fbpx

About South Stars

Feb 10, 2023 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

I was talking with a client a few weeks back who can honestly and confidently state that she is strong and powerful and capable and competent. She’s 100% right about this!

Still, she is dealing with some things that have her feeling weak and wobbly and incapable and incompetent. She knows better AND she feels what she feels. It’s a conundrum, a paradox, a truth, a lie. And much like me, this has her spiraling a bit, feeling bad, berating herself, acknowledging her own ridiculous shame spiral.

I could attempt to talk her out of what she’s feeling. I could tell her what we’ve all heard a gazillion times: talk to yourself like you would someone you love. I could encourage her to see that she’s being overly critical, that self-compassion is deserved. (And of course, I could do all of this with and for myself, as well.)

Here’s the thing:

Our doubts and insecurities, our wounds and seen-patterns, even the negative thoughts that are completely contradictory to who we KNOW ourselves to be, are very, VERY good news! They point us to what matters, to what we care about most, to what we know-that-we-know-that-we-know.

IT’S OUR VERY FRUSTRATION THAT SERVES AS A COMPASS, A FORM OF DISCERNMENT, A MARKER OF TRUTH.

When my client tells me she feels weak and wobbly and incapable and incompetent, these very pains and irritants serve as irrefutable evidence of what matters to her, what she cares about most, and what she most definitely knows is true about her.

It’s uncomfortable to feel and name the contradiction, but it serves as a generous reminder of what is more true.

  • If we don’t allow for the fact that we feel heartbroken and hopeless, we won’t see that compassion and hope are, in fact, qualities and characteristics that we hold dear and do, in fact, have…in spades.
  • If we don’t allow for the fact that we feel lonely, we won’t recognize just how much we value relationship…and that we are more-than worthy of such, no compromising or compliance allowed.
  • If we don’t allow for the fact that we care about how we are perceived by our co-workers, our boss, our kids, our significant other, then we won’t see (sometimes with excruciating clarity) that we must speak our mind, stand up for ourselves, and unswervingly value all that we offer and bring.

Our most uncomfortable feelings are often profound gift and grace.

*****

I once heard someone explain the idea of a “south star.”

We know what a north star is: a concept, belief, or inherent truth by which we set our course, that keeps us focused, that points us in the right direction. A south star is just as powerful. It shows us where NOT to go and what is NOT true.

  1. What are your south stars?
  2. Think about some recent situation in which your internal response was almost immediate self-contempt or irritation.
  3. Write out what you felt, the self-talk that poured forth.
  4. Now, for each of those things you just wrote down, name their exact opposite. An example: I am so lazy. It’s opposite: Intentional. Contributing. Present.
  5. So, “lazy” is the south star that points you toward and reminds you that, in fact, what matters to you is being intentional, making a contribution, being fully present. And I’d be willing to bet that you already ARE all these things!

Worth stating again:

Our doubts and insecurities, our wounds and seen-patterns, even the negative thoughts that are completely contradictory to who we KNOW ourselves to be, are actually very, VERY good news!

They point us to what matters, to what we care about most, to what we know-that-we-know-that-we-know.

*****

As my client talked to me about feeling the opposite of who she knows herself to be, she was able to use those emotions to name the exact conditions that often lead her down that path. She could see how those circumstances a) almost always bring about the same result, and b) are actually possible to avoid and eliminate. Honestly naming what she felt (her south star), even though hard, guided her back to remembering who she truly is.

I hope the same for you!

As caveat, let me say that not every painful or frustrating emotion can be *simply* converted into a south star that leaves us feeling better about ourselves. I do not mean to paint some kind of patina over the hard and excruciating things that happen in our lives. And believe me, though I am a profoundly hopeful person, I am not one who looks for the bright side or seeks out silver linings.

I am, however, a woman who believes deeply in the wisdom inherent in every emotion we have — admitted, expressed, or held tenderly within. Sometimes they are south stars. And sometimes they are veritable craters into which we fall. Either way (and everything in between), I am committed to allowing them in myself and others, to giving them ample and generous spaciousness and grace, to trusting that they will not overwhelm, but will, eventually and at last, walk us home to ourselves.

May it be so.

*****

If my writing resonates, I’d be honored if you’d subscribe to A Sunday Letter. It’s from my heart to yours, via email, once a week. Learn more.

Permission Granted: the God YOU choose

Aug 1, 2015 | My sort-of Sermons, Spirituality

It used to be, when lost in places of confusion, hurt, or pain, I would turn to the God of whom I’d been told and taught – completely certain that if I just looked hard enough, had faith enough, believed enough, everything would make sense. There had to be an answer, a template, a rubric, a principle to apply.

It never occurred to me that there were no answers. It never occurred to me that perhaps my plight was not because I was doing something wrong (not being good enough, devoted enough, disciplined enough, obedient enough). It never occurred to me that sometimes, oftentimes, things have no rhyme or reason to them at all.

There came a time, not all at once, but over many years, in which I stopped looking to God (at least the one of whom I’d been told and taught). I began to allow questions instead of seeking pat answers. Graciously, maybe even miraculously, I began to look within.

What do I know? What do I feel. What do I desire? What do I believe? What if the God of whom I’d been told and taught isn’t the only one, the only way? What if there is something more? What if I am something more? (Wouldn’t that be something?!?)

As my questions rose, so did my voice. I rejected (at least for a time) an entire interpretive, exegetical history. I articulated my rage at the patriarchy. I swirled and screamed and shouted to whoever would listen and even those who would not. I asked more questions: What of the women? Where is her voice, her perspective, her lens? And if Hers is silenced, missing, ignored, what about mine? These questions did have answers. And I knew them – inherently and intuitively within.

These days, I find and treasure places of rest, overlap, and even healing in which the God(s) of my past and present merge, where the tension is soothed, where I can breathe, where I can imagine, where I can be.

I continue to listen and question and wonder – certain of and comforted by this:

There is no static God, no singular understanding, no immutable truth. This is grace and gift.

Every (attempt at) comprehension throughout the centuries has arisen from someone’s questions, musings, and imagination – their particular culture, philosophy, and way of being – which is ever-changing, ever-evolving. I’m a “someone.” So are you.

If there is an immutable truth, it is this: we have complete and unfettered permission to understand and experience God/the Sacred in ways that speak to, inform, and transform us – uniquely, individually, perfectly.

  • Who might the God/Sacred be that invites us to hear and trust our own brilliance, our own power, our own heart with complete confidence?
  • Who might the God/Sacred be that reminds us of our strength and worth?
  • Who might the God/Sacred be that already dwells within us – waiting, watching, loving, and longing for us to step up, speak out, say yes, say no, say “now”?
  • Who might we be if this was the God/Sacred in whom we believed, trusted, dwelled?

With so much hope that it may be so for you and me both . . .

TRUTH is a warrior

Jan 1, 2014 | Hope & Encouragement, Sovereignty, Spirituality, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

I’ve spent the last few days at a beautiful, private, and extremely quiet place. I’ve spent a lot of time looking out at the water, the mountains, and more breeds of birds than I can count. I’ve rested. I’ve read. And I’ve even written a little. I’ve spent intentional, sacred time looking back over 2013.

Consistent themes have emerged, right alongside some pretty twisty threads. I’ve focused on the themes: patterns that have powerfully, almost miraculously appeared and made themselves at home in my world and my heart. And I’ve pulled on the threads – in some cases, pretty hard; my resistance high to the unraveling necessary to weave something stronger, more beautiful, and better able to support all that lies ahead and all that I deserve and desire.

The word that has come to me, again and again, on both ends of this spectrum – themes and threads, past and future – has been TRUTH.

I have seen Her presence made manifest in powerful ways when I have been willing to speak. I have heard Her voice within me when I have been most afraid, most heartbroken, most insecure, and most alone. I have felt Her in the words and actions of my friends – women who have called me to the TRUTH they see and experience in me when I am loathe to forget.

I have had also to acknowledge that there have been many times in which She wanted to be more present. When She waited quietly (though impatiently) in the wings. When She was ignored. When I was too afraid, too heartbroken, too insecure, and feeling myself to be too alone to bear one more reminder of Her vast and magnificent presence.

Here’s what I know – and what you know, too: TRUTH will not be denied.

She comes as ruthless cure and kindest companion, as double-edged sword and heroine’s scepter, as quietest whisper and on-a-soap-box shout. And She longs to be given even more reign, more space, more permission, more room to be expressed.

Because here’s the thing: TRUTH knows that when She’s seen, spoken, and experienced everything changes.

You’ve heard it before – my very favorite-of-all-time quote:

What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open. ~ Muriel Rukeyser

Which is exactly why we don’t want to tell it (and why, TRUTH-be-told, we do). It’s exactly why we hear, with great clarity and acumen, that know-that-I-know-that-I know voice within, but hesitate to let it out. It’s exactly why, when it’s spoken to us or about us we either wince or weep, hide from or herald its coming.

Truth is a demure lady, much too ladylike to knock you on your head and drag you to her cave. She is there, but people must want her, and seek her out. ~ William F. Buckley, Jr.

TRUTH is what I want, what I seek, what I offer.

I’m inviting you to the TRUTH-telling you most need, most want, and most deeply long for; what you know and need to talk to someone else about. Yes, you and me, one-on-one, having TRUTH-filled conversations about stuff that matters.

Themes and threads. Past and present. Certainly, the future. The fears, the heartbreaks, the insecurities, and the loneliness. Most definitely the know-that-you-know-that-you-know voice within. And in all of these, the Sacred – present and accounted for when we have eyes to see, ears to hear, and a heart that desires. A safe place to tell your TRUTH and to see it transformed and transmitted into every aspect of your life. Exactly what you’ve been looking for. Take the next step.

******

As I’ve worked on this post, I’ve continued to look out at the water, the mountains, and the endlessly-passing-by birds (two hummingbirds are to my right, a small finch to my left, and I saw a blue heron an hour-or-so ago). I’ve felt my fear ebb and flow. The TRUTH? It’s daunting to state intentions, plans, goals, even dreams.

What if I can’t keep up? What if my TRUTH doesn’t resonate with yours? What if it results in more unsubscribes than subscribes?

But I’m hearing deeper, more heart-rending questions than these. What if writing my TRUTH leaves me feeling like a voice crying in the wilderness? What if telling my TRUTH results in more winnowing than gathering, more loss than gain; hard choices, tough calls, firm(er) boundaries, profound risks? What if living my TRUTH means that goodbyes are on the way – to patterns, to particular behaviors, even to people?

Other possibilities beckon and abound, as well. What if writing my TRUTH is what will create exactly the platform, the context, and even the content I most love, most long for, most live to create and share? What if telling my TRUTH invites opportunity, people, and places into my world that defy my wildest imagination? And what if living my TRUTH actually serves to draw me even closer to the Divine, to the Sacred, to a way of being that is more powerful, more breathtaking, and more wildly passionate than I’ve even and ever dared dream?

TRUTH makes no promise to be a gentle or barely-felt presence. She is a warrior, a fighter, a lover, and the fiercest of friends.

And this, it occurs to me, is who I want to be, as well.

May it be so.

Giving Up On God

Mar 22, 2013 | Spirituality

Giving up on God: I’m considering it.

I don’t ponder this from an atheistic precipice or in a state of existential angst; rather, it’s an all-out gamble on (and hunger for) a God who supersedes my doubt, who surprises, who stays, who’s relevant and BIG and full-of-felt-love.

The argument could legitimately be made that the God I’ve known since childhood is this God. I would not disagree—completely. But it’s much more complex. That God has often been so bound in strictures of thought and doctrine and prescribed behavior that I’ve felt suffocated at times – unable to breathe deep, to imagine wildly, to believe in ways that expand my heart, my soul, my world.

If God is, as I have been taught, full of unconditional and endless love, then my experience of such should be defined by freedom, grace, and ease, yes? Instead, many of my learned patterns take me to compliance, obedience, aspiring-toward-perfection, penance, offerings, and yes, that prescribed behavior; the manifestation and “proof” that I am good enough, worthy enough . . . enough, period.

I do not believe these things to actually be of God, still, they are the predominant ways through which I’ve come to not only measure my own worth, but also the health/status of my relationship with the Divine. And yes, I can intellectually argue myself out of all of this, but that does not lessen its grip; its ingrained, deep within, at-a-cellular-level hold on my heart.

I should be quick to say that I’ve also had profound personal experiences and seasons of belief that have been incredibly meaningful and even miraculous. It’s not a binary – my thoughts of God: all good or all bad, all true or all false, all worthwhile or all folly.

It’s complex: this God thing. And some days, it exhausts me; other most days it’s the only thing that sustains my hope.

Lest you are worried, it’s not actually giving up on God that I’m considering; it’s giving up on the work of considering God. It’s my desire, intention, and prayer to fall into Open Arms, ease, acceptance, flow, and grace; into a Presence that strengthens and soothes; into a God I inhale and exhale as naturally as I breath.

And maybe this is that:

If God is God, then I can trust that He/She/It will not give up on me.

Inhale. Exhale. Yes.

The “but” changes everything.

Mar 11, 2013 | Hope & Encouragement, Spirituality

With an hour’s drive ahead I pulled up Google on my iPhone – on the hunt for a scintillating audio to keep me company.

You might find it hard to believe, but I typed “Walter Brueggemann sermons” into my search bar. An Old Testament scholar extraordinaire, Brueggemann offers brilliant and innovative insight into ancient texts that continues to dazzle me. This was no exception.

He told the story of a young woman who attends his church, bound to a wheelchair, unable to speak, fed through a tube, and completely dependent upon caregivers. He pondered what she must think about on Sunday mornings. Week after week of sermons, liturgy, and ritual – none of which she can talk about or participate in, at least as others around her do. In this context, he then read Psalm 31: 9-15,
positioning her as the psalmist.

Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am in distress;
my eyes grow weak with sorrow,
my soul and body with grief.
My life is consumed by anguish
and my years by groaning;
my strength fails because of my affliction,
and my bones grow weak.
Because of all my enemies,
I am the utter contempt of my neighbors
and an object of dread to my closest friend —
those who see me on the street flee from me.
I am forgotten as though I were dead;
I have become like broken pottery.
For I hear many whispering,
“Terror on every side!”
They conspire against me
and plot to take my life.

I can imagine Brueggemann is right: this must be how this young woman feels so much of the time. And though I don’t begin to understand her plight, I know my own version of these emotions. So do you. Different circumstances, but no less acute, our complaints are allowed and legitimate.

This psalm reminds us that it is normal and even acceptable to articulate such a dirge; to express exactly how we sometimes feel – to a god of our own understanding who can handle it. Indeed, in the face of such injustice and ache, the divine is often the only one who can handle it – and us – raw honesty, complete candor, no holding back.

This, in and of itself, was worth the sermon and the drive. But Brueggemann continued, turning the corner in the psalm and drawing his listeners attention to the “disruptive conjunction” that occurs after the litany of frustration, fear, pain, and emotion; one small word that changes everything:

But…

But I trust in you, Lord;
I say, “You are my God.”
My times are in your hands…

Yes, there is much that threatens to destroy, but…
Yes, there is injustice, but…
Yes, there is heartbreak, but…
Yes, there is misunderstanding, but…
Yes, there is sickness and sorrow and sadness, but…
Yes, there is anxiety and worry, but…
But…my times are in your hands.

This is what changes the psalmist’s perspective. This is what changes our perspective – about ourselves, about those around us, about our world. Not a dismissal or diminishment of any or all that threatens to overwhelm; certainly not a dismissal or diminishment of a young woman’s wheelchair-bound existence. But one simple conjunctive that disrupts lament with something else; someOne else.

The but changes everything.

Is it that simple? Does just saying it make it so? Is it true even if belief is less than rock-solid? Is it enough to repeat the words like mantra without the accompanying feelings?

I do not know. Here is what I do know:

I’d rather cling to even the most doubt-laden and insincere repetition of that but…than to let go of faith and trust.

To hope-to-believe that my times are in the divine’s hands (and my ever-changing definition/experience of such) changes how I act, how I choose, how I behave, how I love, how I live. And that is enough. At least for today.

The last verse of Psalm 31 says this:

Be strong and take heart,
all you who hope in God.

No if’s, and’s, or but’s about it: may it be so.