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About “someday”

You know of Lizzo, yes? Her music, her recent show on Amazon — Watch Out For the Big Grrrls, her incredible voice as a singer, but also in the world. I am enthralled by her, quite honestly; taken aback (in the best of ways) by her boldness, her courage, her defiance, her fierceness. 

I recently came across something she said that feels worth sending your way — along with some thoughts of my own and hopefully prompting many of yours! 

“My movement is my movement. When all the dust has settled on the groundbreaking-ness, I’m going to still be doing this. I’m not going to suddenly change. I’m going to still be telling my life story through music. And if that’s body-positive to you, amen. If that’s feminist to you, amen. If that’s pro-black to you, amen. Because ma’am, I’m all of those things.”

Many if not most of us hope to do something groundbreaking, to enable some kind of significant change, to leave a lasting legacy. And right alongside that desire — whether secret or stated — is our lack of belief that such a thing will ever be so. 

Or maybe it’s just me. 

There is so much I’d love to be able to do, transform, create, dismantle, build up, leave behind. I have the greatest visions, the biggest imagination, the strongest hopes and a voice within that says, “Keep it in check. Tone it down. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Who do you think you are?”

Who do I think I am? Well, if I lean on Lizzo’s wisdom…

“I’m all those things.” 

It’s not about becoming more, somehow transforming ourselves into who we yet want to be. It’s about acknowledging who we already are! 


Consider listing out all of the things you most hope for and dream about in your own groundbreaking-ness. 

Now, will you (can you) acknowledge them as who you already are? Not who you might or might not become. Not someday but today! Not what you wish could happen, but don’t dare dream. Not what you visualize or long to manifest. But already within you, part of you, all of you — right now.

Lizzo’s self-acknowledged groundbreaking-ness has to do with being body-positive and feminist and pro-black. “I’m all of those things.” My groundbreaking-ness has to do with redeeming women’s stories and inviting/compelling women into their inherent sovereignty. “I’m all of those things.” 

And your groundbreaking-ness? What is it? What do you want it to be? What would you hope-beyond-hope it could be? What if you are all of those things? (You are, you know?!)

If, like me, your inner critic is already working over time to convince you of just how impossible all of this is, that’s the BEST news!

It’s evidence that you are on to something, that your groundbreaking-ness is not only imminent but inherent within you! Otherwise, the voice wouldn’t be speaking at all!

The gap between what you desire and what you doubt is the very path to take. It IS the discernment you need to keep moving forward. It’s the direction that’s yours to walk. 

Not easy, but clear. Not without risk or cost, but worth every one. And “when all the dust has settled,” the you-you-already-are you will still be standing — in all your groundbreaking-ness and gloriousness. 

May it be so!

When Darkness Threatens

But a grave separateness has invaded the world… ~ Naomi Shihab Nye

It is said that in the beginning, darkness hovered over the face of the earth. God separated the dark from the light, the night from the day, created the moon and the sun, and decreed that all of this was good.

Oh, how we fight the separateness, the disconnectedness, the darkness, the aching spaciousness and silence that often seem to reign. We are loathe to call such “good.” Still, there is something about the darkness that connects us most profoundly to ourselves and to each other. And this is good. Not as reason or justification for the grief, the violence, the harm, the graves; but as evidence of light’s endless, undaunted, and determined presence, despite it all.

Clarissa Pinkola Estes tells an old, old story of when Mother Moon was stolen. At its end, these words:

On nights there was no light to guide, and so many people became lost, and so many children became orphaned, and so many people suffered, the villagers decided they must go and find what had become of the moon. Armed with torches and clubs, they trekked through the night into the bog, sinking down into the wet and slimy grass all the way up to their knees, and cold and wet they continued on. The evil things were about and surrounded them, scratching and clawing at them, but the flames from their torches kept them safe.

And they came to a great boulder, and they said they did not think this boulder was in this place before. There was a little lip of light all the way around it that shown whiter than white. With great excitement they lifted and they hauled and they tugged until the boulder rolled away. And then staring down into what seemed like the most beautiful face they had ever seen, they saw eyes filled with the love of humanity.

This is what we seek, and this is what we find when darkness threatens to overwhelm: “…eyes filled with the love of humanity.”

Ours. Other’s. Always.

May it be so.

*******

(This post acknowledges and grieves darkness’ aftermath in Beirut, Baghdad, Kenya, Syria, and Paris. In endless hope that light will dawn…)

Imagining God’s Voice as “She”

I know. I know. God is neither a man nor a white-bearded patriarch in the sky. And yes, I know that God is not a woman either. Qualities of both. The best of everything. (Thankfully) beyond my capacity to imagine, entertain, or hope. Energy and light and love. Yes, I know.

But just because I know something doesn’t mean I can fully incorporate it. Just because the intellectual and intelligent part of me gets it, doesn’t mean that I don’t, still, admittedly, struggle to separate from old habits, deeply-ingrained lessons, nearly-in-my-DNA-dogma. And truth-be-told, sometimes, when stuck in this kind of mental spinning and theological puzzling, I want to throw the baby out with the bathwater. Only not really…

I need ways of helping my brain latch onto and understand something else, anything else. I need experiences of something, anything else.

More than all else, I need and long for my head to quiet down and my heart to speak; for Her to speak. And so, by way of practice and discipline, I imagine the voice of God as a woman. What does She say? What does She know? How does She invite me to new ways of experiencing the Sacred that already and always dwell within me?

Most recently, just.like.this.:

I see how deeply and desperately you long for rest. Rest from the swirling, spinning, endless thoughts in your brain. Rest from attempts to control outcomes. Rest from the labor required to get circumstances (and particular people) to go your way. Despite all your best intentions, all the work your brilliant mind does to craft and implement solutions, at the end of the day, you can rest. Your heart will carry you. Your soul knows. Your intuition courses powerfully through your blood, your body, your very being. And there is a larger story that is writing you. It is beautiful and miraculous. Even more, you are beautiful and miraculous. You are a womb for miracles. You bear and bring forth life that is infinite and dazzling in impact and force. You are chosen. You are worthy. You are seen. You are so much more than enough. And you are not too much. Ever.

Because of all this…and so much more, you are loved.

And did I mention? You can rest.

To tell you that I have deep, unfailing faith that never wavers wouldn’t be true. What is true, though, is that I have deep, unfailing, and never-wavering hunger – and hope – for all of the above, and then some. If I could find, know, and experience this God, I’d be sold, I’d be committed, I’d be devoted, I’d preach!

I do find, know, and experience this God.

Just not all of the time.

Anne LaMott once said that “the absence of faith is not doubt, but certainty.” Because I really like Anne LaMott and because I am convinced she has a direct line to God (how else could she write as she does?) I’m going to go with this. I trust that my uncertainty is actually the doorway into faith; a faith that far exceeds the one I grew up with, the one that is too small, the one with the white, bearded man in the sky. And as I continue to doubt, I’m going to continue with the “if God was a woman” process for no other reason than to offer my brain some God-given rest and much-deserved Grace; to let my heart lead and beat and love as it wants and knows to do. In the midst, maybe, just maybe I’ll come to believe (i.e., have faith) that every single word I’ve written above is actually true.

That would offer me rest. And it does.

May it be so (for you, as well).

 


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Go Into the Darkness.

Gazing into the mirror, I saw myself as I was – a black silhouette in the room, a woman whose darkness had completely leaked through. ~ Sue Monk Kidd, The Mermaid Chair

It is into the darkness that we are beingcalled – those of us who are wise andlovely. Underwater. Into the woods.Further down. Deeper in.

As I talk to other women about this, they intuitively understand exactly what I mean.They nod their heads, smile slightly, and sigh. We *clink* our glasses (virtually or real) and wonder where it will lead, what we will yet discover, how we will emerge – if we do at all.

We do not fear. This is no scary unknown that threatens to overwhelm. No, this is a provocative darkness of swirling power and endless potential – a return to some earlier knowing, primal experience, and ancient home.

This is a darkness of beauty, seduction, and irresistible pull. This is a darkness in which we gather up all our force, all our wisdom, and every ounce of volume we’ve neglected to express (or which we’ve been taught to suppress). This is a darkness that holds, that nurtures, that restores.

This is a womb, a safe haven, a coven-like embrace of the Feminine. It’s sacred. Witch cauldrons boiling. Secret formulas whispered. Dark magic practiced. It’s exactly what we’ve longed for longer than we can remember. It tugs at a part of us we’ve forgotten…but…we are remembering at an increasingly exponential pace.

In this darkness we speak a language that does not yet make sense on the surface, in our day-to-day life. It’s guttural, before time, and cryptic. Still, we recognize and respond to this native, mother tongue. And we know that once we’ve re-mastered it, we will never speak the same way (or of the same things) ever again.

The longer we are here, the more our eyes adjust, the more our throats loosen their too-familar constriction, the slower our hearts beat.

At first, just shapes and long-neglected senses, now faces, voices, parts of the self that have been in hiding – waiting to be found. And so many other women. Those who have been here all along, holding our place in the circle. They immediately welcome us – faces aglow in the sacred fire that crackles, beckons, and burns. Eve. Lilith. Hagar. Mary Magdalene. The Woman at the Well. Pandora. Psyche. Demeter. Medusa. Sophia.

Here, in the darkness, our eyes can see all, our voices speak unfettered, and our pulse throbs in a rhythm that comforts and heals.

We have no intention of leaving.

You know of what I speak. The undertow that precariously upsets your footing, but thrills you somehow. The branches that scratch at your arms as you enter the forest – willing and wondering.

Keep walking. Listen to the trees. Let go. Trust the tides, the waves, the water, your tears. Take a deep breath, dive, and then exhale – certain that when needed, you can and will inhale. All that you need, all that sustains, all that supports, encourages, and empowers awaits you. It has always been here.

Go into the darkness. I’ll meet you there.

*****

As I have written this post, I have wanted for more articulate language; for some way of making sense of all that I am feeling and sensing within – this darkness that calls and willingly consumes. Then I realize: that’s the way of it, the way of the darkness – at least for now. No translation required. No justification. No argument. No reasoning. No reasons. Just dark and beautiful and home. If we will go there, if we will gather there, if we will stay there, we will find one another. And then, together and grateful, we will dance and sing. We will toast with endless, delicious elixir. We will speak in a thousand tongues. We will look into each other’s eyes. We will be seen and known.

One last thing – at least for now: this can and does happen at any moment and at any time, all the time. Because deep calls to deep and like knows like. So look for the darkness and trust that it is looking for you.

Once found, once seen, once experienced, once felt, even in the slightest and most surreptitious of ways, you’ll know exactly what I mean. You’ll nod your head, smile slightly, sigh, and then *clink* your glass with the rest of us. Welcome home.

Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

Who would you be if you didn’t hold back?

Who would you be if you didn’t hold back?

If all your power, compassion, love, and strength roared into any room, any conversation, any relationship? If you glided through earth and sky and sea, nothing able to hold you down, hold you under, hold you captive? If you rode upon the back of a lion, blazing across the surface of the sun? If you danced in the light of the fire with abandon; no hint of restraint? If you spoke at a nearly guttural level, bringing words, ideas, and emotions to the surface that surprised even you? If you conjured up the most powerful and potent wisdom then dispersed it into the darkest of spaces, the hardest of hearts, the saddest of souls, the hopeless, the helpless?

Who would you be? Let me tell you: You would be you.

The woman who is set-loose, impossible to contain, and a carrier of the Divine. The woman you see in your dreams and get glimpses of when you’re angry, ecstatic, passionate, heartbroken. The woman who knows what to do and what to say. The woman who would eradicate all injustice with a single flick of her wrist. The woman who would heal all hurts in one huge embrace. The woman who would sing her kin into strength like a Pied Piper-ess. The woman who, with one inhale, would gather the galaxy into her very soul and with one exhale, restore our wounded planet to wholeness once again. The woman who dances and dances and dances the world into joy and fullness and passion and truth.

The Maiden. The Princess. The Queen. The Crone. The Goddess. The Mother. The Muse. The Witch. Lilith. Eve. The Madonna. The Magdalene. And the entire Angelic Host. This is you, woman. This is you!

Within you dwell all the women who have gone before – your direct lineage, to be sure, and that of every woman whose story was ever told and especially those that weren’t. Within you sing the voices of thousands who have lain silent for generations but who are, even now, gathering their strength, their force, their shared wisdom to cry out, to proclaim, to weep, to laugh, to transform. Within you flows royal, sacred blood that is yours to own, yours to take nourishment from, yours to transfuse into all and everything you love.

You know that this is true; that this is you. You’ve been feeling it more and more. And truth-be-told, it scares you a bit (though not all that much). This you is powerful. And this power, your power is dark and swirling and uncontrollable (which is exactly as it should be). This power, your power has no time for playing nice or mincing words. This power, your power is not even remotely interested in being restrained, in playing small. This power, this you is leaving any and all boundaried, imprisoned existence for the expanse of the heavens, the grit of the dirt, the moon-pulsing tides of the sea, the song of the trees, the light of the flame, the call of the crow.

Who would you be if you didn’t hold back?

You already know her.

You already know.