questions?

It seems that human beings were created, or are programmed, with what might be referred to as a binary operating system (Cynthia Bourgeault). And it works great for most of life. It’s what allows us to sort into categories, organize, define, and prove. But it doesn’t work well for all of life, especially the inner experiences of life. And I think that’s where some of us get all tangled up—we want proof of an experience. We want to define Something indefinable.

A couple of years ago, I realized that the doctrinal view of Trinity that I had always accepted seemed to small for what I had experienced, so I took the liberty of coming up with my own expanded view of trinity: God Beyond, God Beside, and God Within.

God Beyond – what the Buddhist describe as “nothingness”, or “no-thingness”. God before we humans defined “Him” as the old white man in the sky that moves creation around like a puppeteer. God before Michelangelo painted the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. God before the Big Bang. God before Adam/Eve, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
My experience of God Beyond is like the Energy that bursts open a seed bringing it to life and causing it to grow, the cosmic Energy that flows throughout all creation, flowing in, out, around and through all things, making us all one. It’s what we live, move, and have our being in. Another friend pictured it as a wave and an ocean—the ocean can exist without the wave, but the wave cannot exist without the ocean. The ocean gives life to the wave, and the wave is an experience of the ocean. It’s the nebulous, indefinable, beyond all knowing God. Paul Smith, in his book, Integral Christianity, calls it the Infinite Face of God. This is the God my brain loves to zzzzzzt out to, as I ponder and reflect on Infinite God.

God Beside (or the Intimate Face of God) is the God most of us have experienced as Father, Mother, Sister, Brother, Jesus, Holy Spirit, Community—it’s the God I was introduced to about the age of 3. God Beside for me most clearly goes by the name of Jesus. This God is the one I talk to, walk with—it’s my Friend and Confident, my Companion. Most recently I’ve experienced this God often in the faces of members of my communities – God defined with a face, a voice, a word, and a gift. With this God, I am never alone.

God Within (or Smith’s Inner Face of God) is I suspect the God that a lot of Christians find almost blasphemous. It’s that Divine Spark within each of us—our Essence made in the image and likeness of God—it’s the Buddhist “Namaste”. I am the Light of the world, the Salt of the earth. I am the reflection of God—at my deepest core, I always have been and always will be. It’s God that speaks with my voice, and even shows up sometimes in my paintings, no matter how hard I try not to paint her there. Perhaps she’s the one I need to spend time getting to know, because for most of my life, I thought I was rotten at the core—a dung heap, sinful by my very nature. But my experience of God has taught me that I am beautiful and holy in spite of my propensity to appear different. I’m the acorn pretending to be an oak tree. Or as Meister Eckhart pointed out, “the apple seed producing an apple; a God seed growing into the fullness of God. Peter tells me that I have the Divine Seed in me, and that I partake of the Divine Nature. Paul Smith calls it “baby divinity”. That’s pretty heady stuff for a mere human to take in, but take it in, I believe we must.

So, here I am again, thinking about my “skeptic” friend—grateful for her skepticism, and even grateful for my own. That’s part of our evolutionary call. We are all spiritual beings on a human journey, and our call is to be transformed. How can we fulfill our calling if we refuse to question, if we swallow everything hook, line, and sinker, if we never live our lives beyond the Answer Man.

You know, I still haven’t proved God, but I can invite you into an experience of all that is Love, all that is Beautiful, and all that is Holy. Taste and see that the Lord is good. Mmmm….very, very good.

The Rat of My Mind - Getting off the Hamster Wheel

It’s with a grateful heart that I write this morning.

I spent time with my Engaging Scripture practice this morning. The passage was Matthew 21:1 -14, the disciples questioning Jesus about when he was coming back and what the end of time was going to look like.

It came too close on the heels of our “Rapture” guy this weekend. As I read the passage, I felt myself tensing up, contracting on the inside, being frustrated at the stupidity of it all, and frustrated with the point of view that keeps us focused on the negative and the end, instead of today. I could feel the conflict inside of me, as I rushed through today’s Practice to something else that would be more applicable to my current worldview, even a little angry at myself that I couldn’t “get” the Scripture today—surely there had to be a middle ground somewhere.

Engaging Scripture was not a blessing today, and my response was one of internal conflict, frustration, and a feeling of “going backward”.

Then I listened to my on-line class’s weekly session: The Kingdom of Heaven is Within You. As usual, it was Good News, and uplifting. Then, I found the practical application for me TODAY.

Leslie said, “If we’re journeying inside ourselves it’s helpful to know how we get in our own way.”

As she continued talking about our thought patterns and what gets “foregrounded”, it dawned on me that my old cultural worldview was what was being foregrounded as I read that passage from Matthew. And that old worldview demandsthat I get it right—that I interpret Scripture right, and that I live my life right.

There was a day not too long ago, when all I thought about was what the disciples asked Jesus that day: “When are you coming back? What will the signs be?” That’s all I lived for. That was my whole worldview only 10 short years ago. And I was so sure it was right.

But I see with a new pair of glasses today. I see Christ often now-a-days in the faces of those around me, most recently in the face of an elderly lady who sat next to me in church this past Sunday morning. All she said to me was simply, “Thank you,” but I saw Christ in her eyes, and I heard Christ in her voice. Every hair on my arms and neck stood at attention, what Leslie calls “a body buzz”, and I knew that I knew it was Christ who was thanking me, and gratitude flooded my heart as tears stung my eyes.

This new worldview helps me see goodness all around me. It keeps me focused on today, this present moment. It keeps me aware of joy, peace, goodness, beauty, truth, and everything sweet about life, instead of focused on the narrow, the ugly, the end, and everything that’s wrong with the world we live in.

But I often find that there’s still this demand inside of me that this newer worldview be the “right” one.

Today as I listened to Leslie teach, it came to me once more that every point of view is just that, only a point of view—partial and incomplete. I don’t have to figure out that passage; I don’t have to judge whether or not it’s right or wrong to live life that way. I don’t have to judge my own self for feeling frustrated, even angry that I picked up an old pair of lenses to read Scripture with. I don’t have to do anything but feel my feelings, welcome them, and surrender them to Love.

It really doesn’t matter what point of view you or I see, it only matters that we realize it’s a partial point of view. And it only matters that we surrender our demand to have “the right point of view” in the face of Good News, that we are not separated from God: “the One is already here. We are being invited to the feast. We are being invited to participate in that which is greater than ourselves. And there’s even more Good News: Grace itself loves chaos and allows for destruction—chaos and destruction always birth something new. It’s a way of getting our attention; it’s a way of seeing a higher order, an order that can hold more complexity”. (from Leslie’s talk).

It’s ok that my understanding is “messy”, and that my attention wanders, and that I don’t get “it”. It’s even ok that I get frustrated and angry when I read certain passages of Scripture. All I need to do is surrender the frustration, the anger, and the messiness to Divine Love, and relax in the knowing that I’ll never be able to see it or understand it all.

And I find myself relaxing into Love again this morning, breathing deeply and unwinding. I’ve had help catching the rat of my mind running on the hamster wheel of my demanding thoughts. And I’ve been able to stop the wheel, and get off.

Thank you Leslie, for the reminder. Thanks be to God that the Kingdom is within us, just waiting for us to learn to access it and to share it.

Concentric Circles, Learning, and Coming Home

You know, I don't really have a clue where this blog post is going. I thought I knew. I had a plan. But even as I've put the photos above together and looked up the following poem I wrote a number of years ago, I didn't have "it" all. Like I said, I thought I did, but this has been a morning of synchronicities.

It started with watching the videos announcing the classes that Leslie Hershberger will begin teaching online on April 1st.

I watched those videos, and I felt a rush—pure joy. I want to take the 12-week course. I can hardly wait.

I told Mother this morning that I felt 6 again. You get to go to school when you’re 6. I could feel the same energy this morning that I felt way back then—I remembered the full skirt, the starched sash, the freshly curled hair—I can feel that familiar Big Chief tablet in one hand and that fat pencil in the other. And the excitement of that first day of school—real school!

My birthday falls on September 4—3 days past the deadline for public school in those days. And my mother panicked! What to do??? I was o so ready to go to school—and I knew 6 was THE age. ALL 6-year-olds get to go to school! Except those whose birthdays fall after September 1. But my daddy had an idea. He was going to Howard Payne Baptist College in those days, and they had a pre-school and 1st grade for students’ kids. He signed me up.

He’s probably one of the reasons I was so excited! One of my favorite memories is laying in bed at night listening to him and his friends around the kitchen table talking theology, professors, classrooms, and textbooks. O my gosh, I wanted to be like him. I wanted to go to school, and I wanted to preach, too!

I found out later that being a girl limited my capacity to preach like him, and my cultural upbringing and finances limited my ability to go to college. I never took more than a few business courses so I could go to work. But I didn’t get to go to school to learn about GOD! And that’s what my Daddy did.

I didn’t get to do that until I got a chance to go to the Cenacle in Houston. I took a 3-year spiritual direction course. Awesome! I was finally getting to do what I was created to do. Except….

And that’s where this little poem comes in:

“Concentric Circles”

… spoken long ago in yesterday,
between sleeping and waking,
heard again today as if brand new.
Words held out and continually repeated
as Invitation, the call to Mystery.
“Leave your comfort zone,
the safety of this place.
Move to
the next space,
the far distant shore,
the new horizon.”
Each movement
plunging me deeper into Mystery,
yet, always
bringing me Home.


That’s what my spiritual journey has been like—one horizon after another, always invited to move through my fears into the next place.

Kind of like Abraham, fka Abram. Andy preached Abram’s story this morning. Genesis 12:1 Now the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.”

That’s been my story. Twenty years ago, I heard an invitation to “leave your father’s house and go someplace new.” I didn’t know then that I would re-hear the invitation a number of times, but apparently I’m hearing it again today. Too many synchronicities lining up, and this wonderful sense of adventure! And even as I finished this blog piece, it dawned on me that my poem ends with me coming home. And the title of this course is "Coming Home..." O wow!

SoulCollage® - THE EYE OF THE NEEDLE

I am the one who calls you to “Repent!”
You’re thinking so small.
Lay aside your riches and treasures,
your notions of truth.
Move! From the small mind of EOS,
through the Eye of the Needle
into Beginner’s Mind.
Open your hands and heart;
receive the Mind of Christ
no either/or, us/them, mine/yours,
but instead only the Whole.
Look for the new perspective.


Jesus began to proclaim, “Repent for the Kingdom of heaven has come near.” Matthew 4:17

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 3:5

It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of the needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God. Matthew 1”9:24

The “needle”: Bourgeault’s “transformed consciousness”, Zen Roshi’s “beginner’s mind”, Merton’s “point of nothingness”, Jesus’ “poor in spirit”.

The “camel”: our “egoic operating system” [EOS], the small mind, the dualistic thought process, the either/or “binary mind that always perceives from a sense of scarcity and keeps track of the score through comparison and contrast”.

“Repent”: move “beyond the mind…into the larger mind…escape from the orbit of the [EOS]…and move instead into that nondual knowingness of the heart which can see and live from the perspective of wholeness.”

“At the center point of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and illusion, a point of pure truth, a point of spark which belongs entirely to God.” Thomas
Merton

Sometimes it seems Someone Else is doing SoulCollage® for me.

At my class Saturday, I was drawn to this camel—couldn’t put it down. What the heck is this about? Didn’t have a clue, except: “I really like this camel and I know that it has something to say.” So, I cut him out and brought him home.

This morning I picked up Cynthia’s book, and began reading Chapter 4 on repentance, The Path of Metanoia. The camel’s picture popped into my mind! It was so much fun! I could hear Jesus laughing all the way to my studio as I raced to find my camel, and I could hear him, too: “Eye of the needle, Sheila”. Sometimes things just click, and you know you know. You don’t know how you know, but you know you know. And it’s just delicious.

I think I just might learn to love that nasty old word “repentance” again. Surprise!

All quotes except those noted are from Cynthia Bourgeault’s book, The Wisdom Jesus”.

Synchronicity At Work...

I'm considering submitting some poetry for publication, so I revisited this poem, written last September. Seems this was a synchronistic moment:

Following the Star

Do you see it?

There,

Right there,

High in the sky…
there it is!

The Star!

I’ve never seen anything quite like it.
So bright,
so beautiful,
so compelling…

I find myself longing to follow that Star.

What?
You say I’m crazy?

Maybe…may be
But,
but what if,
what if following that Star just might lead me home?

What if following that star
just might lead me to the place of peace I long for?

My heart and mind are filled with desperate “what ifs”
that make staying here, in this place,
next to impossible.

So, here I am
like a crazy fool
packing my bags
loading this camel
and heading out over this desert,
into this broad expanse of wasteland.

I have to go
I’m compelled to follow

The Star calls me home.

September 18, 2010

I even posted it here on my blog back in September, along with a picture of the same SoulCollage® card that I did also in September. In retrospect, that star seems to have been pointing toward Pine, Arizona and my time spent at Spirit Falls on Sabbatical. I simply love how Life unfolds, always toward the next thing. Generosity at its finest. This synchronistic moment this morning gives me reason to once again give thanks to the Divine Unfolding.

SILENCE AND SOLITUDE

Ahhhh, what a beautiful morning. Cool, crisp, windows open, birds singing, my "bliss station", and beautiful, golden silence.

You know, hospitals just aren't silent. And there's no such thing as solitude. Over the years, I've learned the value of silence and solitude, and I "require" that space in order to function as a human. That still, somewhere in the shadow of my psyche, sounds selfish, but it's not. It's fact. And I am reminded often just how much I require it in order to function well.

My dear precious mother has been recuping from knee replacement in our local hospital. She's had a couple of setbacks, so I was been there with her for 6 days. She's precious and I love her, but there just wasn't any silence or solitude. Her doctor sent her to the rehab floor yesterday afternoon, and I was told, "Go home." This morning, I was was in my "bliss station", listening to golden sounds of silence, and feeling the sweet honey of stillness wash over my soul.

Then I opened my Bible to begin my "Engaging Scripture" study, and there, on a little piece of paper, tucked into oblivion was this little dittie that Andy shared with us one evening as preparation for centering prayer. It was just the "permission" I needed to relax into my silent moment and breathe.

SOLITUDE
(from Breathing Under Water: Spirituality and the 12 Steps

The most simple spiritual discipline is some degree of solitude and silence. But it's the hardest, because none of us want to be with someone we don't love. To be with our own thoughts and feelings, to stop the addictive prayer wheels and just feel what we're really feeling, think what we're really thinking, is probably the most courageous act most of us will ever do.

There's probably no way out of our addictive society--and our addictive, dysfunctional families--apart from some significant and chosen degree of silence and solitude.

I go to agrarian societies, places in Africa or the Philippines, and there I see non-addicted people. I see people who lead quiet, simple lives, under stimulated, with a few basic truths that they hold onto all their life. Think of how many things stimulate us daily: radio, television, billboards, conversations. We've go to slow down the chatter, the stimulation; we've got to feel many feelings which have been pent up and denied for decades. We've become overloaded, which is why we're afraid to do it.

We won't have the courage to go into that terrifying place of the soul without a great love, without the light and love of the Lord. Such silence is the most spacious and empowering technique in the world, yet it's not a technique at all. It's precisely the refusal of all technique.

I encourage you, find yourself a "bliss station" (mine's a certain chair in my living room), and just be still--just for 10 minutes, be still and simply breathe. Make some room in your life for purposed silence and solitude. Listen to the quiet and the sound of your own breath. Make it a daily practice. Get to know yourself, and the Holy.

Namaste.

FOLLOW YOUR BLISS

Following the Star
September 18, 2010


Do you see it?

There!

Right there!

High in the sky…
there it is!

the Star!

My –

I’ve never seen anything quite like it.
It’s so bright,
so beautiful,
so compelling…

I find myself filled with longing to follow that Star?

What? You say I’m crazy?

May be…maybe –
But,
But what if,
But what if following that Star just might lead me home?
What if following that star just might lead me
to the place of peace I so long for?

My heart, and my mind, are filled with the desperate “what ifs” that make staying here,
In this place,

Next to impossible.

So, here I am,
Like a crazy fool,
Packing my bags
And loading this camel
And heading out, over this desert,
Into this broad expanse of wasteland –

I have to go
I’m compelled to follow

The Star is calling me home.
(TAEHS, Matthew 2.1-12)

SABBATICAL, SEVEN YEARS, THE GREAT MOTHER (MY OWN), AND ME

I sat with Jim last night and discussed me taking a “sabbatical” the last two weeks of the year. He “high-5’d” it. Isn’t that the coolest?

Sabbatical – bringing a period of rest to the end of a cycle.

Seven, one of THE prime numbers in every tradition. In my own tradition, the Hebrews considered the number 7 to be the most sacred, the sum total of the most perfect world number (4) and the most perfect spiritual number (3). The number 7 marked “completion”.

My mother moved down here 7 years ago in May. Little did we know how HUGE her move down here was, especially for the 2 of us. Moving Mother here, into my space, has been a welcoming of the Feminine.

Father God (my Daddy) was “out there”, different from me, beyond me, always a “mystery” that in my femaleness I would never be able to measure up to. There is no doubt in my mind that my Daddy loved me, absolutely, but that love was from a distance, the way Father God did—from out there, above and beyond me, a Mystery I would never be able to penetrate, a God I could never pretend to be like. Father of my Spirit.

Mother, on the other hand…my Mother.

Mother God, (my Mother) is God IN me, God in my shape, in my form, speaking with my voice, God revealing my Self to me, God loving me from INSIDE of me. She is Mother of my Soul.

When we asked Mother to come live here with us, little did I comprehend that I would be inviting the Feminine, yes, the Goddess, the Mother of my soul into my psyche. As a new Catholic, I had just met Mary, and I knew I loved her—immensely. And Christmas, 2003, was huge for me. I received what I believe to have been a supernatural gift, the gift of mandalas, for nearly 3 months, pictures and words from deep inside of me, marking me and preparing me for what I know now to be a huge paradigm shift, and I knew even then that those mandalas were a gift to me, not from the Father, but from the Mother.

All that happened 7 years ago, and the changes in our lives have been cataclysmic—perhaps not so much from the outside, although even those are big, but on the inside, as well.

When Mother moved down here, I wanted to be open and honest with this sheltered woman. So I told her the biggest and baddest things about me and my family that I could come up with. “Mother, Jim and I occasionally drink, and I find myself saying bad words pretty often, and Robin’s belly button is pierced.” That was it. I had now come clean.

Good heavens—it’s almost comical now.

In the past seven years, Mother and I have been introduced to all kinds of new things, new words, new thoughts; i.e., alternative life styles, bi-sexuality, polyamory, Burning Man, the Wisdom of Hoboses…my family itself, so beautifully intact in 2003, has crumbled. Two of my sons have gone through psyche shattering divorces. Another son has decided that we’re too much to deal with, so he stays away. I’ve lost two of the very best friends I ever had in my two daughters-in-law. I’ve watched my grandchildren lose their innocence. I’ve seen alcoholism rare its ugly head in the lives of friends and family. Divorce has once again not only ripped my family apart, but it's ripped apart the families of very dear friends. And even now, I'm reminded again how short life can be, and how everything can change in a moment.

That’s outside. Inside? I lost God for two years. I couldn’t figure out what to do with Jesus. I lost my faith. My body froze in fybromalgic pain in November, 2004, and it’s still frozen. I live with it all the time. And, god forbid, I’m on anti-depression medication, they tell me for the pain, but I also know it’s also for the depression.

What has my mother done during all this? She’s done what God does—she’s loved. She’s watched. She’s been there. She’s seen it all and heard it all, and she loves us still. She watched especially close as my image of God was shattered. Father, Son, and Bridegroom no longer work as well as Mother, Daughter, or better yet, Ground of All, Source of Everything, River Beneath the River, etc. God is not so much “out there” speaking from outside, as IN me, speaking to me in my own voice. And from my own creative experiences (also in the last 7 years), God didn’t so much just speak creation into being as birth Creation. Neither did God “finish” in 6 days; She’s still giving birth to an ever-expanding Universe all around us.

Mother (God? Or Millie?) has walked me through the Great Shift in my soul—from evangelical Christian to catholic (universal) Christian. She has watched as my religion, politics and heart has changed. She’s watched as what was very neatly boxed and defined broke into billions pieces—and like Leonard Cohen sings, “That’s how the light gets in.” How has Mother responded? With blessing. Yes, blessing. Mother Millie hasn’t exactly understood (nor have I) or embraced (nor have I) all the changes, but she’s blessed it all. Mother God on the other hand?

Well, that’s what the Feminine does. She takes your hand and circles you round and round, down and down, until you come into the Abyss of your own soul. And she sits with you in the depths of hell until you die—and She stays with you until time for your resurrection.

Then, She says, as a Good Mother does, “Rest Sheila. It’s time to rest your soul and your body. Take a Sabbatical.”

So I will—not so much a “silent retreat” as I first thought, even though The Great Silence sounds delicious and I expect to enter it often, but a Sabbatical, a time of rest after a cycle of energy being spent. I highly recommend it. And I’ll let you know how it goes. I suspect to come home after the first of the year refreshed, healed in mind and spirit (maybe even in body), and ready to tackle the next 7 years of growth.

Selah!

BTW, I'm still a Christian. I still love God the Father, I adore Jesus, both God and man, and I believe in resurrection. It's just all bigger and far more glorious that I first imagined.

SoulCollage® Slideshow

The Gentle Spirit of SoulCollage® and the Storm Survivor

I am so taken with the gentleness of SoulCollage®. One of the principles of SoulCollage® is “the answers are already inside you; you have everything you need”. And it’s true.

Over the last few years, I’ve gone through my own “dark night”, questioning everything I’ve ever been taught, listening to all the judgments I’ve ever made and questioning my conclusions, and finally deciding for myself what to keep and what to let go of. My questions have been: Who told me that? Do I really believe it? Is it really of value to me? Is it any longer useful in my life?

That’s a hard thing for a 55-60 year old woman to do. My faith, my beliefs, my values, my politics—everything seemed to be caught under the lens of a microscope. It was all turned upside down.

Hebrews 12 tells of just that kind of “shaking”: “Yet once more I will shake not only the earth but also the heaven. This phrase, ‘Yet once more,’ indicates the removal of what is shaken—that is, created things—that what cannot be shaken may remain.”

This piece of dirt called Sheila has been shaken, turned upside down and shaken until her teeth are about to fall out. I never knew that verse even meant my religious beliefs and the values I walked through life by.

I’ve been shaken, and so has my family. And it’s been brutal. I’ve watched the dreams I’ve had for my sons crumble—and I’ve had to grief what I had hoped for them.

But back to SoulCollage®--Thursday was my day to go tape a 30-minute segment for a local TV station. And I had already decided to let intuition run the show—after all, that’s one of the grandest gifts of this process. It believes in and trusts intuition.

So that morning while going through my things and getting my “stuff” together, I happened upon an image that really drew me—a silhouette of family: a mother holding the hands of two children, and a dad kind of off to the side. There were words written across his body, and since he seemed a little distant, I cut out the silhouette of the mother and children and decided not to use him.

I still wasn’t sure I would use this picture, but I thought of it all morning.

And it was the image I used in my demo. I worked with this image and a stormy background. I “knew” she was coming out of the storm.

“I am the one who has walked through the storm, bringing my family with me. I am the one who is now walking into blue skies. The storm has, for the most part, passed. I am walking into blue skies in peace. I have peace in my heart, and peace is my theme. I am a storm survivor.”

After the taping was over, I found out another piece of my family had broken. Somehow, I already knew it. I am sad, for them and for me, but it’s been part of our shaking. And we are all storm survivors. Blue skies are just ahead. We will walk into our tomorrow in peace.

Yesterday morning, I read some of Psalm 18, from Nan Merrill’s book. That Psalm has so been the theme of the last few years for all of us. Somehow, it was the “icing” on the cake and confirmed for me that we are almost through this “shaking”. Thanks be to God.

Psalm 18

I abandon myself to You, O Living Presence, my strength.
You are my rock, my stronghold…my tower of strength…
the source of truth and light.
I call upon You, Heart of my heart,
singing praises to your Name and fear no longer holds me.

The demons of darkness assailed me,
the blindness of ignorance led me astray;
The shadows of fear paralyzed me,
the anguish of loneliness confronted me.
In my distress I called out to You…
You heard my voice…You harkened to my cry.

Then did You, O Divine Presence, show unto me a vision:
the earth reeled and rocked;
the foundations of the mountains trembled
and quaked, as if to slough off the ravages of destruction…
On the wings of the wind, You did come,
with darkness a covering around You,
a canopy of thick clouds dark with water.
Out of the brightness before You
there broke through the clouds hailstones,
coals of fire left from the mountain tops.
As your voice uttered in the heavens,
thunder and lightning stormed the earth…

Yet there was no safe haven,
no hiding place from fear.
Then the channels of the sea were seen,
and the foundations of the world laid bare,
The earth gave a might shudder
then settled down to heal
in Silence.

O compassionate One, You reached
from on high, You took me,
You drew me out of many waters.
You delivered me from the fears
that bound me, and
from ignorance that blinded me;
for they threatened to overcome me,
to separate me from You.
They came upon me when I looked not to You;
yet You, O Merciful One, were ever present.
You brought me forth into the Light;
You released my fears,
You delighted in me.
O Holy One, You see the intentions of my heart;
As I surrender to your love,
I grow in peace and gratitude.
For to lose my life is to find Life;
O keep me steadfast in love
for You, Life of my life!
The spirit of your Word is ever
before me,
the Counselor ever present to guide me…
May I walk with You justly, with mercy
and in peace,
a mirror of you love in the world…

You are the Light of my life;
You shine through my darkness…
You ways lead to wholeness…
How tenderly You live in my heart!

The Wisdom and Care of SoulCollage®

SoulCollage® is such a simple tool...yet profound prayer. I've been "feeling" some things over the last couple of months, and those feelings have been pretty well validated over the last few days. And the "boogie bears" of my mind are lurking near. My tendency in this particular situation is to "fear". But when I drew this card as my "neter" of the day, something wonderful happened.

Synchronicity is one of Love's favorite ways to speak into my life, and it always amazes me when it happens.

Andy preached a simple sermon yesterday on the prayer that Jesus taught us. He brought that simple prayer into current day language, then challenged us to do the same. Well, I'm too grown up for that...

But this morning, when I drew this card, that's exactly what happened. I made this card after "bullying" someone about a year ago. It gave me hope that my "Father" still loved me. This morning? It's a whole different message.

As I was pondering my thoughts and feeling my fears, I heard this card speak a whole different message to me:

"Sheila, I am the one who invites you to just walk away. Turn your back on the bullies in your mind that have you hiding in this dark place like a little lost puppy. Leave the pretend demons and dragons of your fears behind, put your hand in mine and just walk away. Leave them be, and come walk with me."

I was reminded of something particular regarding forgiveness that Andy talked about yesterday, so I talked about it with Love, then in my heart, I put my small fearful hand in Love's hand, and walked away from the demons in my mind. I am unable to do anything about the feelings or the fears, or whatever the situation is that stir those feelings and fears, but I can mentally put my hand in Someone's hand and walk away. At least for today.

I've been reading daily from Nan Merrill's Psalms for Praying, an Invitation to Wholeness for a while now. And today after listening to the Wisdom of this card speak to me, I ended my prayer time with Psalm 16...

Remain before me

O Living Presence,

for in You am I safe.

You are my Beloved; in You

I can do all things...

Love is my chosen food, my cup,

holding me in its power.

Where I have come from,

Where'ser I shall go,

Love is my birthright,

my true estate.

I bless the Counselor who guides

my way;

in the night also does my heart

instruct me.

I walk beside the Spirit of Truth;

I celebrate the Light.

Thus my hear is glad,

and my soul

rejoices;

I shall nto be afraid,

nor fall into the pit of despair;

In Love's presence there is fullness

of Joy.

You are my Beloved; in You

will I live.

Come SoulCollage® With Me - Dancing With The Opposites

I made this card last Thursday, when I gave my first SoulCollage® class. And I love it! Goes to show, sometimes "simple" is best!

I was raised in a black and white world of nice, tidy, little boxes. And everything fit into those nice little boxes: good/bad, black/white, up/down, big/little, right/wrong, us/them, etc. But something happened in 2004 when I drew a black and white mandala of little boxes. Since then, I've begun to dance the dance of the opposites. And I've discovered that a non-black/white world doesn't just lead to wish-washy shades of gray. It makes for COLOR! DIVERSITY! DIFFERENT POINTS OF VIEW! There's a million choices between black and white. There's a billion points of view between right and wrong. And it's a wonderful, wonderful world of color.

I can be a child of both day and night. I can dance between right and wrong and not really KNOW it all. I can be o so much more flexible, and yes, tolerant of others.

When this card spoke to me it said:

"I am the one who dances with the opposites! Come and dance with me. Sprinkle a little color wherevery you go. You no longer have to live on the edge and be fearful of falling off that little tight rope! Everything in between is an adventure in living! Come experience LIFE in technicolor!"

Try it. You'll like it. :)

6:45 a.m., Surfside Beach...

So, what am I doing here, by myself? Something’s amiss—out of kilter, and needs restoring.

What draws me to this Ocean?

Perhaps it’s the rhythm of the waves? It’s as if my own internal rhythms need to be recalibrated. My internal clock, the consistent tick, tick, tick, tick—it seems to have gotten out of whack. It’s lost its balanced rhythm.

I love the sound of the Ocean, the rhythmic ticking of a clock, and this week, the Psalms…my soul waits in silence.

“You have established yourself in secret places,
seeking out receptive hearts,
ready to enter and make your
dwelling place within.”

The secret places…
the rhythm of the waves,
the quiet ticking of a clock,
the beating of a heart,
the in and out of the breath,
the push and pull of the tide,
the rising and setting of the sun,
the waxing and waning of the moon…

the Final Cause.

Perhaps that’s what I need from this moment, from this place, from the Psalms—the gentle ever-present reminder of the Final Cause.

The gulls and the pelicans seem to know it,
time knows it,
the sun, moon, and stars know it,
the only ones who seem to wonder, doubt, and ask the questions
are us humans.

So, who/what is most evolved?

Then I notice.

Even the Ocean spends its energy beating against its boundaries, testing its limits. Even the Ocean seems to have this incessant longing for more.

Perhaps that’s my purpose.
Perhaps that’s why I’m here.
Perhaps that’s what this journey of the soul, my Ocean, is all about—

Expand
Open
Wings beating the wind
Waves lapping at the boundaries and eating up the edges

Longing for the More.
Always on the lookout for the Final Cause.

Here is my heart Beloved.
Enter and make your dwelling place within.

Emptiness--Again...

You know, I know a little about marching around Jericho, blowing my own trumpet, 7 times before anything happens...it's the old "been here, done that" thing. How many times does it take?

A number of years ago, the Holy spent a lot of time revealing to me the power and hope of emptiness, but like most of us, it's not a lesson easily learned. And it hurts. Ask Jesus. Paul reminds us in Philippians that Jesus chose to be fully human. He chose to be made empty. I think that's our call, too; to choose to be made empty.

I love empty pots. The significance is huge to me--I always think of Jesus and the marriage at Cana--all those pots just sitting around, empty, waiting to be filled. A full pot can't receive anything, can it.

So, that's where I am again this morning. Seems the Spirit has been speaking to me again on the subject of "subtraction", the power of being made empty, death being required before resurrection, dying before being born again. It's not something I long to hear being spoken to me, but it's something my physical body is screaming to me at the moment. And, because the pain body is screaming, I have to pay attention.

It's those damned expectations again. St. Theresa tells us it's those damned expectations that send us right back to the basement of the castle where all the reptiles live. It's those damned expectations that bind us and freeze us in the past or predicting something about the future--anything at all, good or bad. It's those damned expectations that keep us from living in Today, the only place God and I can relate. Seems it's time for this pot to be emptied again. And I didn't even realize the pot was full.

In my reading this week, I was introduced to a couple of Lao Tzu's verses from the Tao te Ching. I've probably read them before, but they've held my thoughts now for about 4 days. I just keep going back and re-reading them, thinking about the truths they teach, and pondering how they are connected to true spiritual authority. So, for your reading pleasure, and because it's hard to go it alone:

Verse 11 The Importance of What is Not

We join thirty spokes

to the hub of a wheel,

yet it's the center hole

that drives the chariot.

We shape clay

to birth a vessel,

yet it's the hollow within

that makes it useful.

We chisel doors and windows

to construct a room,

yet it's the inner space

that makes it livable.

Thus do we

create what is

to use what is not.

Verse 22 Celebrate Paradox!

No-thing remains itself.

Each prepares the path to its opposite.

To be ready for wholeness, first be fragmented.

To be ready for rightness, first be wronged.

To be ready for fullness, first be empty.

To be ready for renewal, first be worn out.

To be ready for success, first fail.

To be ready for doubt, first be certain.

Because the wise observe the world

through the Great Integrity,

they know they are not knowledgeable.

Because they do not perceive

only through their perceptions,

they do not judge this right and that wrong.

Because they do not delight in boasting,

they are appreciated.

Because they do not announce their superiority,

they are acclaimed.

Because they never compete,

no one can compete with them.

Verily, fragmentation prepares the path to wholeness,

the mother of all origins and realizations.

Energy Made Visible #2, The Golden Purifier

I've been working with images as Pat Allen suggests in her book, Art As A Spiritual Path. I've never wanted to just paint pretty pictures with my art--I truly want it to be from deep inside me, but I've had to work at it. My imagination wasn't particularly blessed earlier in my life (the playground of the devil, you know), so my imagination, as well as my mind and my heart and the rest of me has had to repent (wake up!). Mandalas and soul collage have been my tools of choice for the last 7 years or so, but for now Pat's methods intrigue me. Anyway, long story even longer...

During Lent, I had "close encounters of another kind" with two different birds, a couple of weeks apart. The first was with hawks--almost landing on my car, and actually making eye contact with me, swooping down and showing me their feathers...it was kind of quirky, but I've taken a strong liking to quirky things on, especially on my spiritual journey. I've learned not to shrug off those quirky things, but to ask questions, to pause, to listen. So, I talked to a friend of mine who's just about as quirky, and she said, "Pay attention. The hawk is a message bird--he's got something to tell you, so listen." So I did--hawks everywhere around me for about 10 days, then BUZZARDS!

My first encounter with the buzzards was on Psalm Sunday no less--at church. We were outside, when I looked up and saw these beautiful birds flying around and I exclaimed, "Just look at the hawks; aren't they wonderful!" A friend said, "That's BUZZARDS!"

Now you have to know I've never been a buzzard lover. Back in my "prophetic" days, the buzzard was unclean, a scavenger, and not a good sign. But one of my primary archetypal symbols is the alchemist. I love to rediscover and reclaim "profane"...all things were created good. So, again, I began to watch and listen. And I talked to my friend, who really didn't have much to say except what I already knew...they embraced death and weren't afraid of it. And it was possible something was dying in my life--or needed to. I knew already what that was, so I embraced that, then went home and googled the Vulture and found that the turkey vulture's name means GOLDEN PURIFIER.

Now, if that doesn't get my attention, nothing will.

So, this morning I do a scribble drawing and this big beautiful vulture emerges, in the middle of all my chaos and gives me beauty. As I drew and colored and listened, I knew that embracing death always brings new life. I knew this image was my GOLDEN PURIFIER. Later I sat and dialogued with it...I'm not crazy, Pat Allen is! :) Actually, I've done that with some of my other images, so I know it works. The image has something to say. As I listened, I was impressed that this bird reminds me so much of Christ...despised, rejected, embracing death as a pathway to new life and new creation. From the seeds of death a new way comes.

So I am blessed to have the Golden Purifier, my Christ bird, in my life. I'll never look at a vulture the same. They do no harm. They never kill, but wait patiently for death to come, then they embrace it fully, cleaning up all the remains, allowing life to return. Just like the Cross has done for me.

CHRIST'S FEET

Andy preached a sermon during Lent about Mary anointing Jesus' feet. That's always been one of my favorite Bible stories, but for some reason that morning, the story stayed with me and I knew I wanted to paint the story.

A couple of weeks later, Andy preached again, this time about Jesus washing the disciples' feet. He reminded us that those two incidents were only days apart, and that there's a huge possiblity that Mary inspired Jesus--that his washing their feet was a direct result of her washing his feet. I had never thought of that, but I knew there was a painting in there somewhere.

I felt a painting forming in my gut. I had been so moved by both sermons, and I felt the painting forming on my insides, so I simply asked, stated my intention, then waited.

Also during Lent, we had a priest from the Episcopal Diocese of Texas in Houston come and talk to us about Social Justice and EDOT's ministry to the homeless.

And the photo--this photo of aching, injured feet that inspired this painting--I must confess, it came from a National Geographic Magazine. I pulled it a couple of years ago, and kept it. It's haunted me and it's been "in my face" since our Social Justice evening.

I started the painting Easter Sunday afternoon, and today I've been thinking of it this poem that St. Theresa of Avila wrote; I first heard it at the Cenacle in 2003:

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.

I've loved that poem since the first day I heard it, but over the last few days, I've seen these feet as Christ's feet...are they the feet of the homeless? or the feet of someone in a third-world country? an illegal immigrant who's found his way across our borders? I don't know who's feet they are, but I believe they are Christ's Feet, and he waits to see if we'll wash them, if we'll anoint them.

It scares me, this tug I feel on my heart. I kind of like watching someone else from the sidelines care for the poor. But something's moving; albeit slowly.

When I joined the Catholic Church, I had just lost my job, and the position of the Director of St. Thomas Center in Angleton was open. It is a ministry to the poor. "Shoot," I thought..."I can do that!" But first I had to take a Parish Social Ministries class in order to qualify. So I did--3 months of classes a couple of days a week, driving to Houston. For the most part, it undid me. I discovered all my prejudices toward the poor--all my thoughts and concepts that had been formed over my lifetime. I never even knew I had them. But I learned how mis-informed I was and how UNready I was to work with the poor. At the end of the class, the teacher asked how we planned to use what we had learned. I confessed that first I had to digest it. It was part of the "Great Reveal" for me. I knew nothing.

The last few years have simply been a growing awareness of God's love for the poor, and God's heart for justice, a simple growing awareness of how unfair life is. I am lucky to have been born this side of the border. I'm lucky to have been born white. I'm lucky to have been born middle class. I'm lucky to be married to an engineer who's had a job for at the same place for these 30 years. Flat lucky. I deserve nothing more than they have, and they don't deserve what they have.

So, I still don't know anything, but awareness is growing. And my heart of stone is being softened and "Love one another as Christ has loved you" is being written on it. Don't have a clue what the next move is. For the last couple of days, it's simply been to paint and think and ponder and listen to wonderful music and to say once again, "Here I am Lord..."

The Eye of God

I created this mandala Thursday morning, then received a wonderful "new" book in the mail Thursday afternoon...SYNCHRONICITY!

I did a mandal "demo" for the Brazosport Art League a couple of weeks back. After the demo, a fellow artist recommended that I buy a copy of A Beginners Guide to Constructing the Universe, which, of course, I promptly ordered.

I got the book Thursday afternoon, and began reading Thursday evening, AFTER I created "The Eye of God" Thursday morning. And it's only in reviewing my notes this morning for my mandala workshop, that I realize the synchronicity..."God-talk".

I have hated using a compass since my geometry days in high school, but I've fallen "in love" with the compass after only a few pages of this book. The compass was called "the eye of God" by the ancients, and it was symbolic of the creation of the universe (the circle). The two legs of the compass symbolized the opening of God's eye to allow the light to flow out into the darkness. The still "point" of the compass symbolized the "still point/center" of the universe, or the Self. The compass itself standing straight up on it's legs, represented the axis of the world, the high mountain of God, the Holy Center...

When I looked at this drawing this morning, I saw all that there. What I love about "truth" is that it is experienced in the cells of our bodies. You can teach me rote facts, but truth must be revealed. All that to say: I can't wait for our day at the Center (I think that, too, must be prophetic!).

I love circles! :)

Letting Go of Those Damned Expectations

To “let go” does not mean to stop caring; it means I can’t do it for someone else.
To “let go” is not to cut myself off; it’s the realization I can’t control another.
To “let go” is not to enable; it is to allow learning from natural consequences.
To “let go” is to admit powerlessness, which means the outcome is not in my hands.
To “let go” is not to change or blame another; it’s to make the most of myself.
To “let go” is not to care for, but to care about.
To “let go” is not to fix, but to be supportive.
To “let go” is not to judge, but to allow another to be a human being.
To “let go” is not to be in the middle arranging all the outcomes, but to allow others to affect their own destinies.
To “let go” is not to be protective; it’s to permit another to face reality.
To “let go” is not to deny, but accept.
To “let go” is not to nag, scold or argue, but instead to search out my own shortcomings and to correct them.
To “let go” is not to adjust everything to my desires, but to take each day as it comes, and cherish myself in it.
To “let go” is not to regret the past, but grow and to live for the future.
To “let go” is to fear less and to love more.
(Part of the closing ritual of the Hospice Training for Volunteers.)

I painted this mandala as a prayer for a couple of dear friends who are being asked to “let go” of unmet expectations and move into a new phase of their lives this year. Damn, that’s hard work.

I’ve been reading a lot (go figure!) on archetypes, and I’ve revisited Carolyn Myss and her book Entering the Castle. Myss loves the work of St. Theresa, so she takes St. Theresa’s Interior Castles and helps plumb the depths of it. St. Theresa wrote about the “reptiles” that roam around the lower rooms of our interior castle, biting, scaring, scarring, wounding us all the time. Myss writes, “Expectations are the reptiles of the worst kind, whether they are expectations of your sojourn into your Castle or any expectations you have of life….[including]you must first confront this sense of entitlement about God, so that you can actually encounter God.” (paren is mine)

It is so hard, so demanding, to have to let go of our expectations, our dreams and hopes, not only for our own future, but for the future of our children as well. We have them. I’m not sure we can NOT not have them.

But it seems that part of our mid-life growth process is having dreams and expectations turn to dust or ashes. We reach a certain time in our life, take a hard look, and realize, “Who’s life am I living anyway? This isn’t what I planned. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. I’ve done it all the best I knew how. I played by the rules, and I tried really hard. This shouldn’t have happened. What have I done wrong? Why is this happening to me? (or my children, or my family, or my friends…the list goes on).

Damned unmet expectations, and we find our house really IS built on sand. Our houses get blown away; our wineskin breaks, our dreams turn to dust. We seem to be at the end of everything.

And then, somehow, we let go. And it’s in the letting go in spite of all our fears and all the mind games—it’s in the letting go that new life appears.

I believe in resurrection. I’ve seen it over and over again. I’ve experienced it over and over again in my own life. I see it in the changing of the seasons and the bursting forth of the lilies in Spring.

So, here’s to my friends who find themselves at the end—again. I am praying for you as you’ve prayed for me. New life WILL come from the ashes.