lonely

Ok, so...........here I am. Relaxed in the cozy comfort of my home.  I have a lot of thoughts growing and moving inside my head tonight and will continue to finish a few pieces of writing that seem to finally have met fruition.  My own quiet vigil on this blustery night. I am in a good place emotionally and spiritually.  Blessed.  Truly. 

I have been generating half baked pieces and for some reason I just couldn't get to the finish line with them.  This piece began one day when I was feeling a little lonely.  It created a source to dig deeper into that dark pit of loneliness, which I don't think I have truly felt myself, but have been privy to others sharing it with me.

The question I pondered........... how can I humanize the feeling?  How can I capture its essence in a descriptive picture that others could relate to?  After a great deal of thought about how to describe the real dark side of "lonely,"  the vision of an abandoned heart in a field covered in fog kept surfacing.  A little beating heart lost in a fallow field.  Once tended.  Now, left.

Somewhere along the line, I was struck by the realization that the feeling of loneliness is the devil's best friend.  We tend to succumb to our growling needs when we feel the most alone.   Humans need love and belonging and if it isn't attained?  We satisfy it by any means, despite our values.  Despite our better judgement.  Loneliness makes humans ripe for temptations.  

Here is the poem that finally fell out of my inside journey.  Sometimes its a good thing to peel away the layers to reach deeply into a feeling.......... just so you know.  Just so you can be with another who may be living in such a place.   Loneliness may be the friend of the devil, but it can also be the enlightenment we need to reach out with love to another human who may be suffering............

___________________________________ 

Shivering on a bed of dew,
a tearstained heart tugs on the hem of temptation.
If only........
Flattened by the heave of an unheard sigh
it sits on the edge of green fields blurred by dawn's fog
and looks longingly for a diamond balanced on the tip of tall grass.
hope..... if only.

Sleepy head dreary shivers with cold feet reality. 

Grey light drapes its folds over dismissive hills.

Devoured comfort breathes
the sound of chattering teeth behind parched lips.

Lips in need of a kiss.

Lips in need of moistened lips.  

A heart in need of love

beyond temptation.

If only.......

Ripped flannel, once heart protection
now reveals untended wounds.
This recluse in rags pumps with fear of being one,
Only one in ragtag tunes.

It begins to tumble
through thistles that whistle its name.  

Lonely.  Heart.

seeking..... comfort

only the lonely........
"Hello lonely......."
thistle whistles
hurting wounds.... 

One and only one it mumbles..........

as it succumbs to abandonment smothered in grief.

A crow cackles in the distance.

Interuptions.......

 late afternoon reflections along the Saint John river

summer 2009. 

"We interupt your daily living to bring you this moment of awareness.........."

I don't know if I'm addicted to drama, but honest to God, it  follows me like a determined puppy trying to get my attention.  My colleague and I often joke on Monday mornings that the upcoming week will flow calmly like an old river..... that all will be bright in our lives away from the office. IT never happens! One phone call, text, misstep, vomiting kid and we are off and running!  Our stories revolving around our connections with friends, men, family....heck even neighbours and community involvement ...the highs, lows, trials and tribulations.... the fun and the frustrations ..... seem to coincide with each others.  Drama sticks to her like glue too.   

We are both single Moms, working full-time. It is a strange and difficult thing to be heading up a household on one's own. Yes, I do get help, and I know she does too.  We are both very grateful, but when it comes to the "end of the day" we are in charge here of our kids, our homes, our responsibilities and it can be damn scary!  Juggle, juggle..... sort it out! 

It's always something!  There you are juggling your daily routines, and badabing!  Interuptions haggle for your attention!

I know there are people in my life who are afraid to ask me...."what's new?"  There are days when I dread that question. Where do I start? :) 

 This topic leaves me wondering what part of me seeks it out.  I mean, it all can't come tumbling into my life without me attracting it can it?  I'm like a lint trap for complications and extra baggage.  Emotional upheavals are a daily part of my life.  It seems like by the time I slip into a hot bubble bath at night, I'm both wired and exhausted.  My head is FuLL of stories all woven together with uneven stitches.   Though I'm learning to let go of the complications of others lives that is the core of my career in counselling, I also recognize that my automatic "go to" place in my actions is one of the "fix it fairy."  

YES, I am one of those...... However, I have discovered I am not alone.  There are many in my life who have used their gifts to help me fix stuff in my life this year too.  Thank God.

Most of the time, there isn't a damn thing I can do about an issue that creates the drama.  Some of the time I can because not only am I a fix it kind of fairy, I also seem to stir the pot..... sometimes by just asking a few questions, or offering to help when I honestly don't have the resources or the time.  Then, stuff in my daily life.... the stuff I SHOULD be attending to piles up and ignored.  Hmmm..... could it be that I "get my nose into things" as a means of procrastinating.  Well, yes.  

Maybe that's not a bad thing.  

Maybe there is a shiny silver lining to the incessant moments when life gets interupted.  hmmmmm............. maybe, just maybe the shake up of having to turn your focus on something else, someone else.......... an issue or a problem that needs attention promptly is when we are forced to put our guard down and just be human who is challenged, confused, pushed to the limits of what we think we can handle.   The free flow of activity, discussions, interactions, problem solving are so life enhancing.  In fact, it leads one more often to a place of vulnerability.  It surely can humble you, which in turn broadens AND deepens our  range of emotional capacity.  

Interuptions can be considered as gifts.  Perhaps they should even be viewed as the portal to feeling God's lovetouch of Grace? 

A big honking snowstorm, with all of its travails stops the world around you, and forces you to deal with the ramifications of it as well as the silence only felt when one is away from the daily busyness. 

Someone calling out for help....?  To be with them.... not sorting it out, but just to be with them opens the door to sharing something monumentally moving.  Your drama is my drama..... your life interuptions is mine. 

Taking a risk, stepping beyond the borders of your lifebox almost always provides interuptions in our daily lives due to its unknown qualities.  Add something to the mix of your day, and the journey alters.  There is a feeling of awakening boosted by nervous adrenaline when you tackle something new.  It's bound to provide a few new stories and a dollop of drama. 

Oh yeah........ the desire to run away to a warm locale with white sand and blue surf almost always kicks in because of the overwhelming jolt while trying to juggle a few extra balls. Fears drum up from your gut..... as you wonder if you're in over your head....... or if you can handle it all emotionally.   Who doesn't want to run and hide at least once a day?  We are survivors though.... and emotions are simply visitors who bring messages.  They leave opportunities for new reflections. Reflections leave pockets of inner strength and fresh resilience.  Emotions cleanse ........  like an awareness sauna where naked vulnerability takes its cue from surrendering. 

What about the interuptions where you find yourself surrounded in quiet?  Like a prayer-fully moving church service?  Like a day at the beach where time spreads wide open into eternity?  Like the silence found in comforting another when their day has reached a peak of no return?   Like an escape into the woods on snowshoes? Like an impromptu gathering around a campfire to share stories, to catch up, to help ease one another's chaotic workweek?   If we didn't pursue drama and interuptions in the grind we wrongfully define as a successful life, would we EVER feel that intimate sense of mysticism in the ordinary? 

Too much drama tips you over.  Too many interuptions trip you up.  Frankly there are days when I have two left feet and my thinking is blurred by it all.  I play a huge role in attracting it to my life.  This awareness is good.  However, I don't have a clue how one stops being the lint trap for it.  Or the desire to. The positive attributes have enhanced life for me in ways that are immeasurable, leaving me feeling a sense of whole heartedness.  

Hmmmm.... Think I'll organize a party.  A foolish party for April Fool's day.  Now, that may be fun! 

Taking a breath ...... inhaling sweet peace ..... let the day begin.

May you embrace life's interuptions as soon as you open the door to them.

You just never know......

 

The Year I Turned 50-Licious

Yesterday morning, I arrived at the diagnostic imaging department at the local hospital for an annual mammogram, grabbed a number and sat down. Routine.  No big whoop. Just one of those important tasks to accomplish in the day in the life....  

This is what I was thinking as I looked around at the other folks who were there for various x-rays, ultrasounds and boob looksees.  In  no time my number was called and I found myself sitting in front of the clerk as she verified my medicare number and home address in her computer, and made sure my name was on the list.  It was her last question that sent a sharp kick into my gut...... "And your next of kin is still............?"  I said "yes." 

Well, he still is legally and I sure as heck didn't want to complicate the intake interview while trying to figure out who my next of kin is now.  My kids aren't old enough.  My family live in another province.  Neither option was practical. So, I kept it simple.  "Yes."  The question and my answer flooded my thinking and feelings as I found myself sitting in a flimsy johnny shirt coldly wrapped around my naked torso,  by the door to where the machinery was located.  Alone. Processing my thoughts.  In a place full of foreign sounds, sickness and stress, ongoing paging for emergency doctors, and smells one only inhales in the stark reality of a hospital,  I felt the gut galloping shiver of vulnerability.  My stark reality mirrored my environment.  

I leaned back against the wall, closed my eyes and focused on breaths to take away the "reality hurt"  until a warm hearted woman with a welcoming Maritime lilt in her voice called my name.  It was my turn to have a few photos taken. My morbidly self absorbed thoughts quickly turned into wondering how in the hell they do that boob squishing procedure on anyone who wears an A or a B cup???? 

This is the year I turned 50.  From the moment after the clock struck midnight to ring it in when I stood feeling like a pariah beside my husband at a party and there was no loving kiss forthcoming to this very moment as I try to capture the words flying out of my fingertips on this frosty morning.......... the last one of 2010, it has been a year of awakening to loud thunderous change.  

Sometimes it has been so shockingly vibrant like when you get to the part in a mystery novel and all the pieces of the puzzle transform into BIG TRUTHS all at once.  Oh!  I can think of a few of those body churning events!  Though I'm trying to let go of them, they are still the ones that pound on my temples at 4 am with demonic pleasure from time to time.  Not nearly so often.  Not nearly so often.   

Most of the time, however, the thunderous change has been more like the WAKE UP surprise of POP Rocks sizzle bursting in your mouth. You know its going to happen.  You just don't know when. When it does? Your eyes open a little wider, while your first thought is........ "What is that all about???"  And,  "Why did I just put Pop Rocks in my mouth when I know how uncomfortable they make me feel?"  Sometimes someone slips a few of those candies into your tea when you're not looking.  There you are attending to a routine task and kapow! One of those damn things explode and you're caught speechless........for a second.  

"Your next of kin still is..........?"

This is life. It is a cache of awakening moments, some more seismic than others.  Some more life altering than others.  Mine aren't any different than anyone elses.  My feelings and thoughts are not unique.  It is what WE all share......... the ability to think and the blessing to FEEL always!  From the monumental hurts to the ecstatic orgasms, and all the little poetic symphonies that are the very thread that binds the whomping biggies together.  By sharing our hearts and minds, not only do we learn  important lessons from one another that guide us to LOOKING and FEELING from a different perspective....a different reality, we become a part of one another's tapestry. 

This is an awakened life unfolding.  I am who I am because of the experiences I have encountered, embraced, denied, refused, stumbled upon, viewed, processed, created, mourned, celebrated,  respected, rejected and reconciled.  Just like you.   We are offered up little Pop rock morsels.....events that seem inconsequential at first,  but end up providing awareness to where we are in our journeys as a means to process the thunder changes. Shifts happen even when you're least expecting it.  In the poetry of life.  

Yesterday, I texted a friend of mine briefly sharing the hospital moment with her.  She understood how it felt right away, and commented on how these moments makes one realize how the world registers you and how you see it differently too.   In fact, she is the one who has helped me throughout the year "see" how poignancy preys in the grace notes of life....  I told her that I realized it is the poetry of life, not the long storied prose that meaning is found.  Her response?  "What's a poem if not volumes of truth packed into a single glance?"  Blow me away!  Gotta love a friend whom you share wisdom text messages with that are poetry too! 

This year, the one when I turned 50?  Well, it has been jam packed full of events...... poignant, pathetic, pulsating..... life altering snippets.  I'm not at a point where I can say that I wouldn't change it if I could do it again.  That would be silly.  No one in their right mind wants to ever experience the deep gashes from being betrayed.  However, I have laughed with more gusto, and wept with more intensity than I have ever imagined.  I have been hugged more passionately, and cared for beyond what I ever thought I needed. Conversations that once skimmed the surfaces dove deep into heartfelt meaning.  Until this year, I didn't realize just how much we can grow from an original place of pain into a garden of beauty.  I have taken many risks, and every time I think of one I smile broadly because every single risk I took connected me to another beautiful human being and experienced some amazing adventures!  WOW!  

As well, I have inhaled air so beautifully thin as I have encountered a bouquet of spiritual compassion through the kindness of so many people in my life, and through the deeply quiet times I have been alone absorbing the goodness of a faith just waiting for me to embrace. Magical.  Blessed.  Loved.  Lovable.  Gee, I even learned that I am a bit sexy! Who knew?????  Yeah, despite the pliable sagging breasts and the hands that look a thousand years old, I've got a sexy factor happenin'!

I have learned so much..... and hope that I have been able to pass on some of my lessons........  

On this day, the last one of the year I turned 50-licious?  I feel strong and whole, weak as well as yearning. A contradiction I am, I am.   I see the poetry as truth in a single glance.  And I know now how I will answer the question of who my next of kin is........  It doesn't matter who the name is.  I walk with many.  I walk with you.   With a Holy Spirit to guide us along.  Aren't we lucky?

Bring on the Pop rocks!  Happy New Year. 

________________________________________

ps.  I have been keeping an eye on and a journal to capture many of these moments that have occured this year with the intention of pulling them together in a book......... I havent shared many of them on my blog because I haven't had a chance to digest them as much as I want to. Plus, I feel like when it is time to write it out fully, i want it to be fresh.  But, let me tell you, the majority of them are bloody hilarious! Absurdity rules, as does my dark humour.  Stay tuned!!!

Empathy turns Love into a verb.

For mercy has a human heart

Pity a human face

And love, the human form divine.

William Blake.

We strive to be authentic in our way of knowing, hoping it leads to a primordial fluttering of grace.

If.......

We reach out our hand to hold,

We step forward with our eyes open,

We understand with our open heart to understand.
Our capacity to love grows from seeds.
Sometimes when sorrow pounds on temples of loneliness, when fear rips open soiled hearts, when anger spits at crippled feet overused seeking solace, it takes one unleashed tiny beam of empathy to lighten big burdens. Empathy is the light shining beauty on purple welts.
Out of love grows compassion.
Out of compassion comes our ability to feel for others.

Empathy happens when your hearthreads reach out and wrap around someone else's hurt because you're curious to know what it's like to be them. It our best way of looking through someone else's lens.  Empathy is made from a merciful heart, a soft knowing smile, and the unconditional love of a curious human being.

_______________________________

A young boy on the verge of adolescence asks....... What does it feel like when someone wraps you up in their heartthreads?

You answer: 

Like 

a warm comforting cup of tea
a soft affirmation, like you matter
an engaging smile that pierces your heart
sharing tears
a nod of knowing 

eye contact that tells you they get it.
Its like having someone take the shawl from their shoulders to wrap you up in it like a cocoon. You can feel their heat, and smell their perfume.

Yes, but what do those things FEEL like? How does empathy make you feel?

Loved. Empathy makes you feel loved.

But how does love feel?

Like a a goodnight kiss when I tuck you in.

Like the feeling you have when you are surrounded by your best friends.

Like the joy of a free fall on a day when the sky is a September blue......into the arms of God.

oh. I always thought it felt like having a sleeping puppy on your lap.

you got it.........

ps.  Let your heartthreads wrap around someone in need today.  AND, let someone wrap theirs around YOU.   :)

a night of good energy.....

Sometimes, just sometimes you stumble across a beautiful soul you can relate to that you'd like to spend a few more moments with.  May there be a shooting star beyond the late night  clouds to catch my wish as it propels into the galaxy.  May the energy shared linger on into another day.  

breath of kindness

Yesterday I was asked how my previous week had gone. My impulsive response was all negative. I had gone to Prince Edward Island on my own to attend a conference which turned out to be very difficult emotionally.  I was away from family and friends.... away from the supportive people in my life who have been helping me retain my footing and allowing me to lean on them when I've needed to.    

It left me flooded and flailing, unable to sleep. Surrounded by hundreds of people I didn't know, I was lost.  The initial shock I have been living under, which for the most part has jolted me with adrenaline and a protective shield around my confidence had completely disappeared.  Instead, I was raw.  Ironically, the conference was filled with Counsellors and Psychotherapists and I couldn't put my hand up and ask for help. 

Last night, when I was able to settle into a more peaceful silence beyond the busy trappings, I was able to recognize just how rich the week truly was. It encompassed way more than the trip to PEI.  What I have found is that the pace of the days are impossible to keep up with as far as being able to step outside of them and truly weigh all that is happening......... both on the inside and the outside.  Mostly the inside.  I haven't been able to lift above the smoke like you would do when you're not dealing with critical changes to do as the George Eliot quote suggests......

".....pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness blow the rest away.”

.....this is holistically so important isn't it?  Especially now.  I am learning how to do that.  Because, what may seem so emotionally catastrophic while in the midst of it gains rationality when you can step away from the event/moment to recognize the size of it in comparison to the bigger more important things living life offers. 

Once I was able to reflect quietly last night, the innumerable moments which I had allowed to be overshadowed began to lift into sight.  Their lovelights caught my eye and they took precedence over the more wretched moments.  I took the time to see just how blessed I am. The caring loving people in my life, particularly the ones I connected with this week, either face to face over deep conversations, or through email, phone calls are a bouquet of love. 

Of all the gifts I have been provided through the course of this personal experience, the gift of love and compassion from others is so abundantly beautiful.  I couldn't even count how many amazing conversations and connections I have made in the course of these two months.  And they continue...... sharing, revealing, deeply emotional on both sides of the conversations....... it gives me energy.  it feeds my emptiness.  it allows me to do the same for the other person too. 

I'm learning at a deeper level that once you can reach a point where two hearts open up to honest feelings, the eloquence of spiritual kinship glistens like a beautiful bow on the gift.  Dreams, fears, confessions, secrets, hopes, sadness, doubt, ideas, previous learning, tears and joy are all revealed by the stories we have shared.  It puts a very different face on how I had described my week.  

Quickly it altered into a collage of loving faces.......some who live nearby, some who live in other provinces and countries,  and some whom I've never even physically met before but have become close to through my writing.  Beautifully shaped, all shades......... caring eyes.  Lovelights of kindness and concern.... of joy and compassion.

Keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness......... blow the rest away.   When we can sit in the quiet safety, our ability to dwell in kindness..... for self and others........ resonates from within.  Last night, I sought out where I live best, cradled by God's Hands, and with His support, blew away the chaff from the wheat with a heart glowing in kindness again. 

Last week brought heartache and loneliness.  It wrenched memories right out into the open and made me feel raw.  I was forced to recognize that the family vacations we have enjoyed so much in the past are now forever altered..... that friendships we have as a family with other families are now in flux.  I fell into a pit of memories..........good ones, but with a searing nostalgic sadness and I couldn't climb out of there on my own.  It will take time to accept these changes.  I will continue to grieve.  But, I am also learning how to step out of loathing and into gratitude. 

Last night...... certainly helped soften the edges, leaving me with a handful of sifted gifts.  All glistening gems.....

Gratitude offered me solace as well as inspiration to anticipate another week that hopefully will be like my beautiful Saint John river........ surprised by the joy of its meandering unfolding.  Bring it on.  My Dad arrives Wednesday. :)

summoning up an honest reflection.

Whatever happens to me in life, I try to hold onto the belief that despite the messy complications and uncomfortable madness littering the way, there is potential for sacred lessons to settle my soul.  All it takes is summoning up  the courage to take that first step, right?  

Sometimes I think I miss the lessons because I'm looking the other way, or I've detached from all that is happening around me.  It's not that I don't care.  It's more because I'm not ready, or I don't feel like I can handle coming face to face with the lessons.  Like every single human being, it comes down to protecting myself from harsh realities, exacerbated by a stubborn refusal to take any responsibility for the messes.

It's not my fault.  I didn't do anything wrong......... Don't blame me. Wow, we're quick to pass the buck aren't we??

New learning means change.  Sometimes change is not a welcome visitor because it has the capacity to hurt deeply.  Sometimes change is downright frightening.  It can foist me into unknown territory without the armour used to protect myself from owning up to what I have added to the messy complications. What cements my feet in hazy hesitation is the fear that I won't be accepted after I have apologized. I mean, what happens when I ask for forgiveness, but it isn't received?  What then?  Just the thought of it makes me feel bare.

I've been revisiting the Parable of the Prodigal Son.  The part in the story when the youngest son has hit rock bottom after losing all of his inheritance and belongings through selfish acts is where I'm stumbling. It irritates me.  I don't quite believe how smoothly it is all resolved.  The story is so short that it just doesn't feel like he's suffered enough.  Or maybe I'm just a masochist at heart.  

It seems like all of a sudden, after wallowing in his mistakes for a wee bit of time he thinks........... "ah, if I just go home and apologize..... own up to my fuck ups and all will be forgiven...."  It just seems too swift, too easy and kind of manipulative.  I mean, did he REALLY feel responsible thereby guilty enough for how much he had messed up??  He had hurt others so deeply by mistreating their generosity. He abandoned them and went off to live detached from the ones who matter, from the ones who love him the most.  Yet, in one swooping embrace with his father, who is grateful to have his son home alive and well, the Prodigal Son admits that he has sinned and states that he is not good enough to be his father's son.  Poof!  He is forgiven and life goes on. 

It seems to me that true forgiveness isn't that easy.  Giving it or receiving it.  However there is no way to weigh it or measure it to ensure its the right amount.  Mercy is a feeling, not a substance.  Or maybe it is.  Maybe it is a substance that has to fully fill one's heart before it feels legitimate.  A half-hearted apology spoken in harsh bursts sits like a lump in the pit of the stomach.  The kind of apology that is thrown out in words so light they float away in a soap bubble is so fleeting that it gets lost in the continuous messy complications and leaves a residue of questions. But when one asks for forgiveness in a timbre of honest vulnerability and is received by the same kind of openness, something melts.  Something transforms.  Maybe I just missed that layer of vulnerability woven into the story of the Prodigal Son.

The thing about parables is that they are springboard stories written in broad strokes, which leave room for discussion and ongoing contemplation. Their meaning as well as their impact alter in the mind of the reader because every time we revisit them, we are in a different place in our lives.  What jumps out at me today is different than what jumped out at me the last time I read it.  I have a new lens....... the angle is different.

Today, as I stand upon a crossroad littered with messy complications and uncomfortable madness, I realize that the part of the story I have the most difficulty with is also based on the character I can relate to the most.  And if I don't believe the Prodigal Son.... then perhaps I need to revisit my own believability.  It's a strange paradoxical feeling because right down to my toes, I believe I would absolutely forgive the people in my life whom I love unconditionally.  It feels like such a no brainer.  Of course I would forgive them! Wouldn't I? 

Then again, maybe they wouldn't believe me..... maybe I'm not as authentically believable as I think I am.  Maybe my actions don't appear to be redemptive to them.  Maybe my acceptance words don't hold the same substance as my non verbal actions..... my messages are mixed.  I need to look at whether or not I do have a full heart of forgiveness to offer. And maybe, just maybe I need to forgive myself first........ to empty my own heart by asking God to love me, the screw up that I am.    Can you forgive others if you don't know how to forgive yourself?

It should be so simple.  It never is.  We constantly run away from resolution, from owning up to our role in creating the messes.  Why?  Could it be that if we do, change will inevitably occur.  And it may just rock our worlds in ways we may not be prepared for.  Then again, doesn't transformative change hold the potential for sacred lessons to settle one's soul?  And isn't that we are constantly striving for..... to feel that sense of HOME?   

When forgiveness matters the most, when you are stripped down to your sparse broken self and the only thing you desire is to be loved, asking for it becomes as real as it ever can be.  Whether it fills the heart of another and takes them to a place of pure acceptance is beyond your control.  This is what is so damn frightening.  However, you'll never know unless you take the risk. Perhaps its best to start by slipping out of that Self encasement and having a real honest naked chat with God. 

I wonder if the Prodigal Son felt his strongly stirred desire for home settle in his soul when he fell into the warm embrace of his Father?  The parable doesn't tell us that.......... we have to look beyond the story and hope that he did....that THEY both did.

the hills are alive.........

river valley hill, view from the end of my street

One of the most important pieces of advice I was offered was to "pick the hills you fight over."  In other words, assess, reassess, step back to observe the issue from a different perspective, and try to foresee the benefits and dangers of your actions.  It's all about risk assessment and management.  The worst thing one can do is to blindly react from full feelings.  It only gets messy.  The key is to avoid the emotional bursting of the seams by lowering the blood pressure so you can think straight! That way, you have a much clearer picture of cause and effect...........

Ask yourself.....

Why is this important to me? 

Is this an issue that clashes with my heartheld values?

Is this worth my time, effort, energy? Why?  Why not?

If I don't fight for this hill, will there be long term reverberations that may impact future challenges?

Who does it impact if I don't take it on? 

Who does it impact if I do take it on?

If all of my actions are my best attempt at fulfilling one of 5 needs, Survival, Love and Belonging, Empowerment/Control, Freedom, Fun.......... which one is driving me? 

Its important to try to see it from the other side too?  What "need" is the person whom I am in conflict with trying to fulfill? Why do they want this particular hill?  Why is it important to them?

Sometimes, just by taking the time to consider whether it really is a hill you want to fight over or not, you may find a sense of resolution.  Other times, you hone your intent so you can tackle the issue with a more solid gameplan.  Though it doesn't guarantee success if you do decide to take on the battle, it does fill you with more conviction and confidence to take the risk.  

My terrain is hilly at the moment. Oh, who am I kidding?  My terrain is always frigging hilly. Whose isn't?  But honestly a few of the mounds ahead of me seemed to have erupted out of nowhere.  Sniper hills! Those types are probably the ones that are the most challenging and need to be surveyed the most intensely, when in fact I'd personally just like to stick a piece of dynamite in the turf and blow them right out of the way.  Instead, I'll be good and take my own advice............ to chill at the bottom of the hill a bit longer and figure out the most productive tactic. 

Got any hills worth fighting over in your life these days??

roots

If our roots aren't dipped in empathy, how does one acquire it?  If we have only experienced insufferable emotional blows as we grow from our roots, and never have had the experience of empathy immersion, how do we know what it feels like to be bathed in compassion?  If our soul has been pummeled by angry fists and hoofed by steel-toed boots, how do we learn to love ourselves?

We only learn survival behaviour.  Nasty retorts, cowering fear, rage fueled outbursts, or complete emotional shut down numbness..... all for self protection.  No win-win here.  Just a series of serious stumbling over bad decisions, poor choices, ineffective means of connecting.   Still there is a deep hunger to be loved.

Lose-Lose equals  Lonely-Lonely

There's a spiraling effect, which turns into a self fulfilling prophecy.  Believe you're unloved, you will act like you're unloved.  Believe you deserve to be treated poorly, you will act like you don't give a damn about yourself or others.  Sometimes, if you believe you're owed a better life because of all that you've endured, you demand it in a way that stomps on others.  Entitlement overkill.  This perpetual unlovely behaviour squeezes any semblance of empathy right out of touch. It distorts clear minded thinking.  It spoils the sweet aroma of sensitivity and compassion.  It twists logic until it chokes on bile.

If there is a continuous taste of bile and a stomach churning up angry acid, how can you feel empathy?  You can't.  The pain is too red raw........... there is no lining left..... no protective tissues to console.

Is there any way to feed those  roots....the same ones that have been neglected since childhood? Sometimes, it's impossible.  Damage is so deeply embedded that it seems to chemically alter the brain somehow.  Though I am no scientist, I have met my fair share of people who are either born with the inability to feel empathy for others, or whose reslience has been worn down, forced by a life of abuse.  The capacity to dig into the soulpocket where empathy dwells just isn't there. Maybe the learning issue is more than making a choice to look through the eyes of another.  Maybe there is a physical manifestation of psychological damage?  Maybe the roots are dangerously tainted by psychopathology.

Sometimes it IS possible to help someone by feeding their roots.  How?

By choosing to love the unlovely.  

By allowing them to listen to the stories of the people they may have negatively impacted.

By allowing them to tell their story.

By encouraging and encouraging their willingness to change.... to reform, transform, stand on a new platform....... 

By accepting vulnerability as a state of mind worthy of our trust in learning and growth.

By mentoring through actions and guiding....... role modellng the softening melt that happens when forgiveness is the goal.

By recognizing that every single human being is made from the same fabric, the same ingredients.

By wrapping our faith around the belief that we are all players within the Body of Christ. 

It's a lot of work........a lot of effort.  Our natural inclination is to stay within our own belief system... our own way of seeing the world and how it impacts us.  If only we can step out and look through a different lens.  

It's a Grace of God go I thing.........even if you believe there is no hope in empathy transformation. 

ps.... this theory is in the process of being tested.........and continues this week.  

the pows and the wows.....

My days are filled with numerous moments, crackling with emotional intensity. Highs and lows, peaks and valleys...... deep soul interactions sprinkled in the grace of poetic lives.

At the beginning of the school year, I visited every classroom and introduced myself. I told them why I was there..... to listen to their stories, to help them find balance, to encourage and to support them as they focused on their studies. I shared a little of me .......... who I was, where I came from, what I could offer, and most importantly how glad I was to be there because it felt like home to me.

Come tell me your POWS and your WOWS stories, I said. And they have, in a steady stream of unrepressed confessions. Beautiful.

Mostly, I listen to their POWS........the ones that make them keel off to the side like a listing boat taking on water. There's an urgency in the voice, a red flushing of the skin, a wringing of hands, anxious movement. Tears held in for too long cascade.... sometimes attached to relief, sometimes accompanied by embarrassment. Sometimes their tears bring mine close to the surface when the stories pluck certain chords. In those time captured slices of life, there is a sense of intimacy only felt when the depth of the connection swallows you into its gulp.

My days are filled with numerous moments, bubbling to the surface like uncorked champagne. Effervescently complicated ruminations steeped in relationships soured by abuse, addictions, arresting apathy, broken down communication pour out into cups too small to hold the drink. Life champagne overflows too quickly to take sips.

Sometimes, the WOWs walk in..... to celebrate a popping cork accomplishment, an achievement, a decision..... a resolution. We toast the highs and the lows, knowing they often go hand in hand, knowing that crisis is the catharsis for much needed changes. We deserve the champagne. It's hard work being human. It's hard work recognizing the dented imperfections in our body armor.

ah..........but I sit in peace. tonight ......... is peace, and a little breathing space .... to reflect while inhaling deeply. I haven't had much of that, and I can feel the need to. I have this urge to go find a pew.

I am in a good place. Front row seat. High intensity sound. Multi-sensory upheavals and newly found calms. I'm finding my way helping others find theirs too. I can't tell you how much that makes me smile.

I am in a good place. Face to face. Deep glowing hearts. Wide eyed interactions. Connections where kindness and kinship grow daily.

A good place........ to learn, to grow, to experience, to teach, to listen, to guide, to feel the discomfort gnawing in souls. It makes a difference.

My days are filled with numerous tenderhearted moments of meeting, greeting, and being there to catch the POWs however I can. I guess you could say that I'm helping people turn their POWS into WOWs. I feel blessed.

Soulspace part three..... a summoning to prayer

If you're interested and haven't read the story I've been writing about a place named Soulspace which overlooked the Greenbelt Festival site?

Part one is here

Part two is here.....

I happily post this piece on the 4th anniversary of starting this blog. WOOO HOOO!

___________________________________
Soulspace part three: A Summoning to Prayer.


"The heart is the place where beauty arrives; here is where it can be felt, recognized and shared. If there was no heart, beauty could never reach us. Through the heart, beauty can pervade every cell of the body and fill us. To use a word that feels like it sounds: this is the thrill of beauty through us. Perhaps this is why we sometimes feel the absence of beauty in our lives; we have allowed the prism to become dull and darkened; though the light is near, it cannot enter to have its inlay of beauty diffused. Sometimes absence is merely arrested appearance. Compassion and attention keep the prism clear so that beauty may illuminate our life. Prayer of course is the supreme way we lift our limited selves towards the light, and ask it to shine into us. "
John O'Donohue,
Beauty, The Invisible Embrace.

Little by little, the books and articles I have been reading and the interviews I have listened to about faith, spirituality, and human behaviour over the past four years are being synthesized. Changes in my perspective on how I want to live my life have profoundly impacted the way I see outwardly and the manner with which I explore inwardly. Writing on concepts and ideas triggered by what I've read has helped this process considerably. Discussing them with people in my life, especially my husband whose knowledge of religion and history and his personal religious beliefs far exceeds my own, has helped me digest it beyond simple comprehension and has helped my confidence grow ... a confidence that propels me to seek out more, to step into new, to question it fully, to feed my excitement about walking into the wild where answers are open for interpretation.

Instead of having doubt stop me from exploring, it is now just a component of healthy perambulations into the world of believing in God. Doubt is needed, just as much as certainty, just as much as infinite curiosity.
Of the authors who have touched my ever hungry heart and head, John O'Donohue has been my chosen guide. His intricately woven poetic prose with all its layered meaning quenches, refreshes, surprises, acknowledges, teaches, affirms, blesses. Throughout my 4 days of attending the Greenbelt Festival, I truly felt his presence and I thought long and hard about the lessons I had learned from him. It both saddened me knowing I would have to wait to meet him beyond this world and made me smile knowing how profoundly he had emotionally and spiritually moved many people who were attending the same festival. In fact it was because of two very special people in my life whom I met through blogging who also encouraged me over the past two and a half years to join them at Greenbelt to drink all that it can offer, that I even learned about John O'Donohue in the first place. (I'm smiling now just thinking about them. I always smile thinking about them. Beautiful human beings they are, they are. :) )

Soulspace seemed perfectly constructed to deeply feel this Irishman's gifts. Perhaps this is why I was struck so quickly with a burst of emotions when I first entered the room set aside for contemplative quiet time. When I opened the door and stepped into Soulspace, the reason behind my "need" to attend Greenbelt flooded me extraordinarily. When I stood at the window and looked out at the tents, the people, the movement and the green rolling hills in the background, I was floored by its beauty, by a sense of the miraculous, by a feeling that Father O would've loved this Soulspace. His words filled me..... his descriptions I had read over and over (always deepening my own understanding of what Beauty is) were within reach. The possibility of "lifting my own limited self "was there at my fingertips.... all in the wanting.

Other guides who have reawakened me were there too in my thoughts. When I found myself sitting down to rest in that place called Soulspace, unsure of what to do next, I was pleasantly surprised that the words I had read on prayer written by Father Anthony de Mello spoke to me. It was de Mello's book Awareness which kickstarted this part of my journey in the first place, and gave this blog it's name and theme. He woke me up with his irreverent reverence. I've always thought O'Donohue and de Mello would've enjoyed each other's company. Their passion, their intelligence, and their desire to poke and prod, to interact with God with infinite curiosity and a confidence to be themselves seemed similar in many ways. Sadly, they both died suddenly and way too soon for those of us here on earth. Perhaps they have crossed paths in Heaven, eh? I'd like to think so......

Ok, where was I.....? Father de Mello had simplified prayer and de-mystified the process for me by suggesting that prayer was stillness and meditation. It was about learning to breathe calmly. It was about listening to everything around you, allowing it to blend into your own thoughts. It was about allowing your thoughts to come and go while you learned to think with your heart. Praying wasn't always about reciting rote words. It didn't have to happen sitting with your head bowed in a pew. Hands don't have to be clasped. Heads can be bowed or not. It could happen anywhere, and would be just as powerful if you take the time to stop, be still and breathe. In and out. In and out. In and out.

I followed his direction and did exactly that. I let my body find its natural resting place. Given how much it needed rest, it was easy to comply.... so much easier than in past attempts. When your body is unable to keep up the defensive shield....the mask, when you simply cannot help but feel vulnerable, the prism of self leaves openings for the light to get in. "There are cracks in everything, " Leonard Cohen sings..... "that's how the light gets in."

My eyes closed, my body slackened. I held the little heart shaped sandstone I had chosen before I entered Soulspace in my left hand and felt its presence. For some reason that stone held within its rough make up a connection to purpose. Somehow the little chosen touchstone represented me and all of my complications. As much as I was entering into a relaxed zone I had never gone emotionally, spiritually, physically, the stone reminded me of me. It lay in my hand, scratching my consciousness. I couldn't help but lose my focus on the summoning to prayer because of its scratchiness.

Another piece of absorbed learning however soon altered the path of my thinking, away from feeling that the sandstone would interfere with any attempt at prayer. I was rescued by Frederick Buechner, an American clergyman, whose thoughts and words on this subject have continued to reach me like finding a brightly coloured welcome mat in front of an open door to a place I want to enter and become familiar with. His thought-full and believable description of what a prayer is also filtered into my thoughts as I sat growing more and more comfortable in my own "soulspace." He wrote:

"Everybody prays whether [you think] of it as praying or not. The odd silence you fall into when something very beautiful is happening or something very good or very bad. The ah-h-h-h! that sometimes floats up out of you as out of a Fourth of July crowd when the sky-rocket bursts over the water. The stammer of pain at somebody else's pain. The stammer of joy at somebody else's joy. Whatever words or sounds you use for sighing with over your own life. These are all prayers in their own way. These are all spoken not just to yourself but to something even more familiar than yourself and even more strange than the world."

I smiled to myself while revisiting this passage now internalized as a permission slip to go on with life knowing I was someone who prayed and that prayer was LIVING life emotionally and expressively. Prayer is a good thing and not a foreign mystery others employed on Sunday mornings in little white churches. It is not something to be in awe of, or to be afraid of. It is not something to be dismissed as a crazy ritual separated from the rest of living and doing. We don't have to behave like worshipping lemmings to receive its holy medicine. All we need to do is to be open to being awake and responsive to the world around us. All we need to do is open the door to our own heart.... aha.... aha ....

in and out
in and out
in and out
the door creaked opened
my shoulders and neck offered up its tension......
I entered into a thin air space
light, airy, refreshed with oxygenated insight
It happened ...... as naturally as inhaling air.....

I began to hear a choir softly singing a repetitive hymn. The alluring somewhat familiar sound seemed to come from the floor in front of me like a soothing spa I could fall into. A repetitive beat of drumming moved in to accompany the choir. At times the two forms of music seemed separate, like i was hearing it from different ears and at other times, it had blended into one like a flowing harmony.......quiet, soft, inviting me to enter into it. Strangely, I hadn't heard the music until I had silenced the noise inside me.

I thought of Father de Mello's advice........to be open to the sounds around you and to allow them to merge in with your breathing. For once, it seemed like a natural process. As my breathing became softer like I was falling asleep, my whole body stooped forward, my head tilted down. Currents of worries and tension, of stressful adrenaline and fatigue stopped circling inside me. The constrictions swimming through me which had caused my energy to feel depleted loosened its grip and I could literally feel the baggage I had been carrying around (some of it for a very long time) started to drop off me through my hands. The river water dropped out of my fingertips......

I pictured this letting go process as water coming from little tributaries flowing into a larger river of its own unfolding. The choir continued. The drumming accompanied. I was beginning to sit in the oneness of the sound on a raft going down a lazy river flow. In and out In and out In and out....
Unwelcome noises startled me a couple of times as I tried to stay on the raft. A little boy who was standing at the window overlooking the glorious vista down below and outward began asking his father questions in a loud voice. At first I was irritated. It felt like an invasion and I could sense my thoughts were being pulled into my irritation. Determined not to lose "the moment," I tried to block the noise. I tried to ignore it. When that didn't work I was reminded again of Father de Mello's suggestion and changed my thinking. Within seconds, I began to hear the little boy's voice as innocence and not as an irritant. Soon, his inquisitiveness filtered in, blending into hymnal choir. His voice became part of the drumming.

It was amazing! Once I realized how easy it was to fold the soul scratchy noises into my meditation, I was able to continue doing so. I had started with a feeling that I was being summoned to prayer, but some time during that experience, I had become empowered to do the summoning. The openness to it rather than the blocking of it had turned me into a relaxed compliant vessel.

Thoughts came to visit but only stayed for a short time and then moved on....down the river. Feelings came to visit but only stayed for a short time and then moved on.....down the river.....

in and out
in and out
in and out........
my breathing seemed lightly automatic and I stayed aware of it

Suddenly, my whole body quickened tight when I realized no one knew where I was. Not one important person in my life, both at home and at the festival knew where I was! Initially it left me fearfully vulnerable. I had lost touch. I was all alone. There was no where to hide. No one was coming to my rescue if I needed them to. I wasn't in a place either where I could be reached if they needed me. Isn't this how I had always defined myself? Isn't this the sustenance which fed my ego..... this sense of always being needed?? Surely someone must be looking for me. Someone must need me I thought. A strong pull to put a halt to this personal prayer moment gripped me.

Again, de Mello's advice soothed me..... let go of the thinking.... there is no urgency needing my attention and more importantly, let go of my ego... my sense of importance for once and just be. It helped to know that the two women I connected with at a talk on Empathy in a tent called Hebron earlier, who originally told me about Soulspace.... the same two women who serendiptously greeted me at the entrance to this sacred room just minutes before were most likely sitting where I had found them. They knew I was in here. They had embraced me like a sister and pointed me in the right direction.

I softened..... returning back to the sound of the choir, the beat of the drumming..... My learning was there too, visited by guides who had taught me through their own words, their own learning. God was there too. No, I didn't hear Him. No, I didn't see Him. I just knew because as quickly as my ego anxieties were alert, they left me floating on the raft. Safe.

work, life conflicts, uncertainties, tangled love, chaotic mishaps, self doubts..... toxic thoughts and complicated feelings which clog the tributaries of souls including my own began to loosen. Stillness arrived.......stillness like I have never felt before found me. Time slipped away from me. As I sat within the otherworld's timelessness, I seemed to find myself outside of the blur of everyday life. It lost meaning and my experience in the blended integration I felt meditating illuminated the boundaries around me. I no longer heard the noises, or felt the movement of others. The sound of the choir and the drumming wove in and out of my awareness. I found a comfort I had never touched upon before.

In the midst of this stillness, the slow shallow in and out of air, I was tapped with a realization that I had somehow opened my left hand, allowing the rough heartshaped sandstone drop to the floor. Given how symbolic it had become, this disturbed me enough to open my eyes. I looked down at my hand and saw that it was still closed and yet I couldn't feel the stone scratching the palm of my hand. It was the strangest feeling. I opened my hand to find it still there, and this realization that the feeling of the stone had also blended into me. It was all that I needed to travel beyond the threshold of visibility.

Don't ask me how long I sat there after that. I have no idea. Don't ask me what I thought, or how I felt. I don't know. It didn't matter. As much as my senses were clearly in tune, they had turned inward and became a guide to visiting my own holy soulspace.

in and out
shallow light breathing
in and out
beyond awareness
beyond loneliness
beyond difficult complications.
I stayed there in a bubble of timelessness.
My senses thrilled by the radiant opening of beauty.

Eventually, a new breath rhythm caught in my throat, which triggered me to open my eyes. My first sense was one of refreshed restfulness. It was like I had slept for a four hours. I looked around and no one looked familiar. There was a man sitting beside me quietly praying. He was inches away from touching me and I had never felt his presence. The bright green sweater was so starkly illuminating, it almost startled me.... how could I have not felt his presence when he was sitting so close glowing in GREEN?

As much as I was refreshed, I was also a little discombobulated. I didn't know what to do next. I knew I didn't feel like entering into the crowds down below. I felt raw like I had been cleansed and scrubbed too much .... I was too shiny or something. After gathering my balance again, I walked towards the exit and saw a pile of stones carefully placed by the human beings who visited before me, creating a cairn. I knew I wanted to place my little piece of sandstone somewhere on it. So, I squatted down and looked over the growing sculpture. There was a much larger rock which had been broken in half and left halfway up standing like a precipice ledge. I placed my stone on the ledge ........... not at the bottom of the cairn, and not at the very top.... halfway up. Perfect for me.

I opened the exit door and stepped out a different atmosphere. The two women, my new friends had moved on. This saddened me because I wanted to thank them... to tell them how meaningful Soulspace had been for me too. I wanted to describe to them how it had "filled my boots..." I wanted to describe how alive and refreshed and alert I was feeling. I wanted to connect with two people who would intimately understand the transformational feelings I was stunned by. But they had moved on. It forced me to figure out what had just happened on my own. In retrospect, this was what needed to happen. As difficult as it seemed, my aloneness was an important component to how the day continued to unfold.

There was no one to share my experience with.... to talk it out so as to understand it more fully. I felt lonely but determined to find a bench out of the way of the flow of people to jot down my initial thoughts and feelings in my journal. It was important to try to capture this transformational experience.

What had been clearly evident as soon as I had opened my eyes is that much of what I had allowed to drop out of my fingertips cleared the way to making a few personal decisions. I had known for a long time I had let go of a few conflicts that I had allowed to hover for far too long. Some of what I had resolved surprised me completely. Given that I had no conscious plans or intentions to address these personal issues, they found me as I sat blended into the middle of the sound of the choir and the drumming.......

I walked away from Soulspace, quickly found a bench away from the crowded pathway and began scribbling like a crazy woman. Thoughts, feelings, phrases, names, little details that would come in handy where captured in a spreeeeeeee....... I filled two pages in a matter of minutes as I remained quiet and contained., unwilling to break open to the "real world." It was at that point when I heard my name out loud for the first time since early that morning. It pulled me right out of a deeply focused tunnel, from the same place where I go when I'm in the writing zone.

Hi Dana....
Someone who knew me......???

I looked up to see the smiling face of an angel named Alison whom I was just getting to know through the friends I had gone to Greenbelt to meet. I had driven to the Greenbelt site with her from the hotel that morning, which seemed like years before and I hadn't seen her since then. Her timing was impeccable, like she had arrived by the guiding Hand of God when I needed someone to ground me again.

From the outside I'm sure I appeared to be the same, though I did have my head down scribbling away on a bench in the middle of nowhere! She asked me how I was, how my day had gone. As soon as I tried to open my mouth, the rush of emotion flurried through me as I stunningly had a smiling meltdown trying to explain to her what I had just experienced. I'm sure I made her uncomfortable. I mean how does one handle the erupting emotions of a 40 something woman who has just experienced something personally profound? I burbled and stammered and tried my best to find the words to describe how beautiful it was to have experienced meditative prayer, but it was a stumbling attempt at something I knew I needed more time to churn through. Alison the angel did exactly what I needed. She gave me a hug. She sat with me until I pulled myself together. She let me spill out in all directions. Thank you beautiful Alison. Your unconditional kindness was a blessing.

We spoke for a short while, as I gathered myself up for the next event. I thanked her for being at the right place at the right time. We wished each other well knowing we would both be back at the hotel later that night sitting by the bar debriefing with the others. Off she went to capture the festival through the lens of her camera. Off I went to take in the much anticipated talk by Pete Rollins whom I had met informally the night before, who had left me intrigued! Turned out, he was another Irishman filled with magnetic brilliance that shone out of him in thought provoking irreverent reverence. But, that's another story I'll save for another post.

It's been four weeks since my visit to Soulspace and I'm still processing what happened and how it impacted me. Some were automatic changes. For example, the confidence I had lost while trying to cope while working in a toxic environment for so long finally returned. I no longer feel the residuals of that experience and I can see this clearly in the way I am approaching my job as a counsellor at the Community College and as an Instructor teaching an evening course at the University. I'm juggling both jobs right now along with another counselling gig and I'm completely in my element. The second guessing is gone. My wings are fully open, in flight.

I have reshuffled the focus on a few commitments in my life... some I've let go of, some I've recommited to. As well, for the past year I had a strong desire to pursue a new career with the vision of becoming a Minister. Strangely, this seemingly transformative experience which you'd think would've reinforced this move had the opposite effect. I realized I have no interest in working within the bureaucratic confines of any formal religion. I've had more than my share of clipped wing functioning. These decisions, recommitments, changes were revealed to me as soon as I "returned" from the meditation and opened my eyes. Who knew that was going to happen???? It's all a big whopping relief.

More than a couple of spooky moments followed the Soulspace experience. It's like serendipity has been placed on Speed! One after another, after another!! The latest one happened last night as I was in the middle of trying to find the words for this piece to describe the choir and the drumming sounds. A friend sent me a link to a Youtube video of some music he had described to me earlier in the day. Beautiful haunting music. I listened to it, enjoying the feelings it provoked in me, and the thoughts it generated. When I finished listening, I looked at the Youtube sidebar to see if there was another song I could listen to. and chose the top selection. All of a sudden, the music filled my room with familiarity. For, unbeknownst to my friend, he had indirectly sent me the choir song I had focused on while I sat in the room called Soulspace. All of a sudden, I was reunited with a piece of music that had moved me into the thinness of time where beauty illuminates..... where God dwells. SPOOKY!

Coincidences don't exist.....

I never again saw the two women I had originally met in a tent called Hebron at a talk on Empathy. In fact, I don't even remember their names. It was like we power touched one another, walked a few important steps together and then moved on. I may never see them again ... this is most likely but who knows? Wilder things have happened in this global village. But, the impact on this pilgrim astounds me still. I wish them well.......... and send out a cosmic kiss across the starry sky to wherever they live.

Soulspace..... it truly did lift my limited self toward a beautiful light and taught me how to breathe in a new and profound way.

ps..... here is the link to the beautiful music which I finally heard when I was able to silence the noise inside me....