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Seemingly Random Things

Feb 23, 2023 | Spirituality

My oldest daughter lives about 9.5 hours away; a reasonable road-trip. So, in preparation for my most recent trek her way, I prepared! I downloaded an audio book in advance, along with a couple podcasts that I’ve been meaning to listen to. I couldn’t have anticipated the way in which these (and one more event besides) weaved themselves into something else entirely.

Four (seemingly) random things I now see as completely interconnected.

Thing #1:
I listened to Celeste Ng’s newest book, Our Missing Hearts. I knew I couldn’t go wrong with this choice, given how much I loved Everything I Never Told You and Little Fires Everywhere. Plus I’d recently heard her on a podcast and was intrigued by her perspective, her wisdom, her heart.

I won’t spoil the story for you, but suffice it to say it is profoundly thought-provoking. It solidified so many of my opinions/fears about our hyper-patriotic culture, about “leadership”-through-fear, about how easy (and understandably self-protective) it is to look the other way instead of stepping toward justice. And all of this through a plot that primarily involves an 11-year-old boy.

Thing #2:
About an hour into my return trip, I finished the book and switched over to the 2022 Podcast of the Year: Roe V. Wade by Slow Burn. Only 4 episodes long (unless you subscribe and get all the bonus content), it doesn’t talk at all about the recent repeal of this ruling; rather, it tells the powerful (and mostly unknown) stories of individual women and cases, their trials, the unbelievable legal battles, and the convergence of forces that enabled this legislation to be passed in the first place.

It’s well worth listening to. It was a reminder of how easily women, their bodies, and their agency/will is disregarded AND how important it is—ongoing and always—to hear and honor women’s stories, both individually and collectively.

Thing #3:
I listened to a second podcast from the New York Times called 1619 that tells of how slavery has transformed America.

Again, SO worth listening to. It was a glaring and heartbreaking acknowledgement of how much I take for granted, how much I actually do not know, and how excruciating our history is—not to mention the ways in which every bit of this continues to be perpetuated.

Thing #4:

Just a day or so after my road trip, news was released that Stephen tWitch Boss had died by suicide.

Both of my daughters texted me when they heard the news, given that years and years ago we were obsessed by So You Think You Can Dance—when he won and then the years that followed in which he came back as a mentor and most recently a judge.

This has me reeling and deeply cognizant of the following: 1) we never know what other people are actually experiencing and feeling, no matter how things look on the outside; and 2) the cultural belief-and-demand that success, fame, money, and more will make us happy is a complete lie.

OK. So, how do these things connect to one another? You’ve probably already spotted the common thread, but let me gather it all together by saying this: unless we remain awake and aware, so much passes us by that remains unnoticed, unnamed, and unhealed.

And this: forces always conspire to invite us more deeply into our own story and all that is ours to learn, embrace, and transform both within and without.

An event occurs. An email arrives. A strong, even unexpected emotion thrums in your chest. A conversation takes place. There’s a book you read, a podcast you listen to, a news story you hear, a song that lingers and haunts. All of it seems random in the moment, but when you look beneath / behind / within, you will glimpse what’s weaving them all together . . . and all on your behalf.

These threads, these glimmers, these connections ARE the sacred: endless and infinite ways in which seemingly disparate aspects of our life are really one big, beautiful story that waits for us to see it as such, that holds its breath in anticipation of us stepping into it, that longs for us to live with complete trust in its truth.

Whew! This feels like a big claim: the (seemingly) random events and experiences in our lives are evidence of the sacred, the presence of the sacred, the activity of the sacred—and all on our behalf. 

So, my invitation in all of this? Be curious about the myriad and (seemingly) random ways in which the sacred shows up for you. You don’t have to go searching for it, preparing yourself for it, or working your fingers to the bone to deserve it. Gift. Grace. Surprise. Serendipity. And (seemingly) random.

Mmmm. May it be so, yes? 

My Struggle with Envy

Feb 17, 2023 | Hope & Encouragement

A few weeks back, in the midst of my morning writing/journaling, I reflected on a snippet of my behavior. Something about it caught me, like a snag in a sweater. So I typed lots (and lots) of words and sentences and paragraphs to try and identify what I was feeling.

I’m not proud of it, but “jealousy” is what I had to admit. Later, upon referring to Brené Brown’s lexicon in Atlas of the Heart, I realized it was actually “envy.” She says this:

Jealousy is when we fear losing a relationship or a valued part of a relationship that we already have. Envy occurs when we want something that another person has.

Definitely envy.

We live in a world that thrives on envy.

Capitalism and commercialism do everything in their power to create and sustain this emotional state. These systems flourish because they have us endlessly wanting something that another person has.

It’s reinforced through endless messages (inside and out) that cajole us to believe we will only be whole, complete, happy, and fulfilled when and if we are successful, wealthy, loved, admired, thin, and/or ______________ (fill in the blank).

If this weren’t enough, the slightest scroll through Instagram floods us with images of those who DO have all this, who at least appear to have what we have been persuaded and convinced to want, desire, (and purchase) at almost any cost.

It requires a tremendous amount of self-awareness and discipline to NOT feel envy! Brené Brown names that psychologically (and culturally) it is almost impossible for us to avoid it. But then she says this:

Even if we do not choose whether or not to make a comparison, we can choose whether or not to let that comparison affect our mood or self-perceptions.

Exactly.

This is what I’ve been thinking about since tripping over my own comparison and envy. It has definitely affected my mood and self-perceptions. I need and want to make a different choice. And I’m wondering if maybe, just maybe, you can relate.

We nearly buckle under unrelenting pressure to have perfect clothes, homes, jobs, bodies, faces, hair, shoes, relationships, and a practically perfect attitude at all times.

Since comparison is a given and the lure toward envy is rife, how can we make a different choice or at least have another way to look at this?

No surprise: I have some thoughts.

I once had the privilege of spending a day in the presence of Gertrude Mueller Nelson, author of Here All Dwell Free (which if you haven’t read you must.) I remember taking furious notes as she said that instead of feeling self-contempt or shame for our envy, we should understand it to be a reflection of our desire; a mirror of what we hold to be of value for ourselves.

Our envy offers us evidence of what we desire; that we desire, period!

When we want something another person has or wish that another person’s reality were our own, we are gaining profound insight into our very selves. This is not a bad thing. It’s a powerful naming and knowing!

Iwantto be aware of what I want. It’s the only way I can discern what is worth pursuing and what is most-definitely not!

When we identify and name what we want, we can distinguish between what we actually desire and what our culture tells us to want (and want and want some more). 

The morning I’d been journaling, I was writing about a webinar I’d attended the day before, taught by a relatively well-known woman: what I liked and didn’t, what I agreed with and didn’t. Instead of reflecting more on my own thoughts, I left the journaling document entirely, opened a new tab, pulled up her website, and fell down a too-deep rabbit hole that had me literally calculating (with a calculator) how much she must be making every year. Envy. Envy. Envy!

(Did I mention I’m not proud of this?)

When I finally returned to my words on the screen, my envy offered me a clue — evidence of what I actually desire. On the surface, it’s money. BUT (and this is important) once I saw and named this, I very quickly knew it to be something culture tells me to want, NOT what I really want. It’s not that I don’t want money. I am just very, very clear that I do NOT want to be sucked into any vortex that tells me having more of it will make me whole, complete, happy, fulfilled, blah, blah, blah.

What do I really want? What’s underneath? Mmmmm. Assuredness. Security. Groundedness. A sense of being “at home” and “at rest” with my work and very sense of self.

No matter what we think we want, no matter what we have been conditioned to want — money, beauty, success, fame, power, even a perfect holiday — all are mist and shadow, myth and false promise.

What lies underneath is ours to know, honor, and value. These deeper desires are worthy of us; they are good, deserved, beautiful and true! WE are worthy!

“. . . Esther Perel says desire is owning the wanting, and in order to own the wanting, there needs to be a self that feels deserving of the wanting.(Reclaiming Body Trust)

When we name what we truly desire, we have agency. We are not at the whim of anything Instagram or Facebook tells/sells us, others’ opinions or expectations, past beliefs, even our circumstances. And we can bravely name (even grieve), where these things have NOT been true, present, known, or felt.

To acknowledge what we truly desire allows us to step away from envy and instead, move toward ourselves. Our truest, deepest desire becomes our North Star!

That was a lot of words to ultimately say just this:

Let yourself want what you want. It invites you into the truth of what you most truly desire and deserve.

I wish I could tell you that I quickly identified envy that morning, walked through all of these insights, and closed the document on my laptop feeling so much better about myself. That would not be true. What I can tell you is that giving myself permission to name what I was truly feeling, albeit slightly painful, enabled me to eventually see and understand so much more. Isn’t that always the way of it? The things we’d prefer to avoid are the very things that invite our healing, growth, and wisdom.

I hope envy is not a constant, even occasional visitor in your day-to-day reality. But on the off-chance that it is, may its presence remind you of just how beautiful your desire truly is; of how beautiful your heart is when it wants what it truly wants.

May it be so.

*****

Every week I write A Sunday Letter. It’s from my heart to yours . . . via email. I’d be honored if you’d subscribe.

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.

About Rest

Feb 3, 2023 | Spirituality, Women's Wisdom

In her book, Rest is Resistance: A Manifesto, Tricia Hersey says this:

“Rest is radical because it disrupts the lie that we are not doing enough. It shouts: ‘No, that is a lie. I am enough. I am worthy now and always because I am here.’”

It’s easier said than done . . . resting, disrupting the lie, believing that we are enough.

It’s the polar opposite of what the world promotes and pushes. It flies in the face of capitalism and hustle culture. It is radical. And it’s what I hunger for. Not just in terms of time, but deep within.

I’m asking myself some questions toward rest’s end. I hope they will serve you, as well:

  • Where do I feel the opposite of rest? What causes such, who causes such, and why do I persist in any of it? No shame. No pressure. Just awareness. (And rest.)
  • How might I choose rest as state-of-mind and way-of-being instead of succumbing to what others expect? WAY easier said than done, but it feels critical to growth and wholeness.
  • What are ways of being, practices, and rhythms that will call me home to myself, that give me permission to rest? No efforting. No harshness. Just curiosity and grace.

I fully intend to repeat Tricia Hersey’s words, again and again, “I am enough. I am worthy now and always because I am here.”

Deep breath.

Rest.

May it be so.

*****

If my writing resonates, I’d be honored if you’d subscribe to my weekly email: A Sunday Letter. Learn more.

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In Praise (and Pursuit) of Normal

Jan 27, 2023 | My sort-of Sermons, Writing

I turned my book’s manuscript in to my publisher just over three weeks ago. It’s a bit of a shock, given that for the past year, I have had a minimum of two full days per week blocked for nothing but writing (not to mention the 20-some years I’ve been working on this thing!) I now find myself with days that are blank, open, spacious . . . and admittedly, a bit daunting.

Part of me revels in this reality. I (mostly) appreciate that I am not busy, pressured, or stressed; very few demands are placed upon me. When I can stay with it, it feels “normal,” somehow. This is rare, even strange, when compared to how much of my life has been shaped-if-not-defined by exactly these things: busyness, pressure, and stress (as a mom, a single mom, an employee, a laid-off employee, an entrepreneur, and far more hats-worn than I dare count).

“Normal” is in fierce opposition to what our culture endlessly pushes and promotes: messages to respond to, emails to answer, feeds to scroll, exercise regimens to enforce, meal plans to obey, days that are never long enough to get everything done, planners and calendars to purchase, time-management systems to master, success to achieve, money to make, more to buy, more to do, more to become . . .

We live in a world that does not honor, esteem, or support “normal;” rather, it demands just the opposite.

It’s no wonder we struggle to rest, to breathe, to loosen our grip, to *just* be.

Given all this, you can imagine my response to this quote:

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, savor you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow.” ~ Mary Jean Irion

As you read her words, I wonder: do you exhale in gratitude? Or do you feel a sense of longing, an “I wish” that rises up within?

Me? I feel a bit of both. I want this to be true — treasuring normal days — AND it feels foreign, sometimes even slightly impossible. I’m way more familiar with the “quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow.” Not so much as it relates to a singular day, but the quest for perfection in and of itself. Ugh.

Yes, I know better, but it hardly stops me from fantastical thinking: if I could just do/get/attain/manage/accomplish X, Y, and/or Z, then surely everything would come together, fall into place, and be . . . well . . . perfect.

Right.

It feels worth naming that when we stay in fantastical thinking, the pursuit of perfection, and the grind of the day-in-day-out Hustle (which pervades everything we see and hear around us), we forget what “normal” even is. Worse, we no longer see it as “treasure.” Instead, normal becomes something to avoid at all costs: Who wants to be normal? Who wants to live a normal life? Who wants to settle for *just* normal? 

Uh, I do. Desperately.

I’ve spent a lifetime captivated (“confined” is more accurate) by the climb, the challenge, the race, any and every effort to do and be more/better/all that I can be. It’s incredibly seductive! Which explains why, when I have time on my hands, I feel restless — like something’s wrong or “off.” I wander around (especially in my mind), trying to come up with what I “should” be doing, what will accelerate and advance, what will move me forward. Because CLEARLY, “normal” is not nearly enough!

Except that it is!

I get glimpses of “normal” every once in a while: moments, even a stretch of them, in which I am satisfied by very little, by something small, by doing nothing. I am able to let things be as they are vs. demanding they be different. I (miraculously) give myself permission to not do something else — one more thing — and even more after that. Steps in the right direction. Bit-by-bit. “Normal” as intentional choice and oh-so-gentle pursuit.

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, savor you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow.”

I have more to think about and MUCH more to practice when it comes to embracing and treasuring “normal” in my life. I know this with complete certainty because even in this very moment I am wondering what more I should write in this article to make sure it is pithy and meaningful and deep and . . . well . . . perfect. *sigh*

I’m making myself stop.

These last thoughts (for you and me both):

  • Reflect on how you might define and express “normal” in relationships; with time, money, and work.
  • What if you let go of every “quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow”?
  • Consider a C- as a completely acceptable grade.
  • Believe that you are already and always enough, that no more is required of you to be worthy, valued, and loved.
  • Normalize “normal” in every way you possibly can, knowing that you’ll never get it completely right, completely perfect, completely anything . . . which is exactly the point!

May it be so.

I hope the days ahead offer you generous opportunity to let go of any and all expectations/demands of “more,” that you can *just* be, and that normal reigns. Ahhhhhh.

Two P.S.’s:

1) I recently came across the idea of C- (mentioned above) when reading Reclaiming Body Trust: A Path to Healing and Liberation by Hilary Kinavy and Dana Sturtevant. I highly recommend this book. It is challenging SO much within me and it feels hugely significant, even critical.

2) Worth reading one more time: “Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, savor you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow.” ~ Mary Jean Irion

If my writing resonates, I’d be honored if you’d subscribe to A Sunday Letter. Long-form, from me to you, every week. Learn more.