Year of the Slug

Happy Easter

2011-04-29T09:01:00.001-07:00

Third Sunday in Lent

2011-03-27T12:24:00.001-07:00

That's Wyatt's model airplane up there. He came to spend the night on Friday and R and I took him to the park yesterday morning with one of those cardboard and plastic model airplanes that runs on a unraveling, wound up rubber band and a propeller with a high toss into the wind. We were over there for an hour together having a good, sweet time. It's nice to know that such simple ingredients are still more enticing than the DS or the toy story video.

Got a message from one of my former Academy covenant group members alerting the rest of us that Bob, the only man in our group - poor guy, had been unexpectedly transferred to Hospice yesterday after a tumor discovery last week.

I've been working on my personal narrative for graduate school and the Academy and Mercy Center figures largely in my growth and development story, not to mention my readiness and hunger for seminary. The Academy also came up in my leadership history presentation last week for my MIT class and now that I think about it, I found a picture of my covenant group last week and I had been thinking about how blessed I was to be in the company of my elders. People who were at 20 years ahead of me, if not 40 or more years ahead of me in this life.

Bob is a funny guy. I remember him telling jokes and laughing a lot. He is a retired second-career pastor and completely in love with his wife Mary who we heard a lot over those two years. We sat in a room together every night. The 8 of us would gather at the appointed time for 40 nights, sit in a circle, light a candle, and listen to one another or perform skits at the unstable at the end of the week. One memorable time we dressed up in trash bags as nuns and did a silent version of the hallelujah chorus with flash cards. Bob was Sister Mary Juana I think.

Thinking of you, Bob. And you too, Mary. His wife, Mary, came to our group for a little bit the last night and helped us make beaded bracelets. We each brought 8 of one kind of bead and passed them out to each other so we each have a matching bracelet made up of pieces of each of us. One of my favorite totems and sometimes I wear it when I'm preaching or leading a retreat.

Spirit of Comfort come quickly. My love goes to that bedside in Arizona. Thanks for keeping us informed Judy.

40 days and nights. Such a powerful number in our tradition.

So here we are the Third Sunday in Lent. So many people on my prayer card for sickness and vigil. Three friends have lost a parent already this year and another friend is keeping vigil. Several folks.

May there be peace and unexpected strength and surrounding in these desert times.

God of the journey,

who calls us to travel with faith,

who reminds us we are dust

yet breathes into us the breath of life,

hear my prayer:

Bearer of the Sun,

draw us into your heart of fire,

that we may have light to uncover

the unremembered stories

and strength to endure their telling.

Creator of the world,

awaken us to the blessedness of earth,

that I may honor these who once dwelled

along these paths that I now travel.

Spirit who hovered

over the face of the deep,

lead us to your life-giving waters,

that we may give our tears to the depths

and find refreshment and delight.

Helper who breathes life

into each new generation,

surround us, surround Bob and Mary, with the winds of your spirit,

and may we hear with tenderness

the stories that they bear.

-Jan L. Richardson

[pronouns modified]

Forget the framework

2011-03-24T16:19:00.000-07:00

Working on my autobiographical statement for SU's School of Theology and Ministry application today this came up and out -

Start with a purge

Start with Freedom

Forget the trellis,

the framework, the

boundaries, the programs,

the outlines, the musts,

the rules and requirements,

the questions

and SPILL over.

Pour everywhere.

out, down, across

and dripping. Leaving

stains on the table,

the floor. Exhaust

yourself. Empty.

Make room.

Step back

survey the landscape.

Then get

out the pruning shears and the gloves,

the mop and the broom.

-EPL

Reminders

2011-03-16T16:50:00.000-07:00

My mom and I were talking this week and she reminded me of something R. says that she's adopted. I'm pretty sure he picked this slogan/question somewhere - "Are you trading what you really want for what you can have now?"

Things have picked up on the job search front which is exciting and presents options where previously there was a lot of sending resumes and cover letters into the black hole of various human resource departments. I had a phone interview this morning! Relieved to know that several months after being laid off I can still speak coherently and sell the skills I've developed over the years. 3 part-time job openings on the horizon and 1 full time possibility. The jobs aren't mine for the taking, but people are talking to me and letting me know these openings are coming down the pike. One is particularly attractive, but would probably present a real road block along the school path. Attending and paying for school would be difficult. So as I was talking to my mom she reminded me of what R said that my mom latched on to, it's a good one. So I'm sitting with what do I really want and developing a strategy for keeping first things first.

And then my mom told me she's giving up purchasing things for Lent and she's committed to getting rid of 40 things.

Love that.

Peace.

Homemaking

2011-03-07T11:16:00.000-08:00

homemaking: the creation of a home, especially as a pleasant place in which to live.

Friends,

It's been awhile since I've been here. I'm still unemployed, job searching daily with plenty of unpaid activities keeping me busy. When the sun's out I'm reveling in this season and hopeful for the future. On the grey days #3 - #10 I feel listless and sometimes without direction, wondering what the hell I'm doing or not doing with my time.

Getting off the internet and into homemaking mode has proven to be a place of rejuvenation. And I'm really, really enjoying it. Mostly in the kitchen. R and I have hosted a number of people for dinner in these past weeks and months and last week we packed up a couple galettes, salad, and lava cakes and carted them over to a family with a new baby and sat around their table laughing and sharing stories until past all of our normal weekday bedtimes. I cook dinner once a month for my check-in with one of my mentors (and he buys me lunch out once a month - nice.) I'm learning about timing. I have developed unemployed time syndrome. Symptoms include thinking anything is possible, even in condensed amounts of time, because there is no job. I don't always leave myself enough time in the kitchen for everything I've planned to do and I've ruined a couple of pans in the past weeks. However, the overarching feeling is enjoyment and satisfaction. The timing will improve. I like going to the grocery during the week and sitting at the table for most meals. I like getting out a tablecloth and lighting candles. And the time in the kitchen is so centering and sensual. So gratifying to make applesauce out of an almost compost worth apple, cilantro pesto from leftover chili garnish, white bean rosemary dip just because I have everything already at home and it sounds good. Got me thinking recently that the people I visit in the jail have not experienced this in awhile and may never again; the process of creating something with my hands, tasting as I go, loving on all the colors, the warm smells coming from oven, listening to the whirring and the chopping and the bubbling on the stove, anticipating who I'm going to share it with and what conversations might occur across the table, holding R's hand at the seat next to me, talking while he does the dishes.

Some friends brought flowers with them a couple weeks ago and I spent some time the next day dividing the big bouquet into little bouquets around my apartment. The picture above is from the little vase in my bathroom. It's still there. Mums are hardy!

R and I are talking about moving in together. When the sun's out I spend a lot of time fantasizing about making a new home. I would say together, but that's a lie, I like to be in charge of the home front. So he's in the picture, but I'm doing the set up in my mind. I fantasize about a possibly larger than my current one butt kitchen, space to walk on both sides of the bed!, a bedroom door, more of "God's LIGHT" coming through non-north facing windows. I make believe that if we get a 1 bedroom apt. with a dining room in my current building that we'll turn the dining space into shared studio space since we're both project people and maybe they'll be a pull out couch for guests in the living area. Seeing each other regularly without having to plan it. It's already my job to keep his granola jar full, but right now he carts it back and forth in his backpack. I look forward to the possibility of seeing it our countertop.

On other days I'm honestly terrified. I'm irrationally afraid that I'll never be alone again. I feel safest alone, having a space of my own to retreat to, quiet and stillness. Do I really know who I am, how I really feel, and what I want enough to make this decision? In a lot of ways I feel I'm just now shedding more shells and I'm not always sure what I'm going to find underneath. Someone else's life is affected my choices too.

Scared self, I won't abandon you, but I want to grow.

I don't know why, but I was trying to take a picture of my glow in the dark Mary the other night. The pictures just turned out black. I took one with my nightstand light on and kept it. I look at it now and see Mary, the Light, the alarm clock blackened out - comforting me that there is no rush, and the title of another's story Without a Map, which is how I feel at time's these days. Reminding myself that it's not about how I think I should feel, but how I do feel.

I've been on nine informational interviews so far. I've got another one this week and handful in the weeks ahead. I just spent the last two full weekends on the facilitators team for the winter Shanti volunteer training. I loved it and am quite tired. I felt acutely tender and grateful both quiet Sunday mornings walking to training. The training couldn't have come at a better time for me personally. Thank you, Shanti. What an enjoyable privilege.

Architecture Books & Bad Food; Loneliness & Humility

2011-02-03T15:14:00.000-08:00

Sometime last fall or summer I was at spiritual direction and Suzanne was leading me through a Lectio Divina meditation. She asked me "What do you picture yourself handing over to Jesus?" I answered "architecture books and bad food." We both started laughing. Man has that image stayed with me. I giggle every time and I'm experiencing the truth of it unfold.

The New Year is a good time for purging and I know some people who have the bug right now. I have a friend, Sonja, who says when she starts cleaning out her closet she knows change is coming sometimes even before she knows what the change is and she's internally preparing for it by making external room. In December I started going through my books for the thousandth time, change was coming and I knew at least partially what it was. In September I came home from my last week at work with a box of books from work and had a shelf of architecture and art books at home. In order to make room internally and externally for the new vocation that is unfolding and to outwardly profess with my precious books that I wasn't going back to architecture. I didn't need these books anymore and other people might love them. So I kept maybe a half of dozen of those books that I couldn't bear to get rid of (most of them books about sacred spaces) and I gave the rest away to colleagues, students, friends, and neighbors. It felt really, really good. I feel lighter, more spacious, more firm, more concrete in my orientation shift and there's more room in my apartment now. One less box of books on the floor taking up physical, visual, and psychological space.

Saying goodbye.

Job seeking is proving to be a humbling experience. Wow, I am so unqualified for many, many positions. Thankfully this is good, even helpful information. It's clear I need to go back to school if I want some of the jobs out there, like chaplain positions, that I'm not qualified for no matter that I have the heart or desire for it or I have years of volunteer experience. It is hopeful that there are job postings to scan through everyday. What would I feel like if there was perceptibly "nothing" to even move toward?

I'm lonely. Not for friends or meaning or volunteer activities. I'm lonely for co-workers and one place to go everyday. I realized last week that I've been unemployed for about 5 months. When I decided to take time off and claim a Sabbath for myself I had a relatively easy time settling in to the time and feeling guilt free about relaxing. Relaxing and recharging and reconnecting with myself and others was the point. Now that I'm actively looking for a job that is changing and I feel some restlessness creeping in.

Twice this week dear people in my life have called and asked me to lunch, on them. Very nice. And people making themselves available for informational interviews and encouraging and clarifying conversations. I'm a little overwhelmed by all the ways I'm being spoken to and encouraged. Very thankful and as much as I might be lonely sometimes, I feel very full and a little scattered with my energy and focus. Inviting myself to relax in the midst of this time. To enjoy these sometimes slower, scattered days and to claim days for myself with no plans without feeling guilty. My job is to look for a job. That's enough. There's nothing else I can do to further "earn" this "time off." I don't have to be on Craig's list or making phone calls or setting up the next thing whenever I'm sitting still. I'm learning to receive offerings in this season - paid trips to the grocery store, lunches, hosting responsibilities, time to rest and sit in chapels mid-day, car rides to appointments and home from church, sharing of experience, wisdom, and connections.

Time to go bake my sister's birthday cake and enjoy the fact that it's not 11 pm after work with my eyes half crossed to do so.

Praying for all those spending time in hospitals - visiting, working, or lying in the bed. Praying and mindful of all those who have been unemployed for a heck of a lot longer than I have with mortgages to pay and children to feed and be present to, for all those who don't have unemployment benefits or living off them is near to impossible instead of just tight and requiring some restraint and humility.

Much Love, Em

Speak, LOVE, your servant is listening

2011-01-24T14:15:00.000-08:00

I love visiting the Chapel of St. Ignatius at Seattle U. Architects, you'll know this place by its other name - Steven Holl's chapel. There are candles to light, little stacks of poems for the taking, a prayer book to write in, beautiful, milk spilling sculptures, prayer impressed wax walls, rotating prayer cards, restroom relief for urban wanderers, a large baptismal font, stillness amidst the rustling of other bodies trying to be quiet and respectful.

I sat where I could see this statue of Mother and Child last week and a card with the Salve Regina printed on it. I took a picture of it so I could take the words home with me. I didn't know what the Salve Regina was, but I appreciate the sentiment, the crying out to a woman, to a mother.

I could see using this as a framework for a personalized prayer.

Personalizing prayers and poems came up at this past Saturday's Seeking and Listening Reunion Retreat Day. We went around the circle introducing ourselves by name, what retreat we attended and what retreat experience stays with us. For one of the retreatants, previously unbeknownst to me, it was my rewording of Mary Oliver poems and other prayers. She shared with the group her thought "Mmmm. I like that. Wait - can she do that? Is this allowed?"

O, the clutch of our upbringing and being good girls and boys, following the rules. It shows its face even in the most personal of things like our prayer life, our communion with God, with the mystery of Life. Holds us back as we long for freedom, personal expression, community belonging, to know and be known intimately.

I read a great book recently, Beginner's Grace by Kate Braestrup. She's the well known Unitarian Universalist minister, the game warden chaplain in Maine. Her first memoir is Here if You Need Me which I highly recommend. I didn't love her second book of non-fiction about marriage, I did get a gem or two out of it, but it was missing the flow and the magnetism of her first memoir. Well, I'm back as a big fan now. I had to return the book to the library, but several pages were marked. If someone would have been around while I was reading it they would have heard a lot of groaning and I love that or Yes! Her theology is pretty simple and accessible and believable - God is Love.

As I was typing the post about surrender and daily discipline with the scripture from 1 Samuel - Speak, Lord, I'm listening, I thought to myself "Kate would say, Kate would pray, 'Speak LOVE, your servant is listening.' Oooo, Yes." O, to be Love's servant, to be Agape's servant, to stop and be - listening for Love. I remember hearing Alice Walker talk about substituting Love for Lord as well.

Kate Braestrup appears to feel total freedom to change words and write her own prayers. Beginner's Grace, a book about prayer, is full of them, Praise God. Inspires me to keep working on a personalized Lord's prayer and I've committed to writing a communion liturgy for Liberation this year. It was important for me to realize that personalizing prayers doesn't have to mean throwing away the prayers in their original form - including the Lord's prayer (sacrilege?), sometimes it feels so good to say all those Thy's and Thine's and it felt like a gift to look down at a 2-year Academy bulletin one day and see a New Zealand Prayer Book version. Writing my own version helps me flush out the meaning of the original or at least better understand where I find meaning. Writing this post and looking around on line for the links to include I came across this page showcasing several versions of the Lord's prayer and a People's Prayer collected by Zora Neale Hurston and shared by Alice Walker.

In other book reviews and moments of resonance. I'm reading a book right now that I am bowled over by, gives hope, provides scaffolding for a vision, makes me question, are these stories of redemption for real?, unrelenting rebirth alongside unrelenting death. I would be out of my mind to do an information interview with Father Greg Boyle, aka G or G-dog, and other folks at Homeboy Industries, shadow him for a day or a week. His memoir is called Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion. Those Jesuits. Usually I devour books like this, but I'm reading it kind of slowly. I might finish it today. Maybe an interfaith chapel + letterpress/silkscreen studio, a place to heal + a place to work isn't so crazy. One step at a time. I doubt I need to say here that I highly recommend this book.

At the end of the S+L retreat we used the "Keep Watch" prayer. Because the S+L retreats are inclusive spirituality retreats we try to be very conscious of our God talk, to be respectful of everyone present without watering down our language so much that is has no weight or depth, to be so respectful of the people attending who are not religious or don't believe in God, that we ignore the people who are and do. For some this works, for others it doesn't. But, as I recited the prayer I said "Keep watch, dear Love, with all who work or watch or weep this year." I like to say dear, Lord too, but I also exercise the freedom to substitute as led. Keep watch, dear Lord, dear Love, dear Red Bird, dear Community, dear Friends, dear Mystery...

There's a lot of joy and new beginnings this year and a lot of sadness and weeping, hospital stays and chemo treatments, dying and birth, homecomings and going forth.

I'm praying and I know others are too.

Holy Mystery, who dwells in all that is, seen and unseen, hallowed be your many names and your namelessness...

(epl)

Kale Pasta Thing

2011-01-13T15:57:00.000-08:00

Sarah's posted a couple of really useful lists in the past couple months over at In Praise of Leftovers. One of my favorites was Ten Tips for Getting Comfortable in the Kitchen, particularly number 3.

3. Pick a few easy, healthy things and get really good at them. Don’t worry about being inventive at first. Focus on technique, timing, and simple ingredients. If you never “progress” beyond this, you’re still ahead of most people.

One of my successful intentions for 2010 was to cook more at home and get better at it. I'm starting to understand the framework of recipes more instead of needing to follow them literally. I can substitute things with success and recognize the potential for things kicking around in the fridge and the pantry. I can make granola without a recipe. I can roast peppers and blister brussel sprouts. I'm getting pretty successful with this pastry dough (love the lemon zest! I don't use the corn syrup). I'm off to a good start with a turkey bacon, brussel sprout, onion pizza, but the dough needs more work. It needs to be flatter and more cracker like even. I'm happy to keep trying and R. is happy to keep sampling until we hit the sweet spot and stop fussing with it. I received the nicest compliment from a new neighbor. I wish I knew her name. We were both outside our building at the same time and she said "Hi, I live across the hall from you." And my immediate thought was we were too loud. My godson spent the night and we were up at 8:00 a.m. building designs out of dominoes on end to knock over and squeal in delight. W. also taught me a dice game that morning and I was winning for 3/4's of the game much to his vocalized chagrin. But, alas, she only wanted to tell me "your apartment always smells so good. I really admire you for cooking in that tiny kitchen." I asked her if she liked baked goods and promised to leave some next time.

One of my sincerest pleasures from my fall travels was being the cook for our trio while I was visiting Sara and Leo. Leo did dishes and Sara helped out once in awhile or came into the kitchen on breaks from studying to say "thank you! Are you sure you're having fun?" We went out to eat 2 or 3 times that I remember over those days together and the rest of the time we ate at home - galettes, stuffed acorn squash, nachos, green lentils with bacon, onion, and carrots, pizza with goat cheese and butternut squash, salads, blistered brussel sprouts, mashed parsnips and potatoes and this kale pasta dish for me and Leo one night when Sara was at school.

One thing I'm getting really good at is this kale pasta thing for lack of a better title. It started from a recipe on Orangette's website which you can find here. I love onions. This is a new discovery for me this year. I liked them before, but now I LOVE them. I buy 4 at a time now at the market because I use them in several things and I like that this recipe features them.

Here's my version which uses a lot less butter/oil than the original or Orangette's. I've found that you don't need much butter for the taste to come through quite clearly. I've also added kale because another thing I love is greens and I wanted to find a way to get some color and more nutrients in this dish. Lacinato kale is my current favorite. I also use less pasta because I'm more interested in the kale and the onions. This recipe provides a nice serving size for two people plus leftovers for a meal the next day.

Ingredients List:

3 to 4 T. Olive Oil

1 to 2 T. Butter

1 1/2 to 2 Yellow Onions (depending on size)

Pinch of sugar

1 bunch Lacinto Kale

8 oz. Pasta (not spaghetti or Angel Hair, I like shells or bow ties or something else chunky)

Kosher Salt to taste

Grated Parmesan to taste

The way I do it:

Turn your burner on Medium High heat and let a large frying pan warm up. Dump in the oil and the butter, let the butter melt.

Slice the onion into 1/4" thick strips and add to pan with oil and melted butter.

Stir and keep a close eye on the onions for a bit. Sprinkle on the pinch of sugar and stir. Pay attention to the onions and attempt not to burn them. Leave them on the stove for about 30 minutes and stir frequently.

Chop the kale.

At 30 minutes, turn on the water for the pasta, turn down the onions to medium-low, add the kale on top of the onions and cover. Let the kale steam for a bit.

When the water is boiling add the pasta and then mix the onions and the kale together. Turn the heat to low and re-cover.

When the pasta is done, turn off the onions, drain the pasta quickly. Add the hot drained pasta to the kale + onion mix and combine.

Serve in individual bowls. Garnish with a little kosher salt and grated parmesan. You only need about as much cheese per person as you would put on one cracker. Seriously.

I've made this for my sister, my pastor, Leo. It's been kind of a surprise delight with all of them because there's not much to it. It has now surpassed soy cheese nachos as R's favorite thing we eat together. And tomorrow night I'm serving it to the Leftoverist and co. The true test.

I hope this year to learn and practice one or two more simple recipes I can add to my repetoire. Until then I'm going to try this recipe with whole wheat pasta and another time with brown rice.

Here's another good post about heathy eating habits. One of my goals for 2011 is to move out of the obese category on the BMI chart to the overweight category by the end of the year. And thanks to a goal party one of the fellow members at Liberation hosted, I have a goals partner at church too. It feels like having a Secret Santa to me. Very nice.

I'm not planning to do this with a diet. I'm planning to keep doing what I'm doing and add a couple more things. The most effective things I've changed over the past couple of years are three things: Oatmeal for breakfast 6 out of 7 days every week. I love it, it's not a chore. And more beans - easy, yum. Less bread - harder, but more satisfying in the long run. I don't buy bread to have at home for myself anymore and try to pay attention to whether I'm eating it more than once a day. Favorite reason to eat good bread - Shannon's homemade rye bagels! That's a recipe I want to learn too.

This year more whole grains, mindful eating - like sitting at the table instead of standing at my butcher block island & pausing between bites, meditation, checking in with myself and more walking for exercise sake, not just transportation. Surrender to the fact that being healthier will require more daily discipline. So far, so good. Joyful even. Grateful to be alive and well.

Salud!

Surrender

2011-01-07T09:21:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year, friends.

I look back at the posts from this year and feel spooked and grateful. I'm celebrating and I'm excited. This slug got some traction this year. Thank you for holding the space for me to voice what I've been desiring and following along as I try to live it out. Last January when I started this blog I wouldn't have predicted where I'm writing from right now: searching for new employment, applying to seminary, rebuilding my relationship with R.

I also realize over and over again how I wrestle with discipline. Be it a daily practice like prayer & meditation, yoga at home, mindful eating, and exercise or a weekly practice like writing a blog post. Realizing this came as a surprise to me because the "J" in me wants order and loves planning, I'm dependable, consistent, a hard worker, etc. Things requiring solo execution that on the surface appear to be just for me, I like to do at my own speed, when I feel like it. Never mind the recovery principle of action before motivation which I actually believe in. Or the spiritual and religious teaching that says true freedom comes with discipline. Never mind that this reeks of the breeding ground of enabling behavior - so obvious as I type this. Basically, I'm describing bordering on neglecting true self care or putting it last on my actualized list even if it shows up first on the written list of the life I aspire to.

Or as R. and I call it - I have a lot of ideas. As in I'm ignoring myself right now, but let me tell you about yourself.

I have a lot of ideas about his life and everything else. I'm better at minding my own business when it comes to others (thank you, Shanti and Mercy Center), but he's my favorite person to have ideas for. "Have you thought about, I think you should, what about, mm. I don't know about that. Why did you do that?" When he's being generous with me he'll say "Hey, Idea Girl, what do you think about this?" He appreciates that me having ideas isn't all bad and I'm the source of a lot of good joking and button pushing. We did meet on a jobsite after all. I was the idea person and he was the executioner. Ha. Lucky for me and him there are programs for this.

This problem as it relates to discipline for me was first illuminated for me in a yoga workshop on starting a home practice. Our pre-class homework for the class was to take our yoga mats out at home and do five minutes of yoga for 4 days before the workshop - even if we only sat on our mats in meditation or laid in savasana. 1 person out of 20 or so completed this assignment. I found this interesting, but honestly I was thinking everyone has trouble establishing a home yoga practice, clearly I have company in this arena.

Then, I co-led and participated in the 5-day Academy this past fall and Robert had us do the work / prayer / rest / community exercise. He had us pick one category and list the things we were actually doing, not what we aspired to, what we actually did daily, weekly, monthly, yearly, etc. Wow. I did not have one prayer or meditation practice that I was committed to every day and it was right there on the paper. A large blank space under daily prayer.

Now that is not to say that I don't pray everyday - I do. But, I'm all over the map with my practices - I'm an equal opportunity pray-er and meditator. I love it all. Lighting candles, sitting in silence, writing lists, lectio divina, using mantras, breath prayers, prayer books, blah, blah, blah. My friend Kelly asked me if I couldn't just be thankful that I'm fed in so many different ways? And yes, I am!

You already know that I didn't post weekly here on this blog as planned or stated. I look back at the number of posts and divide by 52 and I come out just over 1 per week on average. I think the guy that wrote The Underachiev-er's Manifesto would be proud! I'm not an all or nothing kind of girl. I don't stop praying just because I don't do it the same way everyday, I don't stop going to yoga or getting my mat out once in awhile at home just because "I don't do it everyday so what's the point anyway?" If anything that beautiful, translucent slug taught me it was to just keep moving as I'm made.

I do want flexibility in my life. I do want to go with the flow. I don't want to be rigid.

However.

I think this daily discipline thing is part of the answer to that question: Do I want to be healed?

I think my interior freedom is tied up with surrender to a daily practice, with surrender to God and leaving space for stillness and not fill every moment with all of my ideas. I'm grateful for my mind and

I think discipline is the keystone to my wholeness - showing humility to the Mystery I was created in, recognizing I'm not in control and I want to listen and say thank you. Ask for the help or Grace I need and not try to figure it out or do it all on my own.

So, I'm not getting ready to promise that I'll be here every week at a certain date and time. I haven't made a decision about whether or not to keep this blog going all of 2011. It wasn't intended to be a life time thing and it's possible that it has served it's purpose. New life is being born in me, I couldn't ask for more than that. However, I do have thoughts almost daily that I'd like to get down and out, so I'm not planning on leaving this blog right now. Turns out Year of the Slug wants a little more time.

I am saying that Surrender is the word for me this year. Stopping. Laying it down, whatever it is, everyday, in gratitude for my life - 20 minutes of intentional time everyday.

I didn't do it today, shocker. I was disciplined in December with this practice, but the past couple of days I've been waking up with energy and excitement to start my job search so I just blast past the quiet time with my enthusiasm.

Warning sign. Full of myself. What? Do I not trust that the enthusiasm will still be there if I take 20 minutes to sit and say Thank you? Speak, Lord, your servant is listening?

I think I'm one of those people that likes talking and thinking about it almost more than actually doing it. O look at that beautiful list I've made for the perfect, most holistic day, week, etc.

That's why they call it a practice. I won't give up. I'm faithful in my own way. Slow, but faithful. And because I have actually followed through on a regular, albeit sporatic, basis I know I do like the practice more than the idea of the practice. Feels so good when I finally do surrender.

Good night, sweet dreams.

P.S. The banner picture and the picture at the top of this post were taken by Sara Blandford when I was with her and Leo on the Cape this fall. Those white strings on those bare branches wave surrender to me. I see myself placing something on that natural altar in offering. Thank you for these pictures, sister.

Kindness

2010-12-28T14:05:00.000-08:00

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you every where
like a shadow or a friend.

-Naomi Shihab Nye

For more on Naomi Shihab Nye see this post on In Praise of Leftovers

Merry Christmas

2010-12-23T15:53:00.001-08:00

November

The wind

howls

like a coyote

at the moon

the trees

lie still

in their blankets of leaves

only covering

their feet

and their branches

dead like bones

the only life

is in our house

by the fire

-Wyatt MK, 7 years old

There are many things I will remember about this Advent and Christmas season - baking with my sister, quiet mornings and the UCC Advent devotional, my handmade ornament from Loretta, receiving a wrapped copy of one of Wyatt's poems, LAUGHING after an amazing chicken mole dinner with the MKs, starting my internal Advent season with my Mom in November at the retreat center, texting with my new neighbor JV across the hall, the Advent prayer breakfast with some dear, constant friends, the annual viewing of Elf with friends, participating in a little church at one of the bars in my neighborhood as a drag queen lip synched to Mariah Carey's version of Jesus, Oh What a Wonderful Child at the end of a day when Liberation's choir nailed that song during worship, talking with my Aunt in Massachusetts, connecting with my cousins over fb, remembering my Uncle, acknowledging the reality that things have changed - at this time last year my dad wouldn't leave the house and this year he's driving himself to doctor's appointments!, sitting in a circle at bible study and talking about what Christmas means to each of us and coming out as a Christmas junkie - secular and religious, playing cards on the ferry with R. on Christmas Eve and arriving to my sister's cute, flared out apartment including personalized packages of her homemade peppermint, marshmallow bark as place cards on a beautifully set table, my sister channeling my mom making egg casserole at midnight still in her coat after church, opening Sara B's thoughtful gifts and feeling that mysterious, eerie connection we have over the miles whether we've talked recently or not, me, Jess and R. standing in the door and waving to JV after a sweet Christmas day together, realizing that I'm dating Buddy the Elf, holiday non-specific.

That last one really snuck up on me. I just looked across the table one day and starting giggling. Of course! He loves sugar (!!!), snuggling, holding hands, whispering, making things in the workshop. He's even got one up on the North Pole Buddy. Laughing is his favorite, not just smiling. And making other people laugh - score! He came over smiling one night, first thing he said after taking off his coat and boots, "I made someone laugh today," like he'd just won the lottery. I guess I missed all the signs because they come wrapped in black hooded sweatshirts with hand sewed on patches and a serious dislike of singing! One night this season we were sitting at my dining table working on our own holiday projects and we had the TV pulled up, watching Scrooged with Bill Murray, and he announced "this is my favorite, this is my love language right here" hand coming out palm down to circle over the workspace between us "sitting here, with you, working on our projects together, watching a movie, ya."

Me too, babe. I got a postcard after that night of a little workshop addressed to "The World's Best Cookie Maker." Of course, the workshop is a little red beady eyed RAT workshop, but you know he's got his own spin on things and what he finds "cute." That's fine with me. I'm just soaking up his celebratory spirit and saying thank you.

I've been thinking a lot that at this time last year I hadn't had contact with him in almost 18 months. Who knew? I end this year grateful for many unexpected things and having this holiday non-specific Elf back in my life, sober with both of us in recovery working our own programs, is one of them, very close to the top.

Here's a picture of him I received as a response to a text message I sent him telling him what time to meet me and my family for dinner. Love this guy and his mobile workshop.

Peace and Merriment to all who are reading this, I pray your season was equally blessed. For those I know it wasn't, I'm praying. Much love.

Creating the Path by Walking

2010-12-13T15:53:00.000-08:00

I was privileged to preach yesterday for the fourth time this year. I did it without notes which feels like a real accomplishment. I see and experience myself as having a lot of room for improvement and refinement in delivery and thought, but I am full of enthusiasm and up for the challenge and practice. It's a pleasure to connect with people after the service and hear what they have to say - what they held onto, what did or didn't come across.

The past couple of months have been rich with questions pulled from books and conversations, interviews and images. Plenty to chew on.

The Black Virgin of Rocamadour breaking prisoners free of their chains, women leaving pieces of chain in front of the Virgin at the altar in Traveling with Pomegranates, and the preposition shift illuminated by Desmond Tutu in this Speaking of Faith/onBeing interview - there's being freedom from and there's freedom for - quite different and the second half proving to be more difficult.

Yesterday, we talked about creating the path by walking. And basically I told on myself. Testified about my desire to sit back and figure it all out before moving. I'm growing in this area, but having these months to reflect on the last 18 years in the architecture world and sharing it with the congregation yesterday, well, my story got some laughs. Especially, the part where I told them I sent out a letter to about 50 friends and family members in fall 2003 on the eve of being laid off stating that I wanted to be connected more to God and humanity in my work life in a more tangible way and might be using this lay off as an opportunity to make a transition.

Nope.

Just a change of scenery.

Found myself working at another architecture firm 3 months later. Ha!

I made a list of all the things I did start doing, on the side, after sending out that letter which led me to the place I am now, seven years later - confident enough to follow through on this transition in my life and not just change locations. I have compassion for my younger self and I don't want to waste any more time.

So I'll keep walking towards whatever it is I'm called to do in this life and now I've got another 50 people who know that I've made myself and them that promise. And I've encouraged them to do the same.

Keep walking, though there's no place to get to.

Don't try to see through the distances.

That's not for human beings. Move within,

but don't move the way fear makes you move.

Walk to the well.

Turn as the earth and the moon turn,

circling what they love.

Whatever circles comes from the center.

-Rumi

Healthcare and Vulnerability

2010-12-08T15:19:00.000-08:00

Nursed a cold down at VPC last week with their chicken noodle matza ball soup and their festive decorations. They seem to have gotten the memo that you can have decorations up and not play the same Christmas CD on repeat all month. Happily the Beatles are on the airwaves. I'm keeping a nice little zone of personal space around me with my nose blowing.

Sarah MK posted a great article of facebook today that I want to share here. Elizabeth Edwards wrote the article in August 2008.

For the most part in this hopefully short season of voluntary unemployment I'm mercifully nearly free of worry about the future and not afraid of whatever is ahead job wise. More than that I'm excited! I feel at peace with my decision. I'm relieved and 3 months in free of regrets. I haven't seconded guessed myself once. I think these are signs of a good decision (and a pretty privileged life). I've had an amazing Fall and am enjoying a quiet Advent.

However, it does bother me to be nearly uninsured. I think about it at least once a day. Somedays I think about it several times a day.

Most of my friends have been through uninsured seasons. Long ones. Some of us have paid monthly for catastrophic coverage and paid for doctors visits out of pocket, some have not. Some voted to pay for their kids coverage instead of their own. All of the people I know who are or were uninsured put off medical attention for non-catastrophic ailments until they were insured again. Livable, but painful!

The main reason I feel vulnerable is my allergies and my lungs. I have allergic asthma, which means that my asthma is trigged by the things I'm allergic too. Before I left my job I was getting two allergy shots once a month. I am allergic to enough things to fill two vials of serum. I've had allergies since I was a little kid. Bad enough that I spent half of first grade home from school with bronchitis and strep throat until the doctors figured out that I had allergies not juvenile diabetes or arthritis. I was still susceptible to bronchitis and I've already written about my experience being hospitalized for pneumonia in highschool. I got allergy shots for about 10 years and then I didn't start getting them again until 3 or 4 years ago. Some people grow out of their allergies. Changing locations helps too. After being out here for over a decade they started creeping up again so I went back on the shots. My allergies and lung health have been very well maintained. Through environmental choices and self care and insurance coverage. I loved my last allergist, Dr. Butler and his nurse Sheryl at Group Health. The nurses at the injection room knew me by name.

I took a risk when I left my job and therefore my health insurance. At first I though I would be able to continue paying for my health insurance and allergy shots through COBRA. Not the case. Because the firm was under 20 employees when I left we (the 6 of us who left) didn't qualify. But, it was still worth it to me to leave. My last job was becoming detrimental to my health. I cracked 3 teeth last year and lost quite a bit of sleep due to stress induced insomnia. I feel like I traded my overall health and well being for health insurance.

Even with dental insurance that I paid for myself while I was employed I paid $800 out of pocket to fix my cracked teeth. And $500 out of pocket for my night guard to stop cracking my teeth. For reasons I don't understand cracked teeth are not an insurable. reason for a night guard. Whatever.

I have used my inhaler every day for the past couple of weeks. And it's clear to me that getting back on health insurance is a high priority for me in the new year. Allergies are not cancer, but it is a priority for me. I'm responsible for these lungs of mine.

I do not believe that affordable health insurance should be tied to employment.

I'm going to repeat that, I do not believe that health insurance should be tied to employment. And I don't think it should have to change, along with your doctor, every time your job changes or your employer changes plans!!

I could go on and on here - the cost, community health, etc. But, I want to write about something else today in a different post.

I got into a heated conversation recently with a friend of a family member. Meeting him for the first time we got to talking about politics and healthcare. He sited this letter. I was practically shaking during our conversation. We ended up hugging goodbye at the end. I believe in dialogue and sharing experience and listening. But I do have a little righteous, some may say self righteous, anger in me too. I think the conversation would have been more "productive" if I went into Shanti mode and asked some open ended questions instead of turning red and defensive. Live and learn.

Thankful for my body and my health and the possibility of getting back to the allergist in the New Year.

One more link - I listened to a great interview with T.R. Reid this past year on NPR. I think it's worth a listen.

I hope to see good, fair Universal Healthcare in our country in my lifetime.

Thank you, Mary

2010-11-30T11:26:00.000-08:00

Before Jesus

was his mother.

Before supper
in the upper room,
breakfast in the barn.

Before the Passover Feast,
a feeding trough.
And here, the altar of Earth,
fair linens of hay and seed.

Before his cry,
her cry.
Before his sweat of blood,
her bleeding and tears.
Before his offering,
hers.

Before the breaking of bread and death,
the breaking of her body in birth.

Before the offering of the cup,
the offering of her breast.
Before his blood,
her blood.
And by her body and blood alone,
his body and blood and whole human being.

The wise ones knelt
to hear the woman's word in wonder.
Holding up her sacred child,
her God in the form of a babe,
she said:

"Receive and let your hearts be healed
and your lives be filled with love,
for This is my body,
This is my blood."

-Alla Bozarth-Campbell

Shared this poem during the Welcome for our Women in Ministry service at Liberation on Sunday. And so Advent begins for me with this poem. With Mary. She's been visiting me a lot this fall in some expected and unexpected ways and places. I took the picture in a dark hallway at the St Francis Retreat Center in Michigan. I told a story at church on Sunday about going up to ask to receive communion from the priest at the end of the retreat. I really wanted to receive communion, have received communion at other Catholic retreat centers, and so I went forward. My mom stayed in the pews smiling and shaking her head. I held out my hands and said "I'm not Catholic." The priest looked at me flustered and said "well, what are you then?" I thought of several things I could have said later, but at the time I simply answered, "I'm Christian." He kind of sighed and put the wafer in my hands, Sri Lankan cross dangling from my wrist, "Body of Christ".

Amen.

I liked that priest. He preached an awesome sermon on the Feast Day of Christ the King about Gifting and Leadership. He seems frustrated and spent, no time for b.s. I got nervous a couple of times because he was so outspoken with his uncensored thoughts referring to "Prince Boo-Boo and his fiance" masquerading as world news. At first I thought he was talking about President Obama and I was going to have to stand up and leave (I saw a midwest billboard left over from midterm elections encouraging voting saying "Your country or Obama's regime?"), but he wasn't and I'm glad I stayed. A couple of the things that stuck with me - we all have gifts and we will be held accountable for how we have or have not used them. That we are called to lead with our gifts - all of us. "We're not just followers, dammit!" That the church should model a style of leadership that asks "what can we do for you, how can we serve you" instead of demanding "here's what you can do for me/us." WELL!

Well, Father Larry. I'm a Woman of God and a Leader. I am gifted with hosting an open table. Thank you for your words and hosting me, however reluctantly or not, at yours.

Thank you, Mary. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Alla Bozarth-Campbell. Thank you, Mom. Thank you, random bloggers.

Stumbled upon this post looking for the above poem this morning.

http://pastoretteponderings.blogspot.com/2008/02/bakerwoman-god.html

Nesting

2010-11-10T08:28:00.000-08:00

Over half way through my little pilgrimage. Landed in Michigan yesterday. Making my way west. Migrating home. I notice that I need a little transition time as I move from place to place to settle in with all the different people I'm seeing and spending time with, a little adjustment period into my temporary nests. The deers in the backyard and the bright red cardinals are welcoming and calm. Being here without my sister feels strange. I miss her. I didn't expect that. Funny and nice to think I'll see her when I'm back in Seattle, that we'll celebrate Thanksgiving together on the west coast this year. Today it's me and my mom, alone for the day, a rare treat.

Other people need time to adjust to me too, I think. That was a learning for me a few years ago. More of the "it's not just about me" theme.

Being with Jordan was really, really easy. After messing up some solo subway trips the first day trying to navigate unexpected track maintenance, I really stepped into the rhythm and loved walking around New York by myself. Riding the trains and people watching. Making a commitment to smile at everyone, beaming inside at the rare smile back. A few people even asked me for directions while I was there. What a gorgeous place. And such a delight to get off the train in Brooklyn and walk up the stairs to find Jordan at her desk, get a hug, swap stories about the day, see her projects, share my city tales, and head out for a couple hours together and fall asleep talking or watching TV in bed.

One of the many things I'm loving about this month is the mixture of alone time and shared time. Everyone I've visited so far is working or in graduate school or both. It's divine. Solo hours and shared meals. Not talking for hours mixed with good night wishes and sending off hugs after breakfast. No one caring where I am or what I'm doing during the day and then knowing folks are waiting for me or I'm waiting for them when the sun is setting. No pressure to be on or be entertained. And I get a view into their daily living, shining their lights, learning, serving, and pushing on.

My mom just said to me - "If you want quiet time you're not gonna get it here. I talk a lot and I'm so excited to have you here I can't shut up." I got a "Hey, Toots" and some squealing and a long hug at the airport yesterday. Much to R's chagrin I imagine, I let my mom call me anything she wants including "dolly." It just feels different when she says it. I better get with the program or I'll miss out on all the fun of being with my mom today.

Love to you all, Em

P.S. Clearly I've just gotten the Hipstamatic app for my phone as well and am loving it.

2010-11-01T18:12:00.001-07:00

Artwork by Nikki McClure

Seattle Stranger Cheat Sheet here

All Hallow's Eve

2010-10-31T12:40:00.001-07:00

Happy Halloween from a sunny, windy corner of Northeast. It's a quiet, lazy Sunday afternoon. Sara's studying, Leo's watching football. It feels like a holiday. The kind where you lay around and call family. Eat good food. I'm sitting in the kitchen looking out at the backyard. Sara and I went to church together this morning. The only prescheduled must do for our time together. Communion, singing, hand holding, prayers of the people, good groan worthy message, coffee hour meeting people that have become a part of Sara's community here. The church is a little Episcopal church in Provincetown right on the bay "where the land, the sea, and the sacred meet."

St. Mary's and Liberation's worship services don't look much alike, but a radically inclusive Spirit is alive and well in both places. St. Mary's is an older crowd, mostly retired, mostly white and being Episcopalian is pretty "high church." By the end of communion I was crying after witnessing so much kindness in that little place. There's a time in the liturgy every week for people celebrating birthdays and anniversaries to come up to receive a blessing. Two men with matching rings on their fingers I'd guess in their 60's stood up and whispered to the white haired retired priest "we're not officially married, but we're going to receive the blessing." And they did. No big fuss.

A woman stood up during announcements - "Soup Kitchen starts in November, St. Mary's has the third Sunday of every month and we're hosting a food pantry again this year. Please remember the homeless within our community."

They serve wine and grape juice during communion. I assume in support of people in recovery and whether or not that's the intention it does make the elements more accessible to everyone. That means a lot to me. I haven't been to a Catholic or Episcopal service in Seattle that does that. No big fuss.

A woman sitting in the pew in front of us rolled an oxygen tank in with her and didn't get up for communion. Another woman came over to her and anointed her with a hand on her head whispering in her ear, the woman with the oxygen tank leaning in.

Followed by the priest and a Eucharistic minister offering communion to her at her pew. Again, no big fuss.

All just a part of the weekly liturgy in their community, the living Word, the works of the people.

I want to be that kind. I want to be that present. I want to be that aware and that open to the people around me. To go to where the need is and not wait for it to come to me. To approach the table acknowledging my own needs.

Blessing, healing, serving, receiving. Those are my deepest desires. I pray this can be my work as well as my life.

Poking around on wikipedia today about Halloween and as a result reading about the Celtic celebration Samhain. "Summer's end" or the end of the lighter half of the year. Presumably this time of year is a time when the veil is thin between the seen and the unseen, the living and the dead. The Cape during the off season feels like a soft place, maybe a thin place. Most certainly a quiet place. A still place even with the wind.

All Saints' Day tomorrow, followed by All Souls Day and Day of the Dead (Dia de los Muertos). Makes me think of R. It's his favorite time of year and not just for the zombies. I miss him. Thinking of my grandparents and my friend Trudy who is keeping vigil with her mother Gertrude.

I downloaded Vince Gauraldi's Great Pumpkin Waltz this afternoon and have been listening to it on repeat. My sister, Julia, and I made a trip to Gordon Skagit Farms a couple weeks ago and it was amazing and pretty simple - squash and pumpkins, apple and cider. Jess read about it on Sarah's blog and wrote me months ago saying let's get this on the calendar. Walking around I kept waiting to turn the corner around the barn and run into Charlie Brown under the ominous sky. Jess and I kept saying "wouldn't Mom just die here?" When I called home this afternoon she was vacuuming and dusting "getting ready for Halloween." My mom has the gift of celebration and decoration for sure.

Thankful for how I was raised with the costumes and the pumpkins, the trick or treating and the cemeteries. Thankful for all I'm continuing to learn about various traditions and cultures, including my own. Our roots are deep and interwined.

I love being here. Whatever time of year, wherever we are, being with Sara is always a thin place, a soft place for me.

First Annual Liberation Church Retreat

2010-10-21T10:33:00.000-07:00

Ocean City. Two houses. 28 people. Plenty of soak your clothes to the bone rain, board games, ice breakers, name games, shared meals, conversations, prayer groups, community theater exercises, one-on-ones, affirmations, cards, large group conversations about gossip and meditation, conversations about desires for guidance and community coupled with a lack of willingness to commit, follow through and to lead, worship inside the house that stopped people walking by outside.

To be honest I came home exhausted and I was ready to leave Saturday night. Not that I wasn't having a good time. I laughed my ass off. I couldn't walk two feet without getting a hug (this is very comfortable for me and one of my love languages). I got to spend time with amazing people - some who I knew pretty well and some I didn't and I heard some personal stories of such sadness and bravery, joy, and perseverance. Some of the stories I heard resonated with such a strong sense of Self and awareness of God presence in the midst of struggle it kind of knocked me over. I also was a little late to get the memo that some of us are attending a radically inclusive church because we've been radically excluded. And we had a discussion about how "hurt people hurt people" and how that looks in churches whether we're trying to be a safe place or not, including our own.

Experiencing this on the heels of the Seeking + Listening retreat the weekend before was heavy for me. No one asked me to carry their stories around, but I did for a few days. Regardless of where I was the weekend before I also require down time and quiet that was in short supply. And I lack the gumption that Darrell has to go to the beach by himself at 4 a.m. in the morning on Sunday to get it.

I brought my white ass, contemplative, self-obsessed, melancholy self to church on Sunday and read The Journey by Mary Oliver for the welcome. Some people said thank you, other people said "you o.k.?" And then we sang like crazy in an amoeba shape, gathered in across the pews , holding hands, singing "JESUS!, You are! The Center. of my Jo o oy!" over and over again and damn, that was good. "We belong to you, we belong to you, we belong to you." May we live that.

Here's what I'm sitting with now about 10 days or so away from the weekend. The retreat worked. I feel closer to the people I worship with and a little unsteady, awkward in myself, challenged, questioned. Got another heavy dose of "it's not about me." And an invitation to think about my life and lives of those around me. What are my needs, what are the needs of others? How do I fit? How am I fed? How do I serve? How will I serve?

And I feel a strong sense of Love and gratitude. I sat at church last night after a kick ass bible study discussion about Acts 16:16-40 (Paul and Silas singing in jail until the earth shook) sitting alone in the pews listening to choir rehearsal, soaking it in and laughing along with the joking. I sang to myself and recorded a few minutes of their singing so I can take it with me on my pilgrimage. I will miss our worship and individual and collective voices.

Sonny, invited me to close the rehearsal with prayer so I joined the choir circle and started with "Dear God, I love these men and women..." When we broke the circle David looked at me and said "And we love you, too." Got a text from Marlon at 7:40 this morning. "I love you big much."

I'm terrified of being suffocated, sucked dry and yet that is so different than being emptied in order to be filled. Lord, I am experiencing both, not always without anxiety, but I am being challenged, welcomed, emptied, and filled. It is so different that being Loved.

(Here's the Mary Oliver poem I read before Communion at the retreat with . The pictures on this post were taken at the ocean just before worship.)

The Vast Ocean Begins Just Outside Our Church: The Eucharist

Something has happened
to the bread
and the wine.

[Something has happened to us.]

They have been blessed.

[We have been blessed.]
What now?

The body leans forward

to receive the gift
from [each other's hands],
then the chalice.

They are something else now
from what they were
before this began.

[We are something else now from what we were before this began.]

[We] want
to see Jesus,
maybe in the clouds

or on the shore,
just walking,
beautiful man

and clearly
someone else
besides.

On the hard days
[We] ask [ourselves]
if [we] ever will.

Also there are times
[our] body whispers to [us]
that [we] have.

-Mary Oliver

OFFERINGO

2010-10-21T09:56:00.000-07:00

PLEASE JOIN ME AND MY LOVE OF A CHURCH - LIBERATION MINISTRIES - TOMORROW NIGHT - DETAILS BELOW.

Are you looking to put a twist on your usual Friday night routine?

If so, join Liberation Ministries on Friday October 22^nd for a night filled with live music, spoken word, delicious entrees, and amazing prizes at our first annual Offer-I-N-G-O fundraiser. This bingo night helps sustain our benevolence fund and the monies raised ensure that we can continue to support the community.

Tickets are $20 and get you the following:

• Entrance into the event – Great atmosphere, live performances, and nationally traveled MCs to keep us entertained.

• 1 food ticket – We are selling “tapas” (small plates) at the event but the first one is on us!

• 1 drink ticket – This is a non-alcoholic event but we will have juice, soda, and water for sale… again, the first one is on us!

• 1 Bingo starter kit – One BINGO sheet with 3 games and a dauber with ink to easily mark off your numbers.

• A chance to win gift certificates to restaurants, ocean-front hotels and more.

• The ability to help support the community we minister to by attending this event!

DOORS OPEN AT 7:30, FIRST BINGO GAME AT 8:00 PM. EVENT HELD AT EPIPHANY PARISH GREAT HALL 1805 38th Ave Seattle, WA 98122-3447

If you have any questions feel free to contact Marletta at finance@liberationministries.net or (202) 270.8835.

Liberation Ministries is a radically inclusive, multi-cultural, charismatic ministry in Seattle. We accept all people regardless of race, ethnicity, socio-economic status, or sexual orientation. You’ve received this e-mail because you’ve attended one of Liberation Ministries outreach events or services. If you wish to be removed from our mailing list please contactfreedom@liberationministries.net.

A special thanks to Fisher Radio Seattle and 98.1 King FM!

In-Between

2010-10-20T13:27:00.000-07:00

I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise till noon, rapt in reverie, amidst the pines ... in undisturbed solitude and stillness, while the birds sang around. I grew in those seasons like corn in the night, and there were far better than any work of the hands would have been. They were not time subtracted from my life, but so much over and above my usual allowance.

- Henry David Thoreau

Hello friends.

Greetings on another amazing Seattle autumn day. This weather. I was talking with one of my Shanti supervisors the other day and she said "you know I just feel like everything's going to be o.k. and then I looked out the window and realized - the sun's out, of course."

I feel really grateful to be laid off right now in this very season. So many days with clear blue sky, crisp air, and the most loving Sunshine beaming away. And almost everyday I get to be out in it for a spell. What a luxury.

I have volunteered my way through October and I've been a grateful participant and contributor at several meaningful events this month - two retreats, a Liberation fundraiser coming up this Friday. I went back to the jail last Friday and had one great conversation. I haven't seen him in awhile and I ended up listening to him for about an hour. We had kind of a touchstone conversation earlier this year and it's amazing to me how we still go back to it, that little nugget, use it as an anchor, a hinge point. I love those conversations. They're not a dime a dozen. It's a privilege and well worth a sunny Friday afternoon. Typing that sentence makes me think of how many people incarcerated I've witnessed lose their color - literally. White folks and people of color. It's disturbing to see the physical ramifications of not being touched by the sun for long periods of time.

I feel no absence in my life not having a job. I realize that may change as time goes on, but right now about 6 weeks in I find myself at the end of this month quite tired. I could easily fill all of my time with a lot of meaningful things. And I find myself craving rest, nothing to do, nothing to think about, follow up on, plan, contribute and I have the opportunity to do that make the time to STOP and sit. Nothing else.

That's my plan for the weekdays in December. This Elf already has her weekends planned out. A Sabbatical from plans during typical work hours. More quiet time to sit in the in-between that is this season of my life. For the past weeks it's been the in-between moments during the days between meetings and appointments and I've been soaking them in. I even painted my nails a couple of times.

I do not have a job. I do not have a job. It feels so good when I stop to sit with that. I do not have a job. I am not a working architect. uhhhhhhhhhh. Long exhale.

I do have a life - a full, rich life. And there's a calling on it, just like everyone else.

So grateful.

And tired.

The What's Next question is coming up a lot in conversation lately. I'm still not exactly sure. But I do know that I don't want to cram this precious time so full that I can't listen for it or recognize it. I had a realization when I can home from the Liberation retreat and met with my Spiritual Director. If I want listening and holding space for people to speak the unspeakable to be my work than it's not just about changing my vocation or my title. It's about changing my lifestyle too. The way I live my days and spend all of my time. Not just the 9-5.

That's plenty to sit with for awhile and it's worth saying no more often for a spell so I can listen. The New Year will be here soon enough.

Praying for relief from the unwelcome unemployment of so, so many and the overworked employment of most everyone else. Praying for those who don't know if their jobs will be their jobs next week, next month, or in the New Year. And praying for those who are sitting with dying family members or grieving their losses.

Yoga "Demonic"?

2010-10-15T13:57:00.000-07:00

This article appeared recently in the Seattle Times. I haven't had a chance to read it yet, but I did have a nice discussion at the start of a yoga class yesterday about the concept of yoga being at odds with being Christian. Never mind that Jesus said the Kingdom of God is within us. I really believe this. I might have more to write about this later, but I wanted to post this while I'm thinking of it.

I've been talking with folks at my charismatic church about yoga on and off for the past year and listening to comments people about yoga and meditation. Some of them are very thoughtful and some are ignorant. And one comment was really interesting to me after I invited a friend to come with me to my studio - that as a Christian she has to be careful about what kind of spiritual energies she exposes herself to. I hope we'll continue the conversation. I don't see our human bodies as inherently demonic, evil, sinful and that's one of the things I wonder if people are saying when they say yoga is demonic. My body is a sacred vessel and an amazing teacher, healer, creation. I believe that about your body too.

I can't imagine my life without yoga. I don't say that lightly.

I am Christian. I've made a commitment to walk this path, my feet are firmly planted, my eyes are on Jesus, but my arms, my heart and my mind are wide open to wisdom - wherever it comes from. And there's a yoga mat under my feet now, Praise God. I'm not really concerned about whether or not this meets anyone else definition of being a Christian. I hope you see the fruits of the Spirit in my life and those around me. And when you look at me and I look at you I hope that's what we're looking for.

A Wandering Guest

2010-09-30T16:51:00.000-07:00

I just signed in to write about hospitality and before I could start typing I was greeted by name just now in the way that a dear friend who stumbles upon you on the sidewalk might smile and say "Emily!" Except I just met this woman for the first time last week at Communion. She seemed so genuinely excited to see me and gave me a hug. Told me they missed me this week. In that no-guilt kind of way that makes me think she actually meant it. I got to hear about her day and her sons and her upcoming travels. Love these moments on the hill. A stranger even stopped to talk to me this afternoon about this amazing sunshine while I was sitting here and a market employee recognized me and smiled. Evidently, it's not over yet, because I just got to hold a new baby's hand for a few minutes. A friend of a friend came by with her baby "Emily!" Are you puking yet? I'm blissing out. Grateful. Have I said that enough yet? Nah, I don't think it's possible. I'm so thankful, I'm so grateful for this time, this neighborhood, the people I know and I'm getting to know, the people I haven't met yet.

These days could be lonely for an extrovert, but for the most part they really haven't been. I'm so thankful that I've been in the neighborhood for over 10 years and so many people at the yoga studio alone know my name. I've been there 15 of the 30 days this month. I love walking in after spending time alone and seeing familiar face(s), hearing my name, getting a hug, being their guest and hosting myself on the mat, singing along.

Often these days I felt like a wandering honored guest. Yesterday, especially, I was treated so kindly everywhere I went.

R. came over for breakfast at 7:30 a.m. and told me that the truck was parked close by and gassed up. We had a sweet 1 1/2 hours together before he walked me to the truck and sent me off to my appt so I wouldn't have to pay for a zipcar.

When I arrived at K's office she asked me if I was cold and offered a throw. She pulled a warm, soft blanket out of the corner, opened it and spread it out over my lap. Such a simple thing that made me feel so noticed and cared for.

Marpac, the contractors I worked with on Senior City while I was at EW, suggested and arranged for a team lunch to gather and say goodbye to me. So we met yesterday at Boom Noodle. Three folks from Marpac, my now former boss, Roger and a couple of people from the development consultants office, Common Ground. All around a nice big table eating off of each other's plates and sharing appetizers. We spent quite a bit of time together the past few years. Marpac is amazingly hospitable. I can't think of a meeting where there wasn't food. And this team I'm proud and happy to say was amazingly collaborative, mindful of each other and each other's role on the project. And the process was not without bumps in the road! Matthew, the construction eyes for Common Ground, gave me an unexpected gift - a beautiful, lined journal with a cross and icons on the front. I work with a lot of men who have daughters about my age or younger and I'm always pleasantly surprised by their tenderness and thoughtfulness, their listening skills, the conversations we have. It's such a gift to be seen and to have my efforts as an architect and project manager with the team honored and my dreams for the future acknowledged and encouraged. I raised my glass to toast the team saying it had been my sincere pleasure to work with all of them and they said "Emily, you're the bomb. No wait, Emily, you're the boom!" We all laughed and clinked glasses and I accepted it and soaked it in, tucking it away for a time in the future when I'm trying out new things, knowing intimately how every person at that table was essential to the work getting done well. Also, the project continues to wrap up behind the scenes and I'm not there. Everything is going fine without me as well.

I walked to the dentist where I sat in the chair for another 2 1/2 hours of drilling and filling and permanent crowning. My jaw has been less than happy with me the past week. I can't open my mouth wide enough to get a fork with too much food on it in there. I can chew without pain PTL. This happened once before in high school so I trust it will get better with time. I talked to the dentist and her assistant about it and they were so gentle and mindful with me during my time there yesterday asking me multiple times if I was ok, patting my shoulder, you poor girl, [pat, pat, pat]. At one point I had to go to the bathroom really bad and had quite the contraption holding my mouth open and a rubber dam covering it except for the teeth they were working on. The assistant said I don't want you to look in the mirror and scare yourself (smile). I indeed resembled two-faced Harvey from Dark Knight. I was so relieved to relieve myself that I didn't care. Just took a closer look and marveled at it all. All the pieces and the process.

Today I am the guest of the sun, moving my chair around outside the cafe to keep sitting in it's glory.

Time to wrap it up here and get back to retreat preparation. I am honored to be one of four people hosting 10 others on Whidbey Island this weekend for a Seeking and Listening Retreat. May I offer them as much spaciousness and kindness and encouragement as I've received this week.

Love to you all.

Yoga with Denise

2010-09-28T15:06:00.000-07:00

Means feeling like you can do anything including holding plank pose for a timed 60 seconds and smiling face down on the floor panting after that shaky accomplishment.

There's being up and then there's getting up

2010-09-24T17:03:00.001-07:00

I'm one of those folks that loves being up in the morning before the day really gets going. I got up just before 6 a.m. one day this week and walked through the neighborhood and the park to make my way to communion at 7 a.m.

Sweet bliss walking in the quiet. Once in awhile crossing paths with men walking their dogs, groups of women running - "on your right." Peeking into shops and seeing the woman at the Bagel Deli getting things in order, the baristas at the coffee shops preparing for the early risers and the rest of the day, delivery trucks at the grocery store. But, mostly quiet. People still in their beds or apartments, especially on the hill - this is not a neighborhood of morning go getters and me walking along hearing the sticks and leaves under my feet, my backpack moving around on my raincoat, sighing and smiling. The mornings in Seattle are pretty overcast, but there are those nice shades of blue grey.

I pretty much had the park to myself. Good morning all you beautiful trees and birds, flowers and dirt paths, still and moving waters. When I got to the end of the path through the park I turned around and bowed, kind of like John Cusack out in the street in Say Anything. Except I wasn't receiving silent ovation, I was expressing my gratitude. Thanks for being here, all the time.

If it's so enjoyable, if it's so life giving, if it's so damn la-la, why don't I just get up? I resist leaving my bed. I just lay there, sometimes awake for an hour or hours depending on the day of the week before I get up. I love waking up in bed. Curling up and settling in, rolling over to a new side, curling up, settling in. It's warm, so warm and soft. Good book or magazine nearby? The iPhone? Forgot it.

If I'm super honest though most days, not all days, but certainly most, it doesn't compare to those early morning hours walking, typing away at the coffee shop, doing yoga on the deck at Mercy Center, sitting at my dining table looking out the window or reading, stealing solo moments with friends and family, whispering prayers in the pews, standing in a circle around the altar serving each other the elements, feeling like I really entered into the world, I really lived today, held up my end of the conversation, made myself available for the unexpected, to receive hospitality. I was awake.

Didn't Know How Much I Needed That

2010-09-20T17:22:00.000-07:00

Spent a little over 24 hours with my sister this past weekend. It's taken me by surprise how good it feels to have her so close. I found myself getting really soft inside as the ferry approached the dock and seeing her wave at me down the way, both of us smiling big smiles and laughing when we caught up with each other. I thought I might start crying. I didn't, but it was close. And she let me hold her soft little hand for a little bit. I can be annoying with my affection and my need to talk things to death, but she's giving in a little (smile).

There's some kind of relief in me having her nearby, having family nearby. A celebration in me watching her life unfold and the timing of it all with the changes in my own life. I'm so thankful and in awe. I didn't know I needed this. It's pretty awesome to see and hear about the affects her simple, caring actions with my dad have had on his well being. To see her as a trained professional and watch her years of experience with children be put to use with Americorps. She's ready for this time and I love having a front row seat.

Went back to a meeting today that I haven't been to in almost 2 years. I've been resistant to going back and resentful if I'm honest. "One more thing I should do, one more prescription, I don't want to listen to all that, I don't need this, I've done enough. I'm doing enough. I've got a Spiritual Director, I've got a therapist, etc." As I was sitting there listening to people share it felt good to be there and I realized I was angry and on edge. I associate that place and those meetings with things falling apart, with admitting that things are not going well, not that things are going well and I want to maintain a healthy self and relationship(s). I associate that place with defeat and giving up instead of life giving surrender. Even though my own life was saved. I sit there and laugh, nod, mmm, and wrestle away inside. There's so much wisdom in that room and I don't agree with everything. I also like to do my surrendering in private thank you very much. Liberation is helping me work on that. There's so much wisdom in the program and it pisses me off. Will someone please share a story about things working out???

O wait, I'm not there to force my image of things working out on anyone or anything including myself. Maybe I should keep going back.

There they were, the little golden nuggets, as R. calls them, that I needed and didn't know I needed until I went. Sometimes I think something in me knows what I need, but I wrestle with myself until I'm worn out and the kingdom of God within me and around me wins, because that damn thing always has more staying power. The consistent non-anxious presence that's just waiting for me to be still. And there they all are waiting to receive me. To every thing there is a season. Who knows how long it will last, but this is a meeting season.

F*ing pride.

Grant us, O Lord, to trust in you with all our hearts; for, as you always resist the proud who confide in their own strength . . . .

Thank you, Robert. Didn't know I needed that nudge and digital comraderie. The highlighting of foolishness.

I realize now that one of the things I was just begging for I already received in a class I took earlier this year. The instructors had horror stories that resolved in reconciliation and fullness of Life with the people they were in the trenches with, how hopeful! How wise to have these role models teaching the class. Just remembered that sitting here. Didn't know that I had what I was looking for until I sat still and started writing this post yesterday. One of the sections in that book Sabbath is about wearing ourselves out being seekers. The author suggests maybe it's time to be a finder with what's already among us or as a Buddhist friend of mine says I think there comes a time when you have to stop searching and start practicing.

Sitting with my therapist last week and thanking her for believing in healing. I shared with a friend last week how meaningful it was for me to realize that I needed that. When I was meeting with K. the second time a few months ago I was asking her some questions about herself and she said I'm happy to answer these questions, but how do you think it would help you. I answered her that I guess I assumed that she believed in healing and I needed to know that she did. And she said, "O yes, I do. I do believe in healing." I keep thinking about this. She's been doing this for a long time with a lot of people and she still believes in healing. I've come to realize that part of my grief is knowing people that need to be healed and won't surrender or are not supported by society and don't receive the healing I think they need, that I can understand. So, when I'm there I believe in her belief, trusting her experience and I'm laying it down. I'm going to take special care to be mindful of the people I'm around and asking them this question if necessary. When I answer Jesus' question "do you want to be healed?" I want to answer in the trusting company of others and especially under the guidance of others who do believe. I want to ask that question of myself when I am serving as well. Do I believe this when I am "helping?"

I think it's good practice for me to say I don't know, not to fake not knowing, but when I really don't know to remind myself that I don't have to know everything right now. It will be revealed in time. Talking with K. last week I was telling her how sometimes I feel my whole body and mostly my mind squinting and leaning forward to see 1000 feet in front me. What's that wreckage up there? And I'm 1000 feet back trying to figure out what it's going to be and how to avoid it. Turns out there might not be any wreckage up ahead at all and I'm missing out on where I am right now while I'm squinting away, craning away, possibly manufacturing the wreckage, trying to see the future. What a relief.

Went to Mass at St. Ignatius. Started crying as the liturgy began. I'm not Catholic, but I am catholic. Tears of relief, familiarity thinking of Mercy Center, and sadness that while I am a member of the body of Christ, the human family, I am an outsider of some sorts there. I took a blessing today instead of bread at communion. I'll be honest, sometimes I just take communion, but today I wanted a hand on my forehead more than bread. The priest had the nicest smile. I don't remember what he said, but it felt good to be blessed. Needed that more than I thought. Bolted out of my apartment today leaving my bed stripped and laundry undone. It can wait. I needed that.

I am blessed by this time which I knew was needed on some level, that to stay at work would be malpractice as a friend of Sarah MK's says, but I had no idea how much I needed the fullness and emptying of this time. And I'm grateful holding the knowledge that it is a privilege, that not everyone who needs this kind of time gets it! I pray to live it well.

It's awesome and I am laying down some things. I'm having trouble getting to sleep and staying awake some nights clinging to other things. I have an image in my head of walking up to the altar and giving up one small stone at a time. Meanwhile the invitation is to leave it all there the whole damn pile, the whole quarry, all of it, all of me.

May it be so. It's not all about me anyway. A post for another time.

Checking Things Off the List

2010-09-16T17:00:00.001-07:00

Went out to happy hour with my old co-workers and R. last night. Roger or Rachel asked me how my days have been this week not coming to work, I looked at them and down the table and asked "Honestly?"

"It's been Awesome!"

And it has.

It really has. I've been hitting the Ibuprofen pretty hard after some doctor and dentist appointments I'm trying to cram in before the end of the month, but I've also been hitting the yoga studio and neighborhood coffee shops. Sitting side by side and talking with R. in the dark holding hands and catching up with each other.

I had lunch with Pastor D. on Tuesday and when our food came I asked if we could just have some silence. So we held hands across the table and bowed our heads. We sat there for a bit and when we raised our heads and grabbed our chopsticks he said "been to see Suzanne lately?" I answered "yes, just this morning." "I can feel her, the air is thick. Mmhm." I watched how our conversation slowed down and the topic changed. We sat there for almost two hours together.

I feel like that inside - slowed down, daily topics and concerns changing, and I feel grateful. So grateful for this time. And that Life waited for me to get here. Unafraid and pretty damn confident that the change I'm making is right for me and for the project I was working on and the office and profession I'm leaving. I pray I left well and I think I did. Love those people.

So the rest of September looks a lot like this week more health appointments and getting things in place for the coming months. I applied for catastrophic health coverage, wrote and asked my allergist to prescribe me a back up inhaler, did some neglected personal e-mail clean up and follow up, etc.

October will be focused on getting some things in place for what's ahead (resume, etc) and tending to some retreat leading commitments, and continuing to slow down.

November is a Pilgrimage month. I'm heading to the other coast to see and spend some slow time my best friend and her love at their new home on the Cape. I'll work my way west towards Michigan stopping a couple other places along the way to visit other friends in new places. And then time with my mom and my stepdad, my dad, and perhaps some others in the Great Lake state.

December is a cast the net wide month. Not to mention Advent Season, more sitting still in the dark, catching up with my tradition and my community here, and the world.

Well, I just got the closing in 5 minutes warning. I guess I'll go now.

Real quick - I'm reading a book I'm LOVING right now called Sabbath by Wayne Muller. Highly recommend.

Love to you all,

Cleaning Up

2010-09-06T14:07:00.000-07:00

The picture above is one of the things I've made this weekend from the Farmers Market fixings that I'm proud of - a virgin mojito. Yum! Lime juice, a little sugar, Fresh Mint, sparkling water. It's keeping me company at work this afternoon while I'm cleaning up.

This coming Friday is my last full time day at work. We're slowing down and a third of the staff has been laid off in one way or another. Some of us voluntarily, some of us not voluntarily. I was in the voluntary pool. I'm excited and I'm sad. I'm energized and I'm tired. I feel affirmed, more and more everyday, that I've made the right decision for myself and it's hard having so many goodbyes. We've been lucky, really very fortunate in the past two years to have mostly avoided the reality several other firms, businesses, families, and individuals have been dealing with for awhile.

I'm down to just over 2,000 e-mails to be filed in project folders before I go and then on to the paper piles. I heard from someone this weekend that over the course of a year we spend the equivalent of a full work week managing our inboxes and I can attest to that. It's taking a chunk of time. My butt hurts sitting here and my eyes are glazing over.

I plan and look forward to getting back to the weekly postings next week. I'll write more about what I hope for in the coming weeks and beyond.

Another thing I'm looking forward to is having/making more time for slower meals at home. It's such a rich feeling coming home from the Farmers Market and then sharing it with others - meeting Julia in the alley with a personal nectarine, blackberry, blueberry galette, testing out roasted peppers with goat cheese on R. (thumbs down from R., more for me), leaving muffins for the couple down the hall who just had a baby, feeling thankful to have the time, the neighbors, and the food.

I pray to be kind with others around here this week and mindful of where I am, who I've been fortunate to share time and good work with, and what I'd like to leave here when I go.

Sweet, Sunny Morning

2010-08-13T13:38:00.001-07:00

Morning, friends. I got the sweet spot this morning. A table inside next to an outlet with the window wide open and the sun coming up all over me.

I spent 9 hours at Sue's house on Saturday. First sharing stories and songs for the Ordinary Time prayer breakfast and then just hanging with Sue. It felt like a real summer afternoon being hot in the shade talking with her on and off, watching the white curtains blow and so many bees in the flowers.

Here's a poem that's been on my mind as work's been slowing down and I'm choosing how to spend some of my August days. If I'd written this poem I think I'd title it Privilege, but I didn't, Alice Walker did and she titled it Grace.

Grace

Grace
Gives me a day
Too beautiful
I had thought
To stay indoors
& yet
Washing my dishes
Straightening
My Shelves
Finally
Throwing out
The Wilted
Onions
Shrunken garlic
Cloves
I discover
I am happy
To be inside
Looking out.
this, I think,
Is wealth.
Just this choosing
Of how
A beautiful day
Is spent.

- by Alice Walker

Thank you for hosting another beautiful summer gathering, Sue. We relax in your hospitality.

Writing Down the Bones

2010-07-16T14:43:00.000-07:00

This book found me via a line on Sara B's blog earlier this month and then in a forward to a book that I received as a gift and peaking out a me a couple months ago from the shelves at Elliott Bay Bookstore.

What is it with this book?

Well, I got it from the library this week and now I know. It's like food and Ms. Goldberg's been talking about how "it's all compost" for about 20 years longer than I have. Perfect timing. Thank you universe and the public library.

"We make [a] choice with our feet firmly planted on the ground. We are not running wildly after beauty with fear at our backs."

We are not running wildly after beauty with fear at our backs.

[groan from the pews]

I don't want to be running wildly after beauty looking for the eject button from this month's reality with fear at my back.

Packing up and moving on to the next coffee shop or home to read the bones for awhile.

"To become something new we must consciously do something different than we have been doing. That's why we have the Sabbath and rest and leisure."

Thank you, Sister Chittister.

Amen.

This time last year

2010-07-16T12:34:00.001-07:00

This time last year it was sunny in California and warm. I spent July 2009 at Mercy Center doing an internship in the Art of Spiritual Direction with people from all over the country and from several countries around the world. I loved it. Loved it. It was the most life giving month. I felt so at home and unfastened, so cared for and exposed. I miss it. I miss the people and the place - the labyrinth, the oak trees, the wooded paths, the creek, the birds, the chapel, the dining room, the little rooms, yoga before breakfast on the outdoor patio, looking out my bedroom window to the eucalyptus trees and the sunrise, looking down at the patio and seeing Jim drying his clothes outside, the runners coming to breakfast sweaty, Sister Mary Ellen sitting alone at a table with her eyes intensely closed at our silent breakfasts (I think she was praying for us), singing, laughing at meals with Brother Mark, walking outside in the sun, swimming in the afternoons, nervous pulse rates during fish bowls, rushing to type daily verbatims during the home retreat week, meeting Theresa in the hallway after said rushing for our daily supervision appointments and exchanging pieces of chocolate and a hug, praying a hundred different ways, Eucharist, shedding quite a few tears, and filling journals.

I've felt achey in my body a couple times this past week when I've remembered being there and what I was doing everyday and who I was being this time last year. That's kind of a crazy sentence, as if I could be anyone other than myself. But, I did feel more like myself and utterly living to the beat of a different drum. Especially when the suns out, I can almost feel being there.

Who wouldn't love having their meals prepared for them everyday and no bathrooms to clean? It was a charmed month. I don't think I could type it all here. All the things I learned, all the precious people I met, and precious, old friends that I spent time with on the weekend breaks. I might write more about it in the coming weeks if it remains on my mind.

Last summer on the Friday of my birthday weekend we sat outside on the dining patio and shared our evening hours before the weekend break telling birthday stories and laughing really hard and sighing a little bit too. A couple of my new friends took a white table cloth of a nearby table and wrapped it around me, a makeshift cape after hearing that I wanted a cape like Batman.

Lest I recreate the month to be all sunshine I was looking a picture of me this morning at the beach close to the end of the Mercy Center month wrapped in a towel because I was cold, just like today.

I came home high on Mercy Center and high on a weekend with my best friend. Shell pulled back. Still. Hopeful. Full of feelings. Full of Vitamin D. I received 3 prescriptions from the Holy Spirit that month.

One of them was beat me over the head clear the other two were nudges that I resisted for awhile. I realize today that I did fill them, all three.

1. Find a worshipping community. All that singing, praying, and Eucharist softened me to the point that I realized it's essential place in my life. Enter Liberation. I didn't need to shop around I knew where I wanted to go and the kick in the ass from the Holy Spirit finally got me there.

Pause for months of slug slow ass motion and resistance. "I'll just do it on my own and think about it for awhile." And then,

2. Find a therapist - check.

3. Visit Seattle U's School of Theology and Ministry - check. No decisions made, but I'm glad I went. I know for sure that I won't be doing the MATS degree and got some clarity about what I would do if I went there and some new options. Told my friend Kelly last week maybe I was inching my way towards seminary and she said "I wish you would just plow your way there." It's good to have exhausted of my process friends in my life to give me a loving shove once in awhile. Currently seeking ways to get there without a $100k price tag.

It's a process not an event. R. loves to remind me that I love this phrase and maybe I should think about it for my own life instead of craving relief and escape.

Working on my willingness to take suggestions and my willingness to leave what I know for the unknown. It's time.

It's been quite a year, an amazing year. When I reflect on all the things I've been invited to do and surprised with since last July I'm almost tearfully thankful - retreat leader, retreat co-leader, wedding officiant, spiritual director, jury member, best friend, godmother, friend, daughter, sister, girlfriend, lover, volunteer, witness, participant, communion celebrant, prayer, singer. I learned what it is to set love free and experience it coming back to me with no guarantees. I've been invited to be me over and over again, every single day, moment by moment.

Strangely, but not surprisingly, I'm not feeling like myself this past month. Again, crazy sentence, this is me, this is my life. Now that the deadline has passed, but the work that remains to be done hasn't, I sit at my desk and find myself just staring at my computer monitor with adrenaline fatigue. Surveying the piles of paper around me and needing to rev up for the next push and waiting for the cliffs edge that we keep hearing about where the work falls off drastically. Wishing that I could share the work with all of my architect friends who NEED work and a paycheck, who'd give anything to have some meaty work to bite in to. Thankful to have today off from work. I was hoping the sun would be my date for the day, but alas it's a sweater and coffee shops instead. Not too bad at all. And praying for the energy and focus to dive in and finish what needs to be done instead of wasting time whining about it.

Miss you Kelly and Anita. Miss you Sisters and Priests, nurses and teachers, Brothers and Jesuits, miss you quiet Buddha in the garden, miss you Heather and San Francisco, miss you Glenda, miss you warm bright sun, miss you, Emily. Come home soon. I'll keep my eyes open for you on the yoga mat and in the pews, at the parks and in the coffee shops, with your friends and in the quiet times.

Don't be afraid.

God's heart is as big as the ocean.

Lie back.

Let go.

Thanks for the pictures, Julia. Remembering our sweet days in San Francisco at the end of the month and the day that we found this labyrinth in particular. I know we were pinching each other.

So close...

2010-07-11T23:00:00.000-07:00

11 pm the night before the big deadline day. Wrapping up the work for today and heading for some sleep before the frenzy which will be tomorrow.

Been trying to be present wherever I happen to be at the moment these past few weeks and I've been a lot of places. It's kind of amazing how much can get done and be appreciated when I just focus, really focus on whatever is in front of me. I wasn't always succesful and R. can attest to some grumpy, snappy moments, but I was trying. Looking forward to sitting down and sharing some of it real soon after I do some laundry, clean out out the frig, get my haircut, and basically just tend to my life outside of my work pod. Priority number one - sit outside with a wide brimmed hat on and soak up some of this beautiful sun.

Last night I was in a friend's beautiful backyard being celebrated with some other July birthdays. Walked to work in my crown today, next to my boyfriend Max (read R.) in his crown, trying to stretch the celebration a little further before he hugged me goodbye outside this old, beautiful brick building.

Grateful that I have a job, grateful for my paycheck and health insurance, my co-workers, my boss that was here all weekend with me, all my friends in that backyard last night, Sue and Sarah doing all the behind the scenes work to make last evening possible, my sweet ass boyfriend doing a load of my laundry for me so I could have clean underwear this week, for my health and fully functioning body, that Lord willing I'll see my mom, stepdad, and sister pretty damn soon, that deadlines come and go, and the list goes on and on.

Good night, everyone. Sweet dreams.

Deadlines

2010-06-27T15:27:00.000-07:00

It is I who must begin....

Once I begin, once I try -

here and now,

right where I am,

not excusing myself

by saying that things

would be easier elsewhere,

without grand speeches and

ostentatious gestures,

but all the more persistently

-to live in harmony

with the "voice of Being," as I

understand it within myself

-as soon as I begin that,

I suddenly discover,

to my surprise, that

I am neither the only one,

nor the first,

nor the most important one

to have set out

upon that road....

Whether all is really lost

or not depends entirely on

where or not I am lost....

-Vaclav Havel

from Life Prayers

I've got a couple of big work deadlines on the same day. Thankfully July 12th will come and go. That gives me some peace and surrendering to working a little more between now and then instead of fighting it. There's a few nice things scattered in these next two weeks too. I'm officiating a wedding for a friend this weekend, R's birthday is coming up and I'm taking the day off work, and we've got a joint garden party birthday bash at a dear friend's house soon.

I've been working on my Working Sabbath protocol and plan to invoke for July and August as a start. So far that means no jail for the next couple of months and taking a break from a couple of monthly commitments. I'll continue to develop that after my deadlines pass.

Continuing to pray for those looking for meaningful, living wage work and those trying to get well and the communities surrounding them. Praying for those who appear to have given up trying and those of us who witness and grieve that apparent reality. Praying also for people working in places where there's not enough people left to do the work that needs to be done. Praying as R. does for matched needs. That the people that need each other gifts, talents, and resources will find each other in a timely, mutual fashion.

Praying for my friends as they enter into marriage later this week.

I saw this slug a week ago at a sweet outdoor wedding for some friends of R's. When I saw it I did an elf stop and sigh. So happy to see another friend. R. says "don't you have enough slug pictures?" and then sweetly moves it out of the pedestrian pathway after the photo shoot. It's funny to me how I'm seeing slugs in the city this year. I didn't notice them before.

Miss you

2010-06-17T09:05:00.000-07:00

Good morning. I miss you. I miss being here. I'll be back soon. Prayers for all those searching for meaningful, paying work and for all those trying to get well.

A question

2010-06-03T19:23:00.000-07:00

How do you have a Sabbatical, not leave town, and still work? This is the question of the hour after Suzanne recommended that I think about it. I haven't felt like talking much lately and I'm tired and forgetting things. So I'm contemplating taking a Sabbatical this summer from e-mails and phone calls, planning and joining, volunteering and signing up. Just not sure how to do it and not leave town.

I guess I'll just have to claim it if I want it and practice "no, thank you" being a complete sentence. Who wants that long ass justifying explanation anyway? Not me.

Here's a poem from our poet laureate, Kay Ryan, called Doubt. Thank you to my co-worker Sarah K. for introducing me to her.

A chick has just so much time
to chip its way out, just so much
egg energy to apply to the weakest spot
or whatever spot it started at.
It can't afford doubt. Who can?
Doubt uses albumen
at twice the rate of work.
One backward look by any of us
can cost what it cost Orpheus.
Neither may you answer
the stranger's knock;
you know it is the Person from Porlock
who eats dreams for dinner,
his napkin stained the most delicate colors.

Shedding the Literal Shell

2010-05-28T07:36:00.000-07:00

Found this slug outside after the Celebration of Life/Memorial service on Wednesday. Hello, beautiful. Maybe it's a snail? To me it looks like a slug still carrying that beautiful chambered nautilus shell around. Not quite to full slug status yet. This week I'm celebrating being at a midway point too. I went to the doctor Monday morning and cheered out loud while I was on the scale. I've lost 32 pounds over the past two years. I've been to the doctor more than once in the pass two years and watched the numbers go down, but this time I dipped under 200 pounds. That feels like an accomplishment. Slowly, but surely. Little changes, mindfulness. Sticking with it. Paying attention to my feelings. The yoga mat, the yoga mat, the yoga mat. And not trying to do it all at once. I don't even have a numeric goal in mind. However I do know that I have 41 more pounds to go if I want to move into the healthy weight zone on the BMI chart. First stop, just plain overweight and not obese. I'm not there yet.

Separating with R. a couple years ago really woke me up. I had to shed a couple thick layers of denial about myself, R., and our relationship. He's always sharing little recovery gems with me from the program/fellowship and here's one of them: "Denial is self-acceptance run riot." Oooo, that hits close to home. It really hit me hard how I let my self care go during round 1 of our relationship. Now I pay attention to my eating that way I pay attention to pain. It's tells me things and a lot of times it's not that I'm hungry. It's the usual suspects - feelings that I'm avoiding - boredom, confusion, hurt, disappointment, nervousness, excitement, exhaustion from lack of sleep and rest, forcing myself to do things I don't want to do, treating myself for doing those things. I don't always stop what I'm eating even when I realize why, but I am more clued in. And now in round 2, R. and I sometimes go to yoga together, take more walks, talk more, eat less, sit in silence, sing and sway in church for 2 hours at a time.

I wrote a letter to my yoga teachers at Seattle Yoga Arts last summer before I left for my summer internship in Spiritual Direction. I'm going to post it below because I still feel the same way. Full of gratitude and like I have a new home that I carry with me. A different shell so to speak. A literal and figurative yoga mat where I can bring anything, absolutely anything and let my body feel it completely and challenge and/or be gentle with myself. Listen. Give me back to myself and offer a healthier self to God and the world.

I forget this, but sleep and rest are important parts of weight loss. At least it has been for me. I'm sorry for all you mothers. I actually have control over my sleep schedule and this week I've been putting myself to bed by 10:00 pm most nights and waking up naturally around 6 or 6:15 sleeping like a baby, like a rock. And I've noticed I'm eating less during the day and at night. Except last night I took a looonnnggg ass bath and got out of the tub after 10. Lately that room and tub is like my little reading chamber. Nice and warm, encompassing. And then I played scrabble on my iPhone until my eyes wouldn't stay open. Oops. And I'm laughing this morning because I bought a plain sesame seed bagel on my walk to work and then came over to Victrola and bought myself a plain croissant forgetting I bought a bagel less than 5 minutes ago. I put my hand in my pocket to get my head phones out and felt this big lump and laughed looking at la luna next to my iced tea. I'm cracking myself up typing about it. Pray for me. :)

I've been here before in this middle place and I made it to the healthy place. I lost 50 pounds several years ago and then proceeded to gain it all back a few years later. It's never too late to try again. It's never too late to choose Life.

I believe in saying thank you and acknowledging what people and places mean to me. Thank you Seattle Yoga Arts. I'll be continuing to write about you and sing your praises. You mean a lot to me.

Thank you, Julia. She's been going to SYA for a decade or more and was my first exposure to the studio. Then she became my partner in crime at 6:45 a.m. We're not doing that crazy shit anymore, but we're still on the mats next to each other at a more reasonable hour, cheering each other on. You're a gem.

.........................................

06.27.2009

Denise, Lisa, Beth, and all the other teachers of the SYA community,

Sitting at my table with a cold and thinking if I can’t be at class I can at least write up this thank you note I’ve been thinking about.

I’ve been meeting once a month with a spiritual director for a few years. Lately we’ve been starting our meetings with Lectio Divina with the gospels. In Lectio Divina you spend a fair amount of time just sitting in silence and seeing what arises. Last month we used the section in the gospel of Luke about The Wise and Foolish Builders. The phrase dug down deep from Luke 6:46 – She is like a woman building a house, who dug down deep and laid the foundation on rock, stood out to me. Suzanne asked me what’s helping you dig down deep and my automatic response was yoga. I had just come off of a week where I had attended my usual 2 classes and a makeup class with Denise. I heard such empowering, encouraging messages that week. From Lisa “I want to see everyone trying so hard that you’re falling out of the pose”, from Beth “Let’s talk about Namaste – it doesn’t mean thanks for class, see you next week – in it’s condensed version it means I see you…I see you…I see you”, from Denise “There are no failures in yoga, there are no failures in yoga.” I just sat there beaming at Suzanne. We’ve talked about yoga a lot this past year. It’s been a rich teacher and comfort for me.

I’ve been attending classes Seattle Yoga Arts since 2006 I think. I hung out in Denise’s Wednesday night gentle class for a couple of years hearing a bunch of good messages and marking time. I would call this my first yoga gestating period, I’m sure there will be others. Not quite ready to leave the womb yet. I tried a couple of workshops and the one that really planted some seeds was Meg’s moving into meditation. I was real hesitant to go, but I made it. I did all three classes and what Meg had to say about the mat being a place to bring and sit with things resonated.

I experienced a loss last summer and I didn’t really want to talk about it with a lot of folks, but I did experience a stirring to take it to the mat so to speak. So I asked Julia if she’d be interested in adding the Monday 7 am class to her routine and I started walking past her place at 6:45 am on Mondays. I thought I would not continue with that class. Shannon’s class was really challenging for me. My hands were sweating, I felt like throwing up, my legs were shaking. I remember saying to Julia one morning I don’t think this time is working for me. Maybe I need to try another evening class. But, I loved being at the studio in the quiet with a small group of people, practicing in a circle, hearing from Shannon “bow to the self, offer your heart to community, be your own soul mate” and that first class I took from her we worked our way through a beautiful poem line by line. And so I had a little talk with myself – go to bed earlier and try telling yourself a different message like “I’m getting stronger” So I wrote “I’m getting stronger” on a sticky note and posted it on my computer monitor at work and kept going to class. And by the end of that first class I decided it was time to leave gentle Wednesday and I added Lisa’s morning class on Wednesdays. I also did the winter intensive and the New Year’s class this past year. So amazing to compare 2007’s Gratitude practice with the New Year’s class and see my improvement in strength, stamina, and grace for myself – acceptance of where I am and commitment to practice, to not abandon myself.

Now I’m off on Saturday to do a month long internship in Spiritual Direction. I’ll be gone from the hood for a spell this summer, but I’m packing my yoga strap and Lisa’s stick figure drawings to take with me. I’ve signed myself up for the summer intensive as a motivator while I’m away and something to look forward to when I return.

I am deeply grateful for the studio’s presence in my neighborhood and the words you speak into our lives in class and via e-mail poems and newsletters. My sacrum, my lungs, my shoulders, my spine, and my quads thank you too.

Nothing Will Be Hidden

2010-05-26T08:36:00.000-07:00

Luke 8: 16-18

"No one lights a lamp and hides it in a jar or puts it under a bed.

Instead, he puts it on a stand, so that those who come in can see the light.

For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed,

and nothing concealed that will not be known or brought out into the open.

Therefore consider carefully how you listen. Whoever has will be given more;

whoever does not have, even what he thinks he has will be taken from him."

This gives me comfort like nothing else can. I'm clinging to it these days. Reminding myself over and over again that there's nothing for me to figure out. I don't need to shake, I need to pray to stay awake, I need to be willing to surrender, and I need to make room for the light. If I'm rushing around trying to force things to be a certain way or shout at the Truth to come to light - I'm inviting shadows, hiding, and anxiety.

Yesterday, R and I had a conversation that spooked me. Someone is not being fully honest and I don't know who it is. I hate dishonesty. I detest it. It makes my skin crawl and I want to shake it off of me. I don't care if it's about something as stupid as a chocolate bar. I don't want it around me - even a hint of it. And it reminds me of being lied to in heartbreaking ways that I don't want to return to. I've been gullible since I was a child and I don't want to return to the old ways.

So I go back to the gospel, I go back to my teachers and I remind myself to stay with my feelings and stop chasing the details. I can hear Sara B. saying when people lie that's on them. It's not my job to figure it out, my calling is to stay with how I feel, to not get distracted from what my body is telling me. And yesterday I felt gross. I didn't want to be touched and I didn't feel like talking. For a Five on the enneagram having knowledge kept from me feels like torture. Knowledge and the belief that I can see through anything is my false rock. So this is also my teacher, to acknowledge that I can't "see through", but I will be seen through this if I don't block the light. Again the call to live with contradiction - that I may never know the details, but I will know in a big sense deep in my gut what is right for me, what is life giving eventually.

Truth will lead to more truth, Light will lead to more Light, darkness will lead to more darkness. God is in the room, Jesus is shining a light, and the Holy Spirit is whispering so I will quiet myself and listen.

Be still.

What a relief.

---------------

Praying for all of the work places where the Truth needs to come to light, people need to be heard, issues squarely addressed and thankful for all the people that help to make that happen in a non-destructive way, although things may fall apart it doesn't have to be vicious. Thank you Sarah, Shannon, and all the other Organization Development consultants of the world.

Getting Naked with God, Ourselves, and Each Other

2010-05-26T08:05:00.000-07:00

Friends,

Here's Proclamation No.3, not edited for privacy. No need. However, it could have used some heavy editing before delivery on Sunday. Too long, too many ideas. You might not believe this if you read it, but I cut half of my ideas already to get what's below. I had the opposite experience of idea block, I had idea flood and was hoping for some clarity and gravity in the days before. I really enjoy the process even if it wakes me up at 3:30 am the night before. I feel a mixture of anxiety and excitement. A process of gathering up and letting go. A longing to be used and a practice of learning it's not about me. The picture of above is of R's hands and our table at Presse satisfying some after church hunger as Sarah MK calls it. I want to give a shout out to this man who ironed my shirt on Sunday morning and made me a little snack lunch and did the dishes and gave me a couple of peps talks the night before - "It's not an audition, babe. They already like you. You could totally blow it and they'd still invite you back." Nothing like having my own personal cheering section.

And thanks to Pastor Darrell and my sister too. Calling and texting before and after. Very sweet and does not go unnoticed. JV, Shannon, and Erik were in the pews along with R. Loved looking out and seeing their faces. Several people in the church, about 75% of the people in the pews left on Sunday after my sermon. Quite different than my last experience. It's still not about me, right? (smile.) The Leadership Team did a great job of following up with me - thank you, Marlon, Tamara, and JT.

I want to do more of this and I want to get better at it. This longing is giving me fuel for some other things that are less than comfortable. Learning to shake the dust off of my feet as Jesus instructs and keep moving.

Going to a funeral today. Someone I met through Multifaith Works. Praying for his family. Mindful of their loss and the road ahead and the road behind them.

Peace to you all on this rainy day.

...........................

NAKED BEFORE GOD, OURSELVES, AND EACH OTHER
Pentecost Sunday

May 23, 2010

Liberation Ministries

Hello, church. I’d like to acknowledge my sister praying for me in Michigan - she was left off the list last time and she let me know about it. [laughing] And I’d like to recognize my friends who are here today - John, Shannon, and Erik. Thank you, Liberation, for hosting me at the pulpit again. While I’m up here I’d like to thank you for your hospitality when I was up here in April. You all were so gracious and generous with me. It meant so much to me to preach here and have you hear my story. Thank you for listening to me - really listening to me and for literally cheering me on. [This section cut for privacy]. I was not left where I was found, [x] was not left where [x] was found. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Holy Spirit. Thank you, human effort. Thank you, surrender. Life is good right now and I don’t want to pretend that it isn’t.

When Darrell asked me to preach on May 23 I said yes, not knowing it would be Pentecost. Nor did I know Darrell’s theme for the month would be “Get Naked” and he would announce to you all last week that I’d be preaching this week on getting spiritually naked with God. That’s no small order. And while this whitey who doesn’t speak in tongues is a little intimidated, I’m also humbled and honored. Up for the challenge. I sincerely pray what I share today will be meaningful to you.

Please join me in a moment of silence.

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be pleasing unto you O God, my creator, my strength and my redeemer. Empty me of my ego that I may know it’s not about me standing up here. Empty us that we may hear you.

I’d like to start in the Garden of Eden and make our way to Pentecost. We’ll get there, but I want to go back to garden and talk about nakedness, the loss of innocence, covering up, and the need to get naked again. Naked with God, Naked with Ourselves, and Naked with Each other. What that means, how we might get naked again, and why we’d want to do it in the first place.

Last week Pastor Darrell talked about physical nakedness and care for our bodies. He asked us to imagine that God was in the room with us all the time. Every time we have sex with someone, every time we’re eating, every time we’re using our drugs of choice, every time we’re having a conversation, every time we’re spending money, etc. God is with us all day all the time. And more than imagine, if we believe this to be true - that God is everywhere, within all livings things and in the spaces between all living things, we need to do more than imagine it, we need to acknowledge it and ask ourselves are am I comfortable with the fact that God is with me right now? that Jesus is with me right now? Am I honoring my body? Am I respecting and honoring any other bodies with me? Am I listening and paying attention to that feeling in my gut that tells me this isn’t a good idea, this is harmful? Do we acknowledge God whispering or at times shouting ”you’re abusing yourself, you don’t have to do this. stop. be still. choose life.” or that that feeling and sensation in my gut that tells me - This is life giving. My body is thanking me. I’m not going to regret this. I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

It’s the same with our souls and really we can’t separate them. I can’t separate them and I’m preaching from the perspective that our bodies are good, that our bodies are beautiful, that sex and intimacy is an amazing gift - sacred, but not taboo, that I’m not going to wait to be free of this body to have union with God. I believe that our bodies are one way to life giving union with the Divine. That we, these bodies, we are God carriers as Desmond Tutu says. What we do for and with our bodies affects our souls and what we do for our souls affects our bodies and the decisions we make we them. I like being on this earth and I want my soul to live fully while I’m here, not just later.

So let’s go back to the garden. To our mythical ancestors. I’m also preaching from a place where I don’t need this creation story to be scientifically true and some of the language scares me and offends me, but I believe there is Truth, capital T truth in this story also. Life giving Truth that’s worth sitting with and building on.

Genesis 2: 25 The man and the woman were both naked, and they felt no shame.

We started naked and we felt no shame.

Genesis 3: 1-7, 22 Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the Lord God made. He said to the woman, “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden?” The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, but God did say, ‘You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.’” “You will not surely die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

When the woman saw the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed figs leaves together and made coverings for themselves.

Moving on, later in chapter 3.

The Lord God made garments of skin for the man and the woman and clothed them.

And the Lord God said, “The man and woman have now become like one of us, knowing good and evil.”

My bible calls this story “The Fall of Man.” I don’t see it that way. I would title it “Becoming Fully Human.” I heard a Rabbi preach one time about how he thinks God put that tree there and said not to eat it on purpose - knowing we would. And also the serpent didn’t exactly lie. All these years I’ve been hearing about this evil little creature and preparing for this sermon I realized that’s not necessarily true. Yes, now we would die, now we would suffer knowing pain and we would rejoice in the goodness of life, but the serpent also told the truth - our eyes will be opened and we will be like God. Notice it doesn’t say we would be God, it says we would be like God. And God confirms this later in the chapter. Now you are like us, knowing the difference between good and evil. Cracks me up that in this story, from the very beginning, we wouldn’t let God be God. We wanted wisdom and the free will to use it OR NOT USE IT. I read this story and think we chose that, we weren’t tricked into it. We wanted a piece of the Divine and we got it. We were naked and we felt no shame, we saw the Tree of Life and we swallowed the fruits of the Great Spirit into our bodies , our eyes were opened and I believe we were given a gift, not a sin, a gift - we were given the knowledge of the difference between good and evil, right and wrong, life and death, and bodies and minds and spirits to go with and use this knowledge and we covered ourselves up. We covered ourselves. We shied away from this knowledge of ourselves and each other. We became self conscious. We lost our innocence. The man looks at the woman and the woman looks at the man and I imagine they realize and they think to themselves - The God in me sees the God in you and it scares us, the responsibility is overwhelming. We didn’t turn into evil creatures, we become aware that our lives are our own and we are carriers of God. We are God’s partners. I believe this can happen in every relationship afterwards where intimacy of any kind exists- sexual, emotional, intellectual, or spiritual - God willing, all of the above - wherever true Intimacy occurs where we’re willing to slow down, to be naked shining the divine light that lives within us, and truly look at ourselves and another person, to really see the other’s divine light - woman to woman, man to man, woman to man, human being to human being, human to the Divine, Divine to human. It’s a rare moment, holy ground, but it’s a gift given to us and it’s worth cultivating to see that in ourselves and other people. Choosing life for ourselves and being an ally to others choosing life for themselves depends on it. Life depends on us shedding the skins that diffuse and that divine light that dwells within us and Life depends on us working to acknowledge and release it in others.

And notice how God meets us where we are making garments of skin to soften our exposure. God can’t save us from the fully human life and I picture God shaking God’s metaphorical head and says well here we are, can’t go back, but I’ll be with you going forward. I’ll cloth you, I’ll shelter you, I’ll give you food, sun, and rain. And although it isn’t written and there’s no directive I hear God saying to us “Please choose life. Please see yourselves. Please see each other.” And God weeps with us when we don’t. From dust you came and to dust you will return, but I’ll be with you.

Each of us was born in a Garden and we might not choose to call it Eden, but maybe we would. For some of us it was a battleground. Somewhere along the way we lost our innocence. For some it was way too early, for some it came later. But, surely all of us lost it at some point or at least our innocence was bruised and as children or adults we started to cover our divine nature or truest selves, our souls. We developed survival skills as children that helped us to do just that - survive. Here our some of the ways we protect ourselves maybe you’ll recognize yourself in one our more of them: Some of us monitor our reactions, some repress our own feelings, some over identify with others - ignoring ourselves, some channel it into art, some withdraw, some project, some rationalize, deny, some of us numb ourselves. And for all of these things I say thank you. For all of these things we should be saying thank you, because as children and young adults it got us through. We’re sitting here in the pews today. Thank you, tools to survive. Thank you to the folks in our lives who kept reminding us who we were, who we are, who encouraged us to not give up, who led us to living water, and said here drink from this well, thank you for moments of Grace and the Divine light breaking through. However, most of us sitting here in the pews now are adults and we don’t need these tools anymore. We still need our allies, but we don’t need these coping mechanisms. What was once a survival skill is now a character defect. These skills are keeping us from fullness of life, are keeping us from healing and wholeness, are keeping us from shining our Divine Light, living out our calling and by the way everyone has one - not just pastors. We are called. We don’t need to be ashamed of who we are. We don’t need to be ashamed of who we are. We don’t need to cover ourselves. We can hand over the things we’ve done to ourselves and others that we are ashamed of. The kingdom of God is within us. We are filled with the potential of the Divine. Nothing is impossible. You are loved. We are loved.

When we hold on to these survival skills after childhood we choose a little death everyday. We choose to rely on what is known, what is comfortable, familiar. We don’t want to feel that kind of pain again so we let fear control us. We don’t want to let go and surrender.

We don’t want to rely on God and maybe we should pause and ask who is our God anyway? A great bible study question from Wednesday. If I had more time today I would talk more about this. It’s too scary to be truly intimate with someone we don’t know, it’s too hard to trust someone or some thing we’re afraid of. It’s hard to be naked. If we are like the couple at the restaurant Pastor Darrell described last week. Sitting across from God. No really listening, not seeing the other person.

So let’s picture ourselves at the table with God, this is the Lord’s table, a radically open table, everyone is welcome. Are we not paying attention? Are we looking everywhere around the room except into the eyes of the Divine? Are we filling the conversation with meaningless conversation? Complaining constantly? Telling God how tired we are running around doing all our important things. All the things we’re worried about. Focusing on the menu, agonizing over what we’re going to order. And trying to figure how we’re going to feed ourselves? Whoever your God is and maybe God’s a gender bender like Bentley claimed and suggested on Wednesday night and maybe God isn’t personified for you at all? Maybe God for you is silence. Maybe God for you is the Spirit that infuses all life. Perhaps God for you is in nature and you want to be sitting at a river’s edge, on a mountain, at the beach, under a tree. Maybe God is the potential of a blank canvas, a good conversation, telling the Truth in love, the yoga mat, kneeling at the altar. Maybe like Desmund Tutu, you believe that “at the center of this existence is a heart beating with Love.” Picture yourself with your God, where you feel most comfortable, where you feel most safe and at ease. Picture your thin plan where the human and the Divine meet. And if you don’t have one of these places that’s very honest just sit with that longing, with that desire. Our souls are shy, they are skiddish and they are filled with light. Do not be afraid. One good way to get naked, to shed our protective shells is to be honest. To be curious, to peak out from our hiding places. To admit we don’t know, to acknowledge our desires, to risk what it means to surrender and swallow the divine, to swallow the fruit, to swallow and shine the light. Sometimes I sit in the quiet and I ask these questions or speak honestly of my feelings to the empty room, to myself, to the God within me, to the God outside of me, to the Holy Mystery. God’s heart is as big as the ocean. God can hear and absorb anything without being destroyed. God’s love is unrelenting you will not be destroyed by your nakedness.

Holy One, I am afraid. God, we are afraid. Holy Spirit, we are shy.

God, who are you? what are you? where are you?

Creator, I am filled with joy.

Jesus, I feel so close to you.

Jesus, I feel so alone.

God, I feel abandoned.

God, I am tired.

Mother God, I am thankful for my life.

Father God, I am mad at you.

Lord, I don’t understand you.

Silence, I am filled with a sense of mystery.

Breath of life, I am comforted that in the beginning there was order.

God, I am humbled by the beauty of creation.

Holy Wisdom, I want to be naked before you and with you.

Holy Mystery, who am I?

Breathe of Life, breathe in me. Breath of Life, breathe through me.

Jesus, we want to know the Truth and we want to be set free.

God, guide our feet, light our path, show us the way.

As Parker Palmer says “just like a wild animal, the soul is tough, resilient, savvy, resourceful and self-sufficient: it knows how to survive in hard places. Many of us learn about these qualities in the darkest moments of our lives when the faculties we normally depend upon utterly fail us - the intellect is useless, the emotions dead, the will impotent, and the ego shattered. But sometimes, way back in the thickets of our inner lives, we sense the presence of something that knows how to stay alive and helps us to keep going. That something, [Parker Palmer] suggest[s], is the tough and tenacious soul.

And yet the soul, despite its toughness, is also essentially shy - just like a wild animal. It will flee from the noisy crowd and seek safety in the deep underbrush. If we want to see a wild animal, we know that the last thing we should do is go crashing through the woods yelling for it to come out! But if we will walk into the wood quietly and sit at the base of a tree, breathing with the earth and fading into our surroundings, the wild creature we seek may eventually show up.”

This is God, sitting at the base of the tree of our lives, the tree of Life, fading into our surroundings, residing deeply in each and every thing we come into contact with, each conversation, each interaction, each action. This is Jesus, sitting with the woman at the well. This is what we do for each other. And I believe that this is Pentecost.

Acts 2: 1-12 “When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. [Today we are together in this place.] Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them...When they heard this sound, a crowd came together in bewilderment, because each one heard them speaking in his own language. We hear them declaring the wonders of God in our own tongues! Amazed and perplexed, they asked one another, “What does this mean?” Some, however, made fun of them and said, “They have had too much wine.”

This is Pentecost. An outward sign of an inward reality. A magnificent reminder of the divine light that lives within us, but shining on the outside. A moment of extreme clarity. Any overwhelming and awesome view of the experience of God. Who “speaks to each of us as [she] makes each of us”, in our own language, and hears us understands us in all the ways we praise and cry out. All of us telling our truths, testifying about the wonders of God, the amazing reality of this fully human life. Our souls recognize wholeness, our souls recognize each other’s honesty. We see it in each other. We don’t need to speak the same language, we don’t need to have the exact same image of God, we need to trust that the Divine exists in each and every person and living thing. And I really believe that we are invited to be the guardians of each other’s divinity. That we are invited to the stand guard beside each other as we hunger and thirst for the divine, as we start to expose our souls. So let us promise to honor each other, to give each other space to shed these skins to tight for our infinity, to dark for our divine lights. Let us lift each other up and not tear each other down. Let us each take responsibility for our own lives. We are children of God, but we are not children anymore. No one else is going to do it for us. On Pentecost and everyday, God is inviting us to shed our skins, the self consciousness, the shame, the fear. Lay bare our souls and bask in the light of this Mystery we call life and bear witness to the sorrow we call death. Don’t cover up. Stay open. Seek comfort and strength not from hiding, but by claiming and feeding the fire of our divine nature, to release that which smothers our souls and claim what gives us life. To lean into the mystery and the ocean of God’s love.

If you are willing, I would like you to please turn and look at the person sitting next to you or near you. Be close enough that you can look into each other’s eyes and be uncomfortable for a little bit.

So just look at each other for a minute, this fellow child of God.

Soak it in for a moment and take a deep breath.

Now one person in each pair repeat after me while looking at your partner:

The divine in me sees the divine in you.

I acknowledge your shy, beautiful, resilient and rare soul.

The world needs your unique light shining in the darkness.

I will not stand in your way or block your light.

I choose Life.

And now the other person.

Please stand and form an amoeba circle. Join hands. Please pray with me.

[Holy Mystery, who dwells in all that is, seen and unseen. Hallowed be your many names and your namelessness.] Thy kingdom come thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us [to Life]. For thine is the kingdom and power and glory that is Love now and forever. Amen.

Getting Off the Cross of Enabling

2010-05-26T07:53:00.000-07:00

Friends,

I'm doing some catch up. Here's my April proclamation at Liberation. This sermon has been heavily edited in the effort to protect the privacy of others. I think the meat of the message and my story is still evident. It's good for me to keep reading this and think and about how I can get on the bed and stop resisting. To get out of the way and make room for the Spirit to move.

Thank you again for your prayers. I could and still can feel them.

...........

April 11, 2010

Liberation Ministries

Please join me in a moment of silence.

I would like to acknowledge the people that are praying me into this space right now - my second time preaching ever. These people are seen and unseen.

All of you in the pews

Darrell

Marletta

Tamara

Garland

My mom

Sara B.

Sarah

Julia

Aimee

My dad

Jesus

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be pleasing unto you O, God my strength and my redeemer.

I am humbled and grateful to stand before you today and with you today. I’m a little in awe of the timing of this proclamation - which is part proclamation and mostly testimony, a story about from my life. The Mystery is alive and well today as every other day. I’ll say more about that later. For now just let me say you all and the Spirit are giving me a gift beyond measure inviting me to preach on this day. Darrell asked me to preach on April 11th at the end of February. And since then I’ve been thinking about what to talk about - where is the church, where is Liberation, where am I, where is the Spirit moving, what do I need to share, what do we need to hear? And then Pastor Steve gave his awesome sermon using the parable in Luke about Jesus healing the paralytic man and his teenage friends lowering him through the roof. He called us to pay attention to this story and move from a passive, reserved, distanced caring to a fully engaged, embodied, creative, driven, not to be deterred caring. He called us to action. I loved his sermon and I believe whole heartily in your [his] message.

I couldn’t get the image of this scene out of my mind. The friends, the ropes, the paralytic man on the mat, the crowd, his friends refusing to be deterred, not taking no for an answer, looking for a way where they didn’t see a way through the crowd, all of them up on the roof, and Jesus waiting to receive him in the room below.

Gives me chills.

Here’s that scripture again.

Jesus Heals a Paralytic Luke 5: 17-20

17 One day as he was teaching, Pharisees and teacher of the law, who had come from every village of Galilee and from Judea and Jerusalem, were sitting there. And the power of the Lord was present for him to heal the sick. 18 Some men came carrying a paralytic on a mat [bed] and tried to take him into the house to lay him before Jesus. 19 When they could not find a way to do this because of the crowd, they went up on the roof and lowered him on his mat through the tiles into the middle of the crowed, right in front of Jesus.

And Jesus saw their faith.

While Pastor Steve was setting the scene I was picturing the man on the mat, his bed and his willingness to be there. When Pastor Steve preached we looked at the teenagers and their ingenuity, their youthful spirit of willingness to do whatever it takes.

Today I want to talk about when the willingness to be on the bed - our willingness and the people we’re trying to help and I want to talk a little bit about knowing when to pick up the ropes and do whatever it takes to get to Jesus, to get to healing, to get to wholeness.

Last weekend we heard Pastor Darrell’s Easter Sermon - What’s got you nailed? And the three points - 1. He was nailed. 2. He was willing to be nailed. 3. He got down off the cross. And his questions What’s got you nailed? How have we been willing to stay nailed? And when are we going to get off that cross? To be healed and move towards fullness of LIFE and not death?

My cross is pretty clear. I’m a recovering enabler - from way back. Focusing on other people lives instead of my own, spreading myself way too thin, feeling like “this” - whatever “this” was for the season - was just life and I’d have to live through it, throwing self care out the window, existing in a state of learned helplessness, standing in the way of the Spirit and healing, avoiding conflict, and for the first 2 and 1/2 decades of my life living behind of a shield of secrecy and everything is fine. I can handle this. But I couldn’t and my body started to reject my enabling habits. I became physically ill and could not ignore how my willingness to be nailed was affecting my spiritual, physical, and emotional well-being. I was stuck on my cross.

My recovery is relatively new, I’ve been asking God to lead me to fullness of life and to help me shed this shell of enabling for about a decade now. And I started to get off my cross for the first time about 4 years ago. I started praying from my cross and whimpering out before that, but it took me a while to get down.

As my mom says, I come by my enabling naturally and honestly. [This section cut in the interest of other people’s privacy] It got to the point where I became almost physically unable to cry when it would have been appropriate and helpful for me to feel my feelings, release them, and to show them, a sign to the outside world how much I was hurting.

But like that passive version of helping I’m sure people were praying and for that I’m thankful. But, it was not enough. We needed people to intervene, we needed - WE needed- to pull back the curtain so that people could see what was really going on and we needed some perseverant people to come around our bed and pick up the ropes and drop us in front of Jesus.

When we are all in crisis it’s hard to see clearly. We’re freakin’ out. We need people who aren’t directly affected to come in with clear sight, with clear vision, eyes on Jesus so we don’t pull them under the water with us, soft hearts, and strong convictions - open to the Spirit and not to their own Savior complex. Do gooders are not allowed. They distract from the root of the problem, focusing instead on saving the day instead of fostering wholeness, and we block the movement of the Spirit, because we know just what to do and they miss the subtle clues and nudges of God trying to show them a way through the cracks instead of covering them over with a band-aid. Useless help. It just slows down healing and eventual huge chaos.

But, we bind people’s ability to help unless we get on the bed. Unless we surrender.

Those teenage boys didn’t drop an empty mat through the roof. It’s so much harder for people to be useful to us when we refuse their offerings of Spirit in action. And we enablers wear ourselves out trying to make people willing when what we need to do is be still. wait. trust in God, and ask ourselves what good are we actually doing? We need to invite people to get on the bed instead of knocking them over the head, and dragging them around, and violating them at times with our help. We need to ask ourselves are we moving towards wholeness or are we just shaking ourselves and everyone around us senseless trying to fix it, make it work, save the day, figure it out BY OURSELVES instead of laying it down, laying it all down at the feet of Jesus, and sometimes we need to lay it and ourselves down at the feet admitting that we are tired, we are exhausted, and that we don’t know what to do, that we need help so that we can be helpful, asking God to lead us instead of getting fixated on our own way. Which limits our view. When we become focused on the one thing. On the one thing that’s gonna make it right. On the way it’s gotta look if there’s going to be healing. We miss out on all the ways God is trying to show us a different path. We need to surrender.

Here’s what the beginnings of surrender and crying out from my cross looked like for me:

In my mid to late twenties I started going to a little Presbyterian church on Capitol Hill and I fell in love with the people in the pews and the prayer. Prayers of the people were radically honest - God, help me stop smoking, deliver my social security check on time, help me heal my relationship with my mother, I remember one man standing up in the back of the church and crying, my loved one is struggling with addiction. It was there in that context that I started telling the truth. Telling the truth about my family and me. I would sob at the communion rail and call my pastor and my best friend and ask wholeheartedly and unashamedly for prayer. Stand up in the pew and ask for prayers for me and my family.

I started taking care of myself and entering into my life - swimming, eating differently, forming a relationship with a Spiritual Director that I still have to this day, spending my money and my time off on me. I entered a program called the Academy for Spiritual Formation and would go down to San Francisco for a week every three months for two years to learn a semi monastic rhythm of life. Grieving all of the grief I’d kept inside. I quit a job and moved back to Capitol Hill after a brief stint in Issaquah. I fell in love.

I’m standing here to tell you that if the person you’re trying to save does not want to get on the bed and refuses all help it’s o.k. to start focusing on your life and lay down on that bed yourself, let your friends surround you and carry your tired worn out self to Jesus.

I mean this.

We don’t hear this is church a lot. There are some seasons in our lives where we’re not asked to be stationed at the ropes or on the roof - we’re being invited to lay down, to get on the bed and receive healing.

We read the passage in Matthew 25 and hear give bread, give water, clothe people, look after the sick, visit the prisoners, and our head starts spinning thinking about all the things we better hurry up and get doing to stay on the good list and off the naughty list, secure our place in heaven and stay away from the pits of hell. Or here’s my problem. At times I don’t actually trust that God will do the work if I don’t do it. I take it so seriously that it’s up to me, that I forget to let God be God. I forget that when we say WE are the body of Christ, that means we meaning ALL OF US - not just me. I am a member of the body of Christ, but WE are the body. I need to scoot over and let some others gather round. And it sounds like I’m not the only one.

And has any one else noticed in the verse “I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers [and sisters] of mine, you did for me.” That Jesus says whatever we did for one of the least. One at a time. One at a time. And when we’re doing for the least how often are we actually, more truthfully, doing it for ourselves, checking it off the list, and moving on to the next thing. Well, we feel better now, but have we actually engaged in change, in justice, in healing, in wholeness? Or have we made it worse? Have we blocked the Spirits ability to move - to show us a new way a different way? Or let somebody else participate for once.

I think there are seasons where God asks us to stop, not to do more. Just stop. Be still. Stop Worrying. Listen.

Because we live our lives in cycles and although Jesus lived the heaven, earth, cross, grave, heaven cycle once - we are invited to live it multiple times. Over and over and over again until we are home, in our final resting place. Over and over again we are invited to practice daily resurrection, getting off the cross and living.

During my crying out period I still had a toe in the enabling pool. Just in case I wanted to go back to the old ways.

But, the truth always comes out - it is insistent. It can not be ignored forever. The reality of the situation and the truth about ourselves will always come out. And our longing for Life is actually strong if we give it some room to grow. It is a fierce longing. But the longer we wait the harder the fall.

And so nailed to a cross of my own making I started to gain some perspective and I started to listen to my body, my mind, reading poetry and sitting in the quiet in the morning. I started to stop flailing and be still. I started to consider surrendering, not just crying out, but be willing to get down. and here is what I heard those quiet mornings.

Stop. Be Still. Listen.

Wait. Is that me trying to force something or the Spirit nudging me to move? Lay it down. Try to become fully emptied. Give the Spirit more room to move.

Stop. Be Still. Listen. Pray.

God, teach me...

Stop. Be Still. Listen. Pray - pray radically.

Holy Spirit, if this is right for me, let it become more firmly rooted and established in my life. If this is wrong for me, let it become less important to me, and let it be increasingly removed from my life.

This is a Flora Slosson Wuellner prayer. As she says, don’t pray it unless you mean it. You will get your answer.

Stop. Be Still. Listen. Pray. Wait.

The Truth will come.

God, give me clarity and if I receive clarity may I have courage.

Stop. Be Still. Listen. Pray. Wait.

God, give me clarity and if I receive clarity may I have courage.

Stop. Be Still. Listen. Pray. Wait for the Spirit’s nudge. Move.

The truth came out. Painfully. And I moved.

The Holy Counselor Jesus promised to send did come. She came blowing through the trees, and the stars in the night sky I would lay under. She would show up in strangers at bus stops. The comforter showed up at pulpits and on podcasts. At meetings. Through friends and friends of friends, through professionals. Through classes run by professionals. I asked for help and the help come flooding through the space I created by getting out of the way. Practical, natural resources that had been waiting in the wings for me to LET GO, to surrender, and to make room to move.

I felt a deep joy and relief that I had never experienced before - coupled with a deeply broken and grieving heart, but I did feel strong and rooted in God. I was exhausted and overwhelmingly tired.

When I came down off my cross, when we come down off our crosses, we are tired. We are spent. We’re physically weak. We’re drained. We’ve been hanging up there. We need to go deep. This is grave time. Jesus didn’t go from the cross up to heaven. He came down and he was buried in a tomb. We have from Friday, we have the Sabbath ‘til Sunday morning. We need this time. We need to be in something like the earth that can surround us and give us rest. We need sustenance. Deep, deep rest and renewal. We may need darkness, like being buried in the earth, as much or more than we need light. We need our Sabbath, our Friday and Saturday, before we can climb out of the tomb and fully embrace our lives again. And we need to allow each other to have that time.

It’s o.k. to name that and tend to our own needs. If we want to be at the ropes when the season comes we need to be rested, we need to be centered, and we need to have our eyes on Jesus.

I’d like to end with a Rumi poem. Thank you so much for listening to me and hearing my story today.

Zero Circle

Be helpless, dumbfounded,

Unable to say yes or no

Then a stretcher will come from Grace

to gather us up

We are too dull-eyed to see that beauty

If we say we can, we are lying

If we say no, we don’t see it

That no will behead us

And shut tight our window on to Spirit

So let us rather not be sure of anything

Besides [the God that resides within] ourselves and only that so

miraculous beings come running to help

Crazed, lying in a zero circle, mute

We shall be saying finally

with tremendous eloquence, lead us

When we have totally surrendered to that beauty

We shall be a mighty kindness.

-Rumi

Amen.

Under the Crust

2010-05-18T07:42:00.001-07:00

Good morning, friends. If I could I would stay seated here today. At this table by the window and write some things down. That would be my work. This is where my greediness shows up. Instead of appreciating the 15 - 45 minutes I can choose to take before walking across the street to turn on a different computer and start the work clock I think about how I wish I could be here all day.

Alas, I need that job so I can sit here with you. So gratitude for this time and for my job and my paycheck and my health insurance.

I've been having hard conversations with folks lately. Which doesn't mean that they're not ultimately good or growth filled or rich or something to build on. I went to see a therapist for an initial visit on my lunch hour last week and then came back to work. I wanted to throw up returning to work and trying to get back into productive mode. My skin was tingling and my brain was fuzzy and yet, life goes on. I need that job, that desk, those assignments so that I can go to see the therapist and round out the healing that I'm pretty sure I want, that I'm pretty sure I'm called to this season.

Dinner with another friend I've had for a long time. Towards the end of the conversation she was referencing relationships being like a loaf of bread with a heavy crust. We don't know what's going on for other people under the surface. We just don't know from the outside what we're all working on or through. Amen.

Came home and read a piece of a Glenda Hope sermon printed in the Network Ministries newsletter. I'll have to dig it up and post it here later. Basically talking about how before we can heal we need to first be reassured of God's unrelenting Love. We need to be strengthened knowing if and when we descend into the depths we will not be destroyed.

Thank you, Glenda.

Thank you to everyone who sits alongside while I'm living this life of contradiction, while we're all living these lives of contradiction. It's a love filled miracle and it's got it's painful, confusing moments. I no longer feel the need to have it be one thing. So I pray to greet it all, to be the guest house Rumi invites us to be, and for discernment to hold onto what's worth keeping and to let go what needs to be released.

I teared up on the prayer line last week as Marletta prayed for me. So fierce, so protective, so loving, so faithful. Pray for me and stand to the side, this is my work to do.

Thank you to all the folks I feel so strongly doing just that.

Praying for all of those looking for meaningful, sustaining employment and the health insurance and paycheck that goes with it! Praying for R., for Sara B., for my sister, for everyone.

GUEST HOUSE

This being human is a guest house
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

-Rumi

Ed Grimmly

2010-05-02T11:54:00.000-07:00

Hello, Sunday. Hello, friends.

I've had such a nice weekend. I was low energy on Friday morning. I sent a text to Sarah requesting a reschedule with an overnight with W. and a date with LP on Saturday. I'd shoehorned way too many things in Fri-Sun and decided to ask for some Grace. Thankfully, grace received. It's one of my pet peeves to cancel things at nearly the last minute. I hate being the recipient and I hate being the canceller. But, this time I'm glad I did. I like being fully present to W. when we have our time together, same with LP. She doesn't really let it be any other way so I don't have to worry about that too much, but still. Anyway, thank you Sarah. I can't wait to be with the kids in a couple weeks.

Creating that room gave me some time to myself on either side of a few things that I was committed to and didn't cancel. Some unexpected things crept in.

I made a new friend this year. I've loved his writing for a long time and then I happily found out I like him just as much or more than his writing (depends on the book - smile). We talked on the phone briefly on Saturday morning. My phone log says 13 minutes. He wrote me a e-mail with a list of things he wanted to talk about. Hello, a list? That's one of my top five love languages. And we covered it all and more, with laughter and some tenderness, in less than a quarter hour. I felt like I went to the doctor and got a B-12 shot in the arm. Thank you, Robert. You're an unexpected gift in many ways. I'm not taking you for granted.

I'm sure R. was happy because he met a much nicer version of his girlfriend in the alley on Saturday morning that he did on Thursday morning when we met for coffee before work. I'm really good at being a freaked out ass. R's nice about it and calls it prickly. As in, after receiving my verbal, eye contact apology, "ya, you were a prickly pear." God bless him. We ended up extending our visitation hours on Saturday and went to the library and then some rice and beans for dinner. At the end of our date I was telling him I wanted to get a haircut this week and he said really, you just got it cut like a week ago. Then he looked at me and said well it is getting a little tall in the front, Ed Grimmly, complete with hand motions around the top of his head. Who's Ed Grimmly I asked? Well, we whipped out the iPhone and I found out. "Babe!@# That's not how I look, is it?" and then I laughed my ass off watching Martin Short as Ed Grimmly. That picture up top is me this morning at the coffee shop. I can't really argue with him - no product required for that lift. My boyfriend is pretty funny, he's actually very funny and fun loving. One of the things I really value and it felt so good to laugh together for most of the afternoon. I feel like I've grabbed the brass ring when I make him laugh really hard. I scored at picnic table - he almost had to spit out his beverage. Success! April wasn't an easy month, but it was very rich. I wouldn't want to have a non-easy month with anyone else.

JV and I decided to meet at a coffee shop this morning with our laptops, share a table and get some of our to-do lists done in good company. Whatever. What a mass rationalization to have an awesome, long conversation and never pull our laptops out of the bag. The last time we were together a few weeks ago we were some trouble makers with a capital T. It's probably good we didn't pull the laptops out of our bags. As R. says "there might not have been responsible use of the internet." Love you walking man. I think we did o.k. this time. Missed you, Jordan.

So now I'm off to church stopping for communion bread along the way. I could sit here all day, but I'm thankful for the 30 minutes I've had with you all. More to come. I scanned in a bunch of images this morning and I've had a list going for weeks of things I want to write about.

Thanks for sticking with me.

Love to you all. Praying you all get a good shot in the arm this week and some probably much needed rest.

Licorice Slug

2010-04-26T14:00:00.000-07:00

I'm sure Licorice Slug is not the scientific name. Isn't she beautiful? I think there's a diamond in there. So happy to run into you, but not on or over you this weekend.

Sit. Feast on Your Life.

2010-04-26T08:06:00.000-07:00

Love After Love

The time will come

when, with elation

you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

-Derek Walcott

Monday morning and I've got a full belly and a full heart from a weekend complete with yoga bookends Friday after work and Yoga Niddra (The Sleep of the Yogi) practice on Sunday night. I spent time with several loves in my life - visiting date with R., my annual retreat with Sarah MK, phone time with Sara B., worshipping and praying at Liberation, trees and water, Volunteer Park lawn in the sun, unexpected slug sightings at St Edwards State Park, time alone with myself, silence, bookstores.

Sarah and I spend an overnight together during the year and we do kind of sit and feast on our lives - individually and communally. We don't spend all of our time together. This year we each spent some time looking at the balance (or the lack there of) between work, prayer, rest, and community in our lives and then sharing it with each other. I picked this up from Robert Benson at the 5-day Academy.

When we did this exercise briefly at the Academy I saw pretty clearly in lead and white that I was not committed to any kind of daily prayer practice and that I could use some more rest. And I have no one, but myself to blame for not getting more rest. Nothing and no one is getting in my way, but me.

This weekend I focused on what do I most deeply want and what do I need to do during this Year of the Slug and shedding the shell. Sarah noticed I didn't have a lot of action items on my list. Not a lot of adding and subtracting of activities, but no shortage of esoteric, la-la words, thoughts, ideas, longings.

I've got a little homework, but I was relieved later in the day that I already have an action item list going. I wrote one last month. I need to dig it out and add some things to it. Subtract some things too.

Thank you, Sarah.

R. and I spent Saturday afternoon at St. Edwards State Park. Beautiful, beautiful day and as we were walking along and I was talking about how I think, I feel I'm having an ongoing conversation with God lately, with the universe and what should I see on the path at that moment - a slug! A beautiful, little grey slug. And me beaming an Elf smile back at this little creature. Look how he/she just blends right in. Most of the slugs we saw were the color of licorice.

A week or so ago I woke up and looked at the ceiling and said out loud "God, I think you're showing me myself." Feels like a gift. I'm participating in a communication workshop right now so I'm having a hard time writing "feels like." I hear the teacher "That's an opinion, not a feeling. Here look at your feelings sheet with all the faces." I have 4 copies now. But, I'm claiming it. It does feel like a gift. I feel it in my chest and in the space around me right now. I was lying in yoga earlier that same week looking at the ceiling and I said "I'm trying, God." I heard back "stop trying so hard. Let it be." O.k.

Nice to have a break from wrestling with myself this weekend and do some feasting.

I pray you have a feast day or weekend on your calendar soon.

Love, Em

Bliss

2010-04-15T08:23:00.000-07:00

Sunny morning with a little time before I have to be at work. Sitting by the window at the coffee shop with all my "stuff." Beverages, little notebook, MacBook, pencil pouch, poetry, wi-fi connection, sun on my face, the barista calling out "iced tea's ready darlin'", running into Roger and Rachel, and then staying put for another quarter hour. No rush.

I haven't decided if I'm going to post my sermon text from Sunday or not. I think I may whip up an edited version. I shared some things from other people's lives that I'm not sure should be posted here.

Thank you for all of your prayers. I felt them. You too, Limes. Your comment didn't go unnoticed and it meant something to me that you said you'd be thinking about me. Sue warned Darrell that I go long and I did. 30 minutes. Suzanne told me after my first sermon at the Academy, "Bless your little heart that sermon was too long." Guess I have more to say than I think I do and once I get on a roll I don't want to stop. Thankfully, Darrell's norm is to go long and so they cheered me on at Liberation. Literally, cheered me on. What a gift you are to me, Liberation. Thank you.

And Sue was there tearing up in the pew and making eye contact with me. I called her that morning and left her a message saying I'm not dying, it's o.k. if you can't come, but I'd love it if you were there. And she came. Asking for what I wanted, but not tied to the outcome. Feels good.

We spent a couple hours after church together eating outside, making friends with the waiter, talking and laughing and moving on to sit by a reflection pool, light candles in the chapel, and write down some prayers. We had a nice conversation about stories and being read to.

Here's that poem I was telling you about Sue. Thanks for sharing my bliss on Sunday and being with me this season. You're an amazing, gentle, quiet, affectionate presence in my life. I'll always hold your hand in the pews and across the table, heads bowed in public. You're my kind of friend. Be prepared for me to invite myself over to sit with you in your garden soon.

STORY WATER

A story is like water

that you heat for your bath.

It takes messages between the fire

and your skin. It lets them meet,

and it cleans you!

Very few can sit down

in the middle of the fire itself

like a salamander or Abraham.

We need intermediairies.

A feeling of fullness comes,

but usually it takes some bread

to bring it.

Beauty surrounds us,

but usually we need to be walking

in a garden to know it.

The body itself is a screen

to shield and partially reveal

the light that's blazing

inside your presence.

Water, stories, the body,

all the things we do, are mediums

that hide and show what's hidden.

Study them,

and enjoy this being washed

with a secret we sometimes know

and then not.

-Rumi

Peace to your days.

Letting Go

2010-04-10T08:53:00.000-07:00

To a dear one about whom I have been concerned.
I behold the Christ in you.
I place you lovingly in the care of God.
I release you from my anxiety and concern.
I let go of my possessive hold on you.
I am willing to free you to follow the dictates of the indwelling Spirit.
I am willing to free you to live your life according to your best light and understanding.
Husband, wife, [significant other, father, mother, sister, brother,] child, friend,
I no longer try to force my ideas on you, my ways on you.
I lift my thoughts above you, above the personal level.
I see you as God sees you,
a spiritual being,
created in God’s image,
endowed with qualities and abilities that make you needed and important not only to me,
but to God and God’s larger perspective.
I do not bind you.

I no longer believe that you do not have the understanding you need in order to meet life.

I bless you,

I have faith in you,

I behold Jesus in you.

-author unknown

There's been a shitload of love and light in my life this week. A lot of wisdom bestowed and a lot of support.

Thank you, Suzanne.

Thank you, Roger.

Thank you, Darrell.

Thank you, Rebecca.

Thank you, Trudy.

Thank you, Shannon.

Thank you, Julie.

Thank you, Ross.

Thank you, Diane.

Thank you, John.

Thank you, Mom.

Thank you, Bob.

Thank you, Sara.

Thank you, Sarah.

Thank you, Sue.

Thank you, Jordan.

Thank you, R.

Thank you, Denise.

Thank you, Rachel.

Thank you, Julia.

Thank you, Marletta.

Thank you, friends.

Thank you praying community.

I received a bouquet of flowers this week - the most precious, unexpected, sweet gift.

Be careful not to hide the cracks, that's how the light gets in.

Thank you, Leonard.

Love to you all.

F*ing crazy bus

2010-04-10T07:27:00.000-07:00

I got on the crazy bus and took a short ride last night. There's an acronym in recovery - HALT.
Hungry, angry, lonely, tired? One of those, two, all of the above? Halt. Don't be making any damn decisions right now. Just stop. Be still.

Oops.

You did what?

Ya, and it woke me up at 3:30 a.m. this morning. What the fuck? Couldn't go back to sleep. Prayed for awhile which honestly sounded more like whimpering and groaning. And then, thankful for the time change for once, called home and talked to my step-dad, then talked to my sweet soulmate Sara B. on the Cape who answered on the first ring, praise God, with a "hey, you" like she was expecting my call, and then my mom called. I just wanted to puke. I was frustrated. Embarrassed. Torn up. Needing to let go.

I relapsed and I was coming to.

It's hard work being a recovering enabler who relapses. Counting the minutes at home until I coud get down here to the cafe and write an apology. I feel so much better now. I exhaust myself.

There's been a lot going on near and in my life. A lot of it's had to do with work and R. But, there's also been a lot going on with my dad. Off of his meds again, not leaving the house, etc. My sister called me last week and gave me the news. I just don't have the energy for it and I don't acknowledge how much it affects me just having it in the back of my mind even if I say all my mantras and stand firm in my decision not to jump in and try to save the day. Don't worry, I tried to do it somewhere else. When it gets all built up like that it comes out sideways.

I'm learning to have grace for myself. I can "do" all the right things: extra meetings with my spiritual director, dinners and laughter with friends, 6-8 week hiatus from the jail, meeting the MKs for ice cream, coffee with my pastor, prayer, listen to music, rent movies, go to yoga, ask for prayer, on and on and on.

I'm still going to have trouble being myself sometimes. I'm still going to fuck it up. I'm still going to have to remind myself to loosen my grip and unclench my teeth. Like Suzanne says, "You may relapse, but you're not going back to the old ways." Like Darrell says, "but you're still human, Emily."

It's not a fucking a-ha moment for anyone else that I'm not perfect, that I don't have it all together. I know that too, but I prefer it when I harbor the illusion that it appears like I've got it together to the outside world. You know, still duck on the surface paddling like hell underneath? I've laughed about that with a couple of people this week.

I've been asked to preach this weekend. The date was set a couple of months ago and it seems funny to me now. Ridiculous and perfect timing. I'm planning to preach on getting off the cross of enabling, believing that I have some special power for enabling other's healing, and surrending to my Life instead of sacrifing myself on the altar of focusing on others to the point of self-extinction and deterioration. I don't want to pick up the ropes to lower my paralyzed friend through the roof of the house unless my friend is willing to be on the damn bed, I'm surrounded by others, Jesus is in the room below, and that the Spirit nudges me instead of my avoidance of the life that's waiting for me if I'd just HALT and be still for a moment to listen.

Gethsemane

2010-04-01T08:27:00.000-07:00

The grass never sleeps.

Or the roses.

Nor does the lily have a secret eye that shuts until morning.

Jesus said, wait with me. But the disciples slept.

The cricket has such splendid fringe on its feet,

and it sings, have you noticed, with its whole body,

and heaven knows it if ever sleeps.

Jesus said, wait with me. And maybe the stars did, maybe

the wind wound itself into a silver tree, and didn't move,

maybe

the lake far away, where once he walked as on a

blue pavement,

lay still and waited, wild awake.

Oh the dear bodies, slumped and eye-shut that could not

keep that vigil, how they must have wept,

so utterly human, knowing this too

must be a part of the story.

Mary Oliver published Thirst in 2006 with this poem Gethsemane in it. This is the Mary Oliver book that I return to the most.

I read this poem in a new way when I went through my Shanti training. I understood it in a new way. The call to sit, to keep watch and pray. Not fix "it" - whatever "it" is, not to give advice, not to say "I know just how you feel" or "That happened to me one time."

And non-religion specific Multifaith Works sent me to my bible. Did Jesus really say that? Did he really ask for someone to wait with him?

Yes, he did.

Mark 14:32-34: They went to a place called Gethsemane and Jesus said to his disciples, "Sit here while I pray." He took Peter, James, and John along with him, and he began to be deeply distressed and troubled. "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death," he said to them. "Stay her and keep watch."

No exegesis needed here. What a surprise this was, what a relief. And what a sadness. Like that Taize song goes Stay here with me, Remain here with me, Watch and Pray, Watch and Pray. And they couldn't do it. We couldn't do it. It's something I'm still struggling with, something our society struggles with I believe.

Worthy of practice, worthy of cultivation.

Thinking of communion, the Last Supper, feet washing, Liberation, the trees, the lake, the crickets, the garden of Gethsemane, the disciples, us, and Jesus - afraid, left alone, and undeterred.

I'll be breaking bread with some girlfriends tonight. I pray you'll be with someone too wherever you are. Wherever two or more are gathered...

Do this in remembrance of me.

Bread for your journey,

Cup of healing

Amen.

P.S. I'm not steeped in the bible. I'm learning more in my 30s, but it's not my strong suit. I gotta lot a Love in me, but not a lot of memorized or familiarized scripture. I'm not worried about it. I'm enjoying sticking a toe in and learning more. I'm constantly surprised when I tell R, "Suzanne and I used this text today for Lectio Divina." And he says "O ya, that one in (blank) where (fill in the blank) happens." He's steeped in the scripture and he doesn't wear it on his sleeve. I love this guy. He's full of it.

Office of Tenebrae

2010-04-01T08:09:00.000-07:00

Last night R. and I went to an office of Tenebrae service. I didn't even know there was such a thing until a few years ago and now it's become one of the services I look forward to every year during Holy Week. Here's a little section from the program:

The name Tenebrae (the Latin word for darkness or shadows) has for centuries been applied to the ancient monastic night and early morning services (Matins and Lauds) of the last three days of Holy Week, which in medieval times came to be celebrated on the preceding evenings. Apart from chanting of the Lamentations of Jeremiah, in which each verse is introduced by a letter of the Hebrew alphabet, the most conspicuous feature of the service is the gradual extinguishing of candles and other lights in the church to signify the gradual extinction of all human hopes. Toward the end of the service, when the Benedictus is sung, the lights of the candelabra are extinguished one by one, in commemoration of the darkness with overshadowed the earth during Christ's crucifixion.

I've been having a really bumpy couple of months. It's been awesome in so many ways AND I'm pretty tired and feeling worn. R and I went to see a movie with John and Sue a couple weekends ago and at the end of the movie Sue looked at me and said "you look really tired." You know how when someone says that to you it can feel like the shittiest thing in the word and you may want to say or do say "thanks a lot, that helps - not!" Well, Sue saying that had the opposite affect on me. I felt seen, really seen and cared for. If she would have hugged me I might have started crying.

I wrote her an e-mail the next day and included this David Whyte that I soaking up.

When your eyes are tired
the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone
no part of the world can find you.

Time to go into the dark
where the night has eyes
to recognize its own.

There you can be sure
you are not beyond love.

The dark will be your womb
tonight.

The night will give you a horizon
further than you can see.

You must learn one thing.
The world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn

anything or anyone

that does not bring you alive
is too small for you.

Last night sitting in the dark - no candles, no lights except the ambient evening light coming through the oculus and the emergency exit lights, on my knees next to R, the whole packed cathedral dark, quiet, and still I felt exactly where I needed to be. I could have stayed there on my knees a lot longer.

Blessings to you wherever you are this week. Blessings on your Triduum if you're observing. Blessings on your Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday if you're not.

When I die,

2010-03-22T20:05:00.000-07:00

CONGREGATE - Nikki McClure

Taken from one of her yearly calendars.

The highlight of several Christmas gift exchanges in the Pacific NW.

This was a weekend of hosting gatherings around my table and telling stories, laughing, talking about meaningful, important things, crying, singing, and feasting on good food and each other.

Trudy came over last night and facilitated a discussion with me and R. and several friends about death and the 5 wishes. Trudy is a force of love in this world all the way from Kansas to Seattle with an arm down to California and many other places I don't even know about. She started the AIDS Care Team program here in Seattle at Multifaith Works and she is a wealth of amazing stories of compassion, good deaths, isolation, separation, and unconditional love. She spent some of her life as a hospital chaplain and still does this work per diem with the Cancer Care Alliance. Currently, she is focusing on her own business Heartwork Consulting. She offers many services, but one of her specialties is Five Wishes/End of Life Planning Groups. For more specific information check out her website links all over this post or if you need something more direct click here.

We started out with an amazing potluck dinner. Trudy, Rebecca, Shannon, and I don't do much together without a good meal. Rebecca introduced me to Trudy a few years ago through some listening session and we've been eating together and planning retreats ever since. Everyone brought something delicious. I made the best batch of Chana Punjabi/Sour Chickpea Curry I've ever whipped up thanks to R's suggestion that we use the slow cooker and his willingness to chop onions and garlic in mass quantities. And everyone else filled the table with amazing contributions: homemade cornbread, fruit salad with a delectable honey sauce, little roasted cute ass potatoes, spinach salad with shaved beets and thinly sliced fennel, and my favorite-roasted green beans, mandarins, and radicchio in a olive oil, garlic, salt, and anchovy dressing. Anchovies - who knew? I picked every last bean and radiccio leaf out of that serving dish and licked my fingers clean while Rebecca was taking care of the last mandarins. Yum. Hard to go to bed complaining when your boyfriend walks into the kitchen at the end of the night happy to do the dishes, one of his self described ministries. Is there anyone who isn't happy to go turn off the lights and pull up the covers knowing there's a clean kitchen and dining table to wake up to?

Everyone seemed really happy to be together sharing a meal and getting ready to talk about a subject most of us aren't comfortable with - our mortality. We started the meal with a Mary Oliver poem called "A River Far Away and Long Ago" from Red Bird. "Since then I have looked and looked for myself, not sure who I am, or where, or, more importantly, why. It's okay - I have had a wonderful life. Still, I ponder where that other is - where I landed, what I thought, what I did, what small or even maybe meaningful deeds I might have accomplished somewhere among strangers, coming to them as only a river can - touching every life it meets - that endlessly kind, that enduring."

Trudy lit a candle for the mystery and the reality that is death. We will all be experiencing this transition and yet we have a really hard time discussing it, sometimes even when it's literally staring us in the face. We'd often rather deny it, fight it, or skim over the surface. Trudy's preference and those of us gathered with her last night - go deep, shine a light in the darkness. Dying does not need to be a taboo subject and it's a gift to ourselves and our loved ones to talk about it before it's absolutely necessary.

If you don't want to have a meaningful, deep conversation don't call Trudy. She doesn't start slow and ramp up either she goes straight down. She did allow us about 45 minutes to eat and tell food stories and swap recipes and techniques. Then we cleared the table, put the tea kettle on, lit a candle, passed out index cards, and wrote the words WHEN I DIE, on our cards and then we each finished the sentence for ourselves.

Wow. Quite the depth and variety of sharing going around the table one person at a time. Set the tone for the conversation quickly and we got down to business. Trudy brought each one of us a copy of the Five Wishes booklet - a legally binding document once signed and witnessed by two people in the State of Washington (and many other states).

Five Wishes lets your family, friends, and doctors know (in pretty amazing detail for an easy to read and follow document):

- Who you want to make health care decision for you when you can't make them

- The kind of medical treatment you want or don't want

- How comfortable you want to be

- How you want people to treat you

- What you want your loved ones to know

These questions cover everything from life support, to organ donation, quality of care, funeral/memorial wishes, burial, cremation, etc.

Access the Five Wishes website here.

Trudy led us through a very thorough and meaningful discussion leaving several of us with more questions, confusion, thankfulness, and clarity.

Why would relatively young people get together to talk about the end of our lives? Several of us are dealing with this with our parents and grandparents and we've witnessed good deaths and unnecessarily hard, painful deaths. And we've become distinctly aware lately that except for one or two of us at the table we don't have next of kin in town or near by. For the rest of us having next of kin close requires a flight from at least two states away. We have each other close by and we want to know how to care for one another in case of an emergency. We want to respect each others wishes and be firm about them if necessary. And we want to share our wishes with our family members before the questions comes up. At this point in our lives we'd likely die early due to an accident and not an illness, but we don't know that and either way it felt really good to have the conversation, start the paperwork, and hear others stories and wishes. Pretty tender to have so many good folks around. And it definitely encouraged us to widen the circle and start the conversation about final wishes with others we're close to.

Trudy closed with this quote from A River Runs Through It.

"Eventually, all things merge into one. And a river runs through it. The river was cut by the river's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs...I am haunted by waters."

-Normal Maclean

I went to bed with a full head last night and a heavy heart. I inadvertently learned that an inmate I visited with this year overdosed and died leaving some sweet children behind. I am sad about this for many reasons that I can't write about here.

Jail is not an in-patient treatment center for addiction or mental illness. It is often used as a substitute. It's not even close. Of course, a rare individual can use even the most horrible of situations to fuel a spiritual practice and transformation, but I don't believe in counting on that for the well being of our society or the individuals making up our society and living the day to day struggle. Why do we insist on making it more difficult than it already is?

I also went to bed happy to have spent the evening in my apartment with these people who are dear to me. Grateful for Trudy and all the amazing people I have in my life. For my friends that I hope are with me when I pass. For those I feel confident will respect my wishes. And I felt heavy thinking about Death with Dignity, the history of mental illness that runs in my family, unsuccessful suicide attempts by more than 1 person, lonely deaths, lonely lives, and my highschool hospital roommate Winnie.

I was surprised this morning when R. and I were talking about last night and what was still on my mind. I made a discovery that I would be o.k. dying in a hospital if it was appropriate. When I was a senior in high school I came down with a bad case of bronchitis that turned to pneumonia. I was out of school for a month. At home on the couch for 3 weeks and then finally I was admitted to the hospital for a week. I started feeling better immediately with oxygen, IV drugs, and deep, deep rest. This season of my life makes me think of my mom a lot. There's a witching hour for asthma. It happens in the middle of the night between 2:30 and 4:30. She would sit up with me rubbing my back, making us tea, and just sitting with me in the quiet waiting until I could use my inhaler again. She was working two jobs at the time and taking care of me. Thank you, Mom. I spent a lot of time alone in the apartment. And also, friends from high school would come and visit me. A large group came and had lunch with me one day. Chad and Eric came over and made chicken noodle soup one day and we watched The Godfather. When I was in the hospital I remember clearly James and Sara B. both making trips to see me and climbing in bed with me. The staff enjoyed having a young person on the floor and I remember a male nurse coming and sitting by my bed eating popcorn and watching TV with me during his break.

It was such a relief to be admitted. I was buzzing the nurse in the middle of the first night I was there and puking in my bed and I can still remember Winnie in the bed next to me, dying of lung cancer, and sweetly saying to me "that's right Honey, get it out." We would listen to music together and talked about church, boys, and a host of other things. Winnie was relieved to be rooming with a fellow United Methodist. I'm not sure how old she was, maybe around 70? We wrote letters to each other after we were both released from the hospital. I carry a picture of Winnie and her husband in my checkbook to this day. She passed around my high school graduation. The day we graduated Chad drove me to her viewing after our ceremony.

It was a relief to me to get to the care I needed and it was a relief for my mom too to have me admitted. When I die, I want to be in a place where I can relax and truly rest, be cared for without being burden, see and feel sunlight, and I want a mix of quiet and company. I like to be sung to and if you're close to me you're welcome to get in the bed with me. If I had to die young I'd be in a good place here and I'd have no problem requesting Liberation to come surround my bed.

I want my organs donated, I don't want to be embalmed, I want to be buried in cloth in the earth or cremated if necessary. Make sure you sing songs and hold hands at my memorial.

Just to be clear, I love my life and I'm not intending to go anywhere anytime soon. All this talking about the reality of death brings the focus around to LIVING.

Thank you, Trudy. Thank you, dear friends.

And a final poem for the night from Sylvia Plath

I Am Vertical

But I would rather be horizontal.

I am not a tree with my root in the soil

Sucking up minerals and motherly love

So that each March I may gleam into leaf,

Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed

Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted,

Unknowing I must soon unpetal.

Compared with me, a tree is immortal

And a flower-head not tall, but more startling,

And I want to the one's longevity and the other's daring.

Tonight, in the infinitesimal light of the stars,

The trees and flowers have been strewing their cool odors.

I walk among them, but none of them are noticing.

Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping

I must most perfectly resemble them -

Thoughts gone dim.

It is more natural to me, lying down.

Then the sky and I are in open conversation,

And I shall be useful when I lie down finally:

The trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me.

Good night.

I'm late, I'm late

2010-03-18T18:19:00.000-07:00

for a very important date.

I missed my blog post this week, but I'll be back very soon. Have several writing assignments for myself in mind.

My sister is holding me accountable which I love.

Miss being here.

Em

Planny Plannerton meets Sister Shoehorn

2010-03-07T19:11:00.000-08:00

The girls watching the awards. I'm typing during the parts of the awards I'm not enamored with keeping one ear open on the conversation around me and an internet window open on the library page to place holds on all the movies I haven't seen yet and the ones I want to see again.

A few years back Dallas dubbed me Planny Plannerton and the name stuck. My sister uses it (and happily has adopted it for herself), R. uses it, my Sunday night dinner/Holiday dinner crowd uses it and Rebecca has shortened it to Planny, as in - "Look at me being all planny." Well, I'm channeling a new personality these days and I've dubbed her Sister Shoehorn.

Sister Shoehorn is the extroverted part of myself that seems to be making up for lost time, riding along on the adrenaline of alignment. She's not being very responsible with that energy, but she doesn't care because everything she's shoehorning in involves fun, volunteering, meaningful conversation, singing, ritual, testimony, a handsome boyfriend, a long overdue shared meal or some combination of the several aforementioned important, good activities or events. Did I forget to mention that Shoehorn tends to forget that she has a j.o.b.!

Planny Plannerton likes to have things on the calendar. Why figure out "when" later? We can get that date on the calendar now! Planny had the skill of looking at the calendar and saying I have too many things going on for the 3rd week in June, sorry I'll have to catch you next time. Or Yancey likes to remind me of the days when I would say sorry I already have plans on two nights this week, I need some alone time. Those days are gone.

Sister Shoehorn has been saying "why not?" a lot lately. Or "I miss them, I can sleep later." I'm not at the Sage level of I'll sleep when I'm dead, praise God, but I feel like I'm headed in that direction. I'm tired. I'm like a little kid that needs to go to bed, but doesn't want to miss anything.

R. has been so patient with me lately. He just stands by while I dig my own grave. It's awesome and cracks me up because I love to tell him about himself. We had a conversation lately where I was telling him that nobody outside of our relationship probably knows this, but I know he's the nicer one in the relationship. Sometimes my honesty has a little edge to it. He said "Ya, maybe you could wrap some of that stuff you say to me in Nerf." I think it would help if I got some more sleep too.

RB (Sara named him Brother Benson this week which I am loving!) used some of his hours at the Academy to talk to us about making a personal rule of life, a modern day Rule of St. Benedict for ourselves. The four categories being: work. community. prayer. rest.

I'm taking a couple days in April to write out that rule with SMK. That weekend retreat and one on one friend time can't come soon enough, but I know it will. There are a lot of good things on the calendar between now and then.

Here's a picture of me the Friday before I left for the Academy. Blissed out sitting in my quiet apartment with the day off spread before me, sitting at my table, assembling poems for the week, and gathering up little totems for the daily altars. I didn't leave myself enough time to prepare and still be a nice, rested person for the week. I was too busy doing all the other things I wanted to do the two weeks before. So I asked my boss on Thursday if I could have the day off on Friday because I was unprepared to take the following week off. He graciously said, yes, sounds like a good idea. I was late to work several days this week because I'm exhausted and not giving myself enough breathing room. Squeezing in personal to-do things in between work tasks. These aren't on my timesheet, but that means I'll have to spend a weekend day in the office later this month or get to work at 7:00 a.m. for a couple of weeks. I wouldn't bet on the 7 a.m. start time.

I forget that I don't just love alone time in my apartment and around the neighborhood - I NEED IT! I need unplanned time, unshoehorned time, and so do the people in my life who spend time with me and work with me - I'm practicing, babe. I'm practicing, Roger.

Less Sister Shoehorn, more Sister Sabbath.

Good night friends,

P.S. The funniest damn thing I've ever heard at the jail after I asked the person I was meeting with if they've ever tried yoga - "[laughing] Yoga? No. [laughing some more] I'm sorry, tell me more. It's good for me to hear what square people do."

Ha!!

Nora Gallagher + Sara Miles

2010-03-02T18:28:00.000-08:00

Just wanted to give credit to Nora Gallagher for the phrase "Practicing Resurrection." It's the title of one of her books that I love. Spiritual memoirs are my favorite genre for sure and so far Nora's books have never made it to the Half Price Books pile when I'm purging. I actually think I'll go back and read Practicing Resurrection someday along with Things Seen and Unseen.

I bought several books at the Academy so I had to restrain myself at the bookstore Suzanne and I stopped at on the way home when I saw Sara Miles has a new memoir out called Jesus Freak: Feeding, Healing, Raising the Dead. Has anyone read this one yet? Sara Miles is the author of the book Take This Break which I loved and has remained on the shelves after a few rounds of purging. I'll probably be reading it again soon given the recent conversations surrounding communion at Liberation. Those conversations made it really hard to resist a book that Nora Gallagher wrote with Phyllis Tickle on Communion called The Sacred Meal as part of the Ancient Practices series. Robert Benson's book In Constant Prayer is a part of that series. Highly recommend. Jesus Freak and The Sacred Meal aren't at the library yet. Sad at first search, but a small blessing that will give me a chance to read what I purchased and the book my mom gave me for Valentine's Day that Sara B. recommended over the phone and on her blog - The Shattered Lantern. No one is going hungry for a good read at my house. And sometime the book lover and the 5 in me just wants the book around me which is different than knowing when the hell I'm going to read it. Practicing restraint too.

Home to do laundry.

Love, Em

O.k. that was a bigger share than planned. Just wanted to give credit to Nora. I don't know where she got it, but I'm trying to live it for myself and believe in it for all of us.

The Layers

2010-03-02T18:07:00.000-08:00

I have walked through many lives,
some of them my own,
and I am not who I was,
though some principle of being
abides, from which I struggle
not to stray.
When I look behind,
as I am compelled to look
before I can gather strength
to proceed on my journey,
I see the milestones dwindling
toward the horizon
and the slow fires trailing
from the abandoned camp-sites,
over which scavenger angels
wheel on heavy wings.
Oh, I have made myself a tribe
out of my true affections,
and my tribe is scattered!
How shall the heart be reconciled
to its feast of losses?
In a rising wind
the manic dust of my friends,
those who fell along the way,
bitterly stings my face.
Yet I turn, I turn,
exulting somewhat,
with my will intact to go
wherever I need to go,
and every stone on the road
precious to me.
In my darkest night,
when the moon was covered
and I roamed through wreckage,
a nimbus-clouded voice
directed me:
"Live in the layers,
not on the litter."
Though I lack the art
to decipher it,
no doubt the next chapter
in my book of transformations
is already written.
I am not done with my changes.

-Stanley Kunitz

This poem introduced itself to me via the Writer's Almanac on July 21, 2008. It meant a lot to me then on that very day and it's returning to me now. The little section at the end floated in while I was working on my sermon Thursday night at the Academy and I went looking for the rest. I'm thankful to be reading it now from a different perspective.