The last two Sunday mornings I have introduced the labyrinth to Sunday School children--4th graders one week and 2nd graders the next. I introduced the labyrinth as a way to feel, know, and open to the presence of God and as a reminder that God is with us every step of our journey.
First, however, I asked them if they had ever walked a maze. And everyone had. They eagerly shared experiences of getting stuck, taking a wrong turn, and needing to back up and start again. One child said she got scared and wondered if she would ever get out of the maze. How many times have we experienced that same panicky, lost feeling?
Then I explained the difference between a maze and a labyrinth. In a labyrinth there is only one way in and once you reach the center, you follow the same path out only in reverse. And then it was time for them to experience a labyrinth. I asked them to remove their shoes, and then we played follow the leader and a version of musical chairs--more like a stop and go game. They were surprised by all the twists and turns of the labyrinth and how long it took to get to the center, but no one got lost.
Finally, it was time for them to walk the labyrinth as a walking meditation. I reminded them to be silent as they walked and to try to walk slowly, slower than they normally walk. That was hard for many of them, especially the 2nd graders. That may be hard for you, too.
But here's what they said when we talked about what they experienced. "Calm." "Peace." One 4th grader said, "I liked the quiet. I got to think about things and I can't do that in my house." A 2nd grader said something similar. I don't know their situations, but I know for many of us feeling calm and peaceful is rare. And, of course, I wondered how many young people need more of that in their lives. Many, I suspect.
Here's what I noticed. Both mornings, most of the children finished walking the labyrinth fairly quickly. I asked them to sit quietly along the side of the labyrinth while a couple remaining children finished walking. I expected that to be a challenge for them, but instead, they were not only respectful of the last walkers, but they seemed to absorb and radiate more calm. The energy in the room changed, and they realized it.
For many of the children this Sunday morning experience may be a one time thing, but perhaps for some this will lead them to walking the labyrinth as a spiritual practice in the future and will be a reminder that we are not alone. God is with us on every step of our journey.
An Invitation
Have you walked a labyrinth? What did you experience? I would love to know.
NOTE: Saturday, May 5 is World Labyrinth Day. To find out about labyrinth opportunities in your area check here.
If you live in Minneapolis-St Paul, Wisdom Ways is offering a tour of labyrinths in the area. Check here for information.
Saturday I attended a retreat at Wisdom Ways facilitated by the gifted teacher/writer Karen Hering. How perfect, I thought, to attend a retreat on Epiphany--a day of gifts from wise beings.
Karen led us through a breathing exercise to simulate how the body feels when it stops clutching and is able to let go. We each know what it means to hold on to something when it no longer serves the person we were created to be, but still we cling to the emotion, the thought, the belief, the habit, the person, the job, the possession.
As we inhaled we closed our palms tightly into a fist, and then after holding our breath, feeling that tenseness, we exhaled through our mouths. Loudly. And as we exhaled, we opened our palms.
Such a good feeling.
During writing time, we each made a list of everything in our life we need to discard. I've done that before and no doubt you have too. Maybe not formally, but in your head when you snarl to yourself and say, "I wish I wasn't so...." or "Why do I always ...." or when you open an overfilled drawer or closet and admonish yourself to do something about that soon.
I didn't have trouble making my own list, a boring, often repeated one.
What felt different this time was the next part of the writing prompt. Complete the phrase "letting go now... ." Here's what I wrote:
Letting go now
I have more space.
I create spaciousness for all I was created to be, for my own essence.
I am able to move forward lightly, but at the same time deeply,
honoring myself and being present to the fullness of my life.
I am lighter.
I am able to be more present to the movement of God within and around me.
I feel hope. I feel gratitude. I feel joy.
I feel possibility. I feel contentment.
I am able to listen to each Sacred Yes, but also each Sacred No as they appear in my life.
Trust me, I have not done the complete work of letting go--I cling to far too much--but this exercise helped me envision how letting go feels and for a moment I was in that spaciousness. It is worth moving towards that reality.
May this new year be one of discovering what is means to let go now.
An Invitation
What's on your Letting Go list? How would you complete the phrase, letting go now....? I would love to know.
The catalogs are arriving, and the emails are appearing. So many choices and directions. How can I possibly do everything I want to do?
This happens every fall when I feel that back to school itch. All the school supplies are piled neatly at Target, and it is hard to resist not buying new notebooks and folders, although, trust me, I have my own embarrassingly rich stash. I am not interested in shopping these days and don't find myself tempted by much, except journals and notepads and pens, but I am doing my best, instead, to shop my drawers, full of those supplies.
This Fall itch, however, is not just about opening up a new notebook. In the fall I seem to take on the behavior of squirrels, gathering winter fuel, making sure I have enough to sustain my needs. In this case, however, it is not physical needs, but instead mental and spiritual needs. In the fall I take on the behavior of the birds, preparing to migrate, but in my case it is migrating into places of learning and stimulation. In the fall I attempt to take on the behavior of the leaves, turning rich colors of red and gold in shades of new knowledge and wider experiences.
Of course, the problem, the ongoing issue, is deciding which choices to select. I hungrily devour the catalog that comes from The Loft Literary Center, knowing that if I were to take each of the writing classes that appeals to me, I would have no time to write. I pour over the material from Wisdom Ways Center for Spirituality which is where I have in the past attended the Monday evening Hedgerow Initiative, an ongoing conversation about sacred wisdom, divine mysteries, and human questions. An email comes from the Minneapolis Institute of Arts with dates for the year's lecture series, and I would love to attend the lecture on Van Gogh and also, one on photography and Native American identity.
Plus, living within walking distance of three colleges and universities, I know most days I could take advantage of a lecture or concert or visit to an art gallery. And how about book talks at bookstores and theatre and concert series and even classes through community recreation centers? I haven't even mentioned opportunities to volunteer and serve, and I know I want to manage my time in order to make contributions where I can.
EEEK!
So much appeals and like the squirrel frenetically hiding nuts in the backyard, I don't want to miss anything. I need to remember my own limits, however, and be aware of when my eyes are bigger than my stomach. Which donut should I choose at the bakery? Which delectable on the menu of a special restaurant? Or which book from my existing towers should I read next? A wealth of temptations.
Just recently, however, I decided at the last minute to not attend a Saturday morning class at The Loft. The week coming up was full of activities, and the weeks before had been highly scheduled, and I knew I needed space more than I needed the information, however worthy and helpful it was likely to be. I don't regret that decision, for immediately I felt some equilibrium return.
This summer I have spent a major part of my time working on a book I am writing. I have taken a twelve week online class that has stretched me, deepened my commitment, and exhausted me. I know I am a better writer because of this class, and I know my book benefits from all the time and effort. I could take the next part in this class, and eventually, I will, but not this fall.
I made that decision after moving into stillness and becoming a listening presence to myself. I asked myself questions about what will be most life-enhancing in the coming months. In what ways do I hope to live, give, and grow? What are my goals as a writer and as a spiritual director? How do I balance family and friend time with work time? What volunteer opportunities resonate with me and where can I be effective? What about leaving space for spontaneity and for rest, restoration, and recreation?
In some ways these questions are the same ones, with some modification, I have lived with most of my adult life. You have probably wrestled with them, too. In our earlier years these were practical, get out the calendar and figure it out questions. Negotiate with your partner, your boss, your kids. Now because I know I have fewer falls ahead of me than the ones I have lived, I view these questions as questions for discernment. At this stage of my life I am more able to push the pause button and sit with these questions, allowing the inner voice of Spirit to start a dialogue with the person who still wants to be productive and to achieve and to accomplish.
I now have a general plan for the fall, but one that is subject to change and modification and for the ways life just seems to happen. Yes, I will write. I will take a couple short term writing classes. I will volunteer at Peter's school and at church, beginning with the retreat I will help lead the end of September. I will meet with spiritual directees and open to ways I can teach. But I am leaving plenty of space for family time, for friend time, for me time.
I will pay attention to the squirrels and the birds and the changing colors of the leaves, and I will pause in the midst of potential busyness and ask my inner voice of Spirit what she thinks.
An Invitation
What questions of discernment are in your life now? I would love to know.
Resources
The Loft Literary Center https://www.loft.org
Wisdom Ways Center for Spirituality http://www.wisdomwayscenter.org
What do you think when you see a house that looks like this? I drive or walk by this house almost daily, but today is the first time I noticed it. That is not too surprising since the house itself is almost totally concealed by steroid-sized shrubs. However, as I walked first thing this morning, that house cloaked in deep, thick, almost impenetrable bushes entered my imagination and my heart.
First, I wondered about the inhabitants of that house. Is this a rental house and a case of an absentee landlord who has ignored the landscaping? Or do recluses live there who have intentionally created a moat of green to keep out any invaders? Do the people who live there only enter the house from the back door and never see how overgrown and oppressive their face to the world has become? Is this a case of old age, lack of money and ability, and a too-large home to manage anymore? What do the neighbors on either side of the house and across the street think? I wonder if this is the house on the block where sidewalks are never shoveled in the winter time. Perhaps no one lives there and the house is empty and lonely.
This house is not the only one in the neighborhood that could use major loving-care. Every neighborhood has homes that for one reason or another are not well-tended or cared for. In some cases the reason is deliberate--the person simply does not care or have pride in how things look. In other cases what started as neat and orderly with gardens and landscaping pleasing to the eye have gotten out of hand. My husband, the head gardener, often points out perennial gardens that are now overbearing, overblown, and in need of ongoing attention, as every garden does to some degree. Of course, neglect can also be the result of lack of money or physical abilities or a different aesthetic from what seems acceptable to most people. Whatever the reason, there is a story attached to each of these unpruned homes.
As I continued my walk, I wondered about this situation and what was being protected behind the thick wall of green. Is there a need to hide from the rest of the world? What fears are represented here? How could anyone feel welcomed approaching this fortress and is that an indication of the inhabitant's need to retreat not only from the external world, but also from his or her own self-awareness? What is being defended or concealed here? I don't think about possessions necessarily, but what emotions and vulnerabilities are secreted here? How is self-growth and self-awareness limited in such an environment, for not only is it daunting to enter, but it becomes hard to get out the front door as well.
Here's the challenge I encountered on this walk, knowing what opportunities for metaphor houses and gardens offer: What have I hidden deep within myself? What am I protecting? What do I prevent from discovering the light? In what ways have I built a fortress, defending myself from unknown invasions? Where do I need to prune and weed and transplant and dig? What deep, well-fortified issues prevent me from being my true self, my whole self?
In what ways do I need to tend my own home? And if not now, when?
Fortunately, there is lots of help available for clearing the barriers, including meeting with a spiritual director, spending time in contemplation and meditation or developing other spiritual practices that open one to deeper self-awareness. My daily walks often move me to greater clarity, especially when I then take time to sit and breathe and allow what I have seen to become part of my interior landscape. With a clearer landscape comes an open and more compassionate heart.
A Gift
Currently, I am reading The Rebirthing of God, Christianity's Struggle for New Beginnings http://heartbeatjourney.org/2014/04/15/the-rebirthing-of-god-2/
by John Philip Newell, whom I heard speak recently at Wisdom Ways, Center for Spirituality. http://wisdomwayscenter.org I offer his words for your reflection.
What does it mean that we are made of God rather than
simply by God? In part it means that the wisdom of God
is deep within us, deeper than the ignorance of what we
have done. It is to say that the creativity of God is deep
within us, deeper than any barrenness in our lives or
relationships, deeper than any endings in our families
or our world. Within us--as a sheer gift of God--is the
capacity to bring forth what has never been before,
including what has never been imagined before. Above
all else, as Julian of Norwich says, the love-longings
of God are at the heart of our being. We and all things
have come forth from the One. Deep within us are holy,
natural longings for oneness, primal sacred drives for
union. We may live in tragic exile from these longings,
or we may have spent a whole lifetime not knowing how
to truly satisfy them, but they are there at the heart of
our being, waiting to be born afresh. p. x
An Invitation
I invite you to walk outside your house and have a good look. Is there something that has been neglected? Can you see what others see? Is it time to prune and bring more light into your heart? I would love to know.
Blessed are those who sweep and scrub for they will find joy in the rhythm of the ordinary.
No, you won't find this verse in The Beatitudes in Matthew 5, but perhaps it was left out by mistake or the women cooking Matthew's meals and doing his laundry didn't have his ear the day he worked on that chapter. No problem, I'll just add it.
On Monday evenings I attend a program at Wisdom Ways Center for Spirituality, a Ministry of the Sisters of St Joseph of Carondolet in St Paul. The sessions are part of the Hedgerow Initiative http://wisdomwayscenter.org/hedgerow-initiative-spring-2014.html which offers programming in "feminist theological education, spiritual integration and leadership for a just and holy world." The name is derived from the hedgerow schools in Ireland that "kept alive the language, faith, culture and community of the people during the time of the British penal codes.
The current series examines the Sunday Gospels from Matthew and John and asks, "What wisdom can we find in the Story and ourselves. What wisdom can we weave to hold us together?"
Wisdom in the Scriptures
Last evening we focused on the Sermon on the Mount found in Matthew 5-7, which includes the verses known as the Beatitudes. Many of the women there, for yes, we are an all female group, related how they had memorized them in Sunday School or Confirmation class. I don't recall doing that, but I had no trouble reciting a couple, "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God," and "Blessed are the peacemakers for they will be called children of God." I suspect they are familiar verses to many regardless of one's faith tradition or background.
Our leader, Joan Mitchell, an extremely bright and knowledgeable scholar, presented these chapters as wisdom literature, offering us precepts for how to live, how to grow through ongoing seeking and searching. Furthermore, she suggested The Beatitudes are generative, meaning we can create more. What is written in the scripture is dynamic and is constantly revised and re-interpreted, depending on what the reader, the seeker brings to the words, The Story.
Finding Our Own Wisdom
As I walked the few blocks home on one of the few nights of this winter when being outside was pleasant, my own Beatitudes rose from my heart.
Blessed are the list makers, for they will stay calm in the rush of demands and will find peace in the priorities.
Blessed are those who turn off their phones, for they will be present.
Blessed are those who wait for spouses and children and repair people and who wait in lines at the grocery store, post office, and Target, for they will develop patience.
Blessed are those who read, for they will never be alone and will find nourishment in new thoughts and ideas.
Blessed are those who so often feel overwhelmed by choices or possibilities or needs, for they will feel overjoyed with opportunities.
Blessed are those with grandchildren, for they will revive with new love and life.
And a new one this morning:
Blessed for those who listen to their bodies and turn off the alarm, for they will awaken refreshed and restored.
Today I return to my father's house for more of the sweeping and scrubbing necessary before putting the house on the market. My body is not eager for the hands and knees work required today, but I will take with me my new personal Beatitude, "Blessed are those who sweep and scrub, for they will find joy in the rhythm of the ordinary."
An Invitation
I invite you to create your own Beatitudes. In what ways are you blessed? What do you see around you that is ripe for a blessing? Become your own Matthew and discover your own wisdom.
