The Full Moon and other thoughts

Mar 6, 2015 | Mothers and Daughters, Spirituality

Whoever you are: some evening take a step out of your house, which you know so well. Enormous space is near. 

~ Rainier Marie Rilke

Yesterday marked another full moon. I’m paying attention to such things these days. I’m honoring Her cycle; my own. As it waxes, letting go. As it wanes, inviting in. This is liturgy. This is ritual. This is the Sacred.

But it’s not the Sacred I grew up with.

Back then I sat still in church. I listened carefully. I (tried to) dutifully obey. And though my required demeanor was calm-serene-peaceful, within was often a different story. Frustration. Longing. Grief. Desire. These emotions were parked at the door. The Perfect Persona applied, like a mask.

I’ll be honest: it’s not fair to drop this reality only at the feet of the church. It was true in so many other aspects of my life, as well; namely my marriage and my job(s). Oh, how well I learned and practiced the rules, the expectations, the unspoken-but-practically-shouted way of being that was required. Be good. Don’t rock the boat. Stay within the lines. Practice makes perfect. Seen not heard. Sometimes not even seen.

I’m grown up now. I no longer sit in church. And I’ve learned that obedience isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Now, when my demeanor is calm, serene, and at peace, that’s actually how I feel! No emotions unexpressed. No masks. Just me. (And a
lunar calendar on my wall.)

This does not mean that I no longer believe, that I have abandoned all faith, that my heart no longer soars at a strain from a hymn or the stories that save me. In fact, just weeks ago, I did sit in church and watch my eldest daughter get baptized for a second time. 18 years ago, I held her as a newborn, silent tears rolling down my cheeks in gratitude for her miraculous presence in my life. This time she walked up three steps then stepped down into a huge hot-tub and allowed the pastor to dunk her completely under the water. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks in gratitude again – this time for her heart, her faith, her desire to express it in an acknowledged, bold, and unmasked way.

Last week I sat at a fundraising banquet for the youth ministry that enraptures my youngest daughter. She texted me throughout saying, “Aren’t you having the best time?!?” I knew she was; that this is a safe and sacred space for her. More tears as I watched her sing and smile and step into the life of faith she desires.

And yesterday I honored the full moon, the Sacred, my turbulent-yet- tenacious faith, and an ever-increasing love for/by the Divine (who, by the way, is totally into lunar cycles).

This is the Sacred. Nothing prescribed. Nothing locked down by dogma or doctrine. Possible. Open. Full (like the moon). Big enough, magnificent enough, glorious enough, and grace-full enough that any and every way in which our hearts are moved can be honored, resonant, and true.

May it be so.

Imagining God’s Voice as “She”

Dec 2, 2014 | Spirituality, Women's Wisdom

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).

 

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.

The Sacred in a High School Gym

Nov 11, 2014 | Mothers and Daughters, Spirituality

Yesterday morning I sat in a high school gym surrounded by teenagers. The Veteran’s Day Assembly. I wasn’t there because of what was being commemorated (though that was worthwhile). I was there because my youngest, Abby, was singing in the choir and I wanted to hear her. It was, she was, as I expected: fabulous.

Something happens to me, within me, when I hear choral music – the haunting harmonies, the familiar melodies, beauty that causes my heart to catch in my throat. I cannot help but cry. Today was no different. What I hadn’t expected was to see my oldest, Emma. She moved all over that same gym, wearing a “School Photographer” badge and wielding her camera. One moment she was taking pictures of a line of U.S. flags, the next a Veteran who stood alone and proud while the rest of us applauded, and in the midst, the faces of her peers who made up the bulk of the audience. Something happened to me, within me, as I watched her see and capture beauty. It caused my heart to catch in my throat. I could not help but cry.

Just for a moment, sitting on that folding chair, I realized that this was the Sacred: two young women, my daughters, their felt/heard/seen presence in the world, their voices and talents shared. Just for a moment, I took a deep, raggedy breath and gave thanks. And then I cried some more.

It wasn’t about them (though of course it was). It was about just that moment. Right then, right there, and completely unexpected, I was part of something Bigger than me, beyond me, and smack in the center of me. The Sacred.

Truth-be-told, I rarely notice these moments. That could be probably is because I am more often, longing for, praying for, working for deep, wide, and ongoing ways in which I can endlessly, consistently feel connected to something of Meaning, of Beauty, of God. And yet, all along, the Sacred is showing up. Today especially. And apparently, exclusively, perfectly, powerfully, tenderly, amazingly – just for me.

That’s grace. That’s God. That’s enough.

May it be so.

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.

Everything is Sacred

Oct 27, 2014 | My sort-of Sermons, Spirituality

“In this moment, everything is sacred.” ~ Ariel Books

Oh, how we long to accede to this intellectually, but far more, to know it, to believe it, to live it – emotionally, relationally, intimately, viscerally, really. We spend an inordinate amount of time trying to incorporate the sacred into our day-to-day lives in ever-increasing, palpable, felt ways; to figure out how to sense and know Its presence. And though such efforts are wise, grounding, and strengthening, here’s the thing:

We don’t have to look for, search for, or beseech the sacred into our midst. Nothing is required – not our attention, our awareness, or even our acceptance. No faithfulness needed. No obedience demanded. No demonstration of particular behaviors or beliefs as proof that we’re deserving.

The sacred does not depend upon you.

This is grace, to be sure: to realize, allow, and walk through every single aspect of your day completely soaked in the stuff, breathing in sacredness no matter what. It is just.that.simple.

Repeat after me:

In this moment, everything is sacred.
In this moment, everything is sacred.
In this moment, everything is sacred.
In this moment, everything is sacred.
In this moment, everything is sacred.

May it be so. (Oh wait! It already is!!!)

Head acknowledged. Heart aflame.

Sep 28, 2014 | Hope & Encouragement, Spirituality, Women's Wisdom

Something within you knows that you bring a seeing, a knowing, a perspective to this world that, once expressed, might just (and probably will) change everything. So far, you’ve kept it under the radar and off the grid. But within, you are intuitively certain of the capacity you hold, the reason you’re here, the gift you have to give that defies our every expectation.

You can (sometimes) feel it. You can (usually) sense it. You are (mostly) sure. You have been waiting and watching and planning and dreaming and…holding back.

It’s just out of your reach. It’s just on the edge. It’s (seemingly) just outside your door. And…it’s a lot: Unleashing this much power, this much might, this much brilliance, this much passion, this much you.

You’re not quite ready to leave this place.

Not yet.

*****

One day, one moment, probably when you are least expecting it, your very Heart will knock on your door. You will watch it step boldly, winsomely, breathtakingly across the threshold. You will feel its energy, your adrenalin, the thrill. Every condition will be right and you’ll know, with a flash of insight and wave of emotion, that this is it.

And you will hear it say, “Yes. This is it.” Finally. At long last. The Breakthrough.

Or so you think.

On that same day, just a moment later (or is it sooner?), right on its wings, another guest arrives. You didn’t invite this one, but it always seems to show up – forceful, pushy, well-known. It’s your Head.

Wrestling its way into the room, it sounds something like this: “Oh no, no,
NO! Now is not the time. You’re not strong enough, smart enough, known enough, important enough, brave enough…yet. Wait a while longer. Think on it. Don’t rush into anything. You should hold back.”

But something about this day and this moment is different. Something shifts. Stars align. Your confidence soars. Your body knows. And your wiser, calmer, truer, bravest self invites both your Heart and your Head to join you.

You welcome them in. You offer them unparalleled kindness, hospitality, and conversational reign.

Your Head gulps strong black coffee; determined, focused, on-task. Your Heart sips peppermint tea; bemused.

You open up an Excel spreadsheet for one and open up space, period, for the other.

Your Head goes to work while your Heart “just” dances.

You allow the familiar fear, insecurity, and cynicism, the checks and balances, the pros and cons, the conservative, safe, protective stance, the logic, the reason, your heavy sigh. Simultaneously, you are captivated by the lack of restraint, the hope, the magnificence, the imagination, the passion, the risk, your pulse.

This day, this moment, you sit back and take it all in – amazed by the vastness of both.

After a while, caffeine wearing off and certain it’s been heard, your Head finally relaxes and takes a well-deserved nap. It’s so tired. It’s been working so hard and for so long. And then, late into the night, unhindered, unrestrained, unafraid, you and your Heart desire and dream and yes, dance.

The day, the moment will come when, Head resting comfortably and Heart ablaze, you will reach out, turn the knob, swing wide the door, and step over the edge. You are ready to leave. You will confidently and compassionately cross into the world that has been eluding you for far too long. You will look around and be overwhelmed, humbled, transformed.

*****

It’s not about head vs. heart. It’s about opening the door, ushering in and acknowledging what frightens, limits, and restrains. It’s about opening up space, listening to, and trusting the steady beat-beat-beat of that know-that-you-know-that-you-know voice within. It’s about being grateful for how brilliant your head actually is and reminding it (and yourself) that it’s your heart that rules this roost. It’s about realizing that home is where your heart is…which means you are ready to go.

Unleash all that power, all that might, all that brilliance, all that passion, all that is you.

No more holding back.

May it be so.

[Deep appreciation to Jepthah’s Daughter and her story for connecting me to my own. Just one of the ancient, sacred narratives I so need and so love.]

If my writing resonates, I’d be honored if you’d subscribe to A Sunday Letters. A long-form email from my heart to yours. Once a week. Totally free. Learn more.