Chair Talk: Thursday's Reflection

I am not surprised, for this happens at this time every year.

Temptation. 

I am tempted by new notebooks and pens--and the classes where I could use them. Catalogs arrive and I want to register for "Seeds and Roots: Growing Sacred Activism" at Wisdom Ways Center for Spirituality, and I want to take a writing class at The Loft. I also want to attend a session called "Votes for Minnesota Women" (http://www.mnhs.org) at the State Capitol and go on a walking tour in the former mill area of Minneapolis.

How about the stack of brochures I've collected over the months for fall art fairs and antique shows? Can I combine those with stops at   apple orchards and meandering down country roads to enjoy the soon to be here fall colors?

At the same time I am bursting with ideas for classes I could teach and ways I could companion others on their spiritual journey. Writing ideas are sprouting out of my fingertips, and I sense a new direction for the chapter I am revising in my spiritual memoir. 

And then there is the house and my desire to nest, to move into the next season. Pumpkins, galore! 

I am tempted by it all. What to do? 

I am reading a book called Wise Aging, Living with Joy, Resilience, and Spirit by Rabbi Rachel Cowan and Dr. Linda Thal, and as often happens, just what I needed appeared. 

First, Rabbi Rachel wrote about a time when she had trouble balancing several areas of her life, and her life coach set up two chairs facing each other and asked her to have a conversation between the two conflicting aspects of herself. Her first response was how corny that idea seemed, but she trusted her coach and dialogued with herself, moving from chair to chair. In that process she clarified priorities and discovered more about who she is and what she most needed to do. 

I think this idea, whether you actually set up the chairs and move from place to place or do this in your head or in your journal, can be extremely helpful. 

Are you feeling muddled or unbalanced or unsure of a next step? Do you feel pulled in many directions? Talk to yourself, yes, but do more than that: Listen to yourself, your inner voice. What is calling you right now? 

I love this story in Wise Aging:

           ...when Rabbi Zusya lay dying on his bed, his
           students gathered around. They were astonished 
           and dismayed when they found him weeping. They
           asked their beloved teacher why he was crying. Could
           it be that he was afraid of meeting God at the entrance
           of heaven? Was he worried that God would ask him
           why he had not been a visionary pioneer like Abraham?
           Rabbi Rusya answered that he has no such worry, for
           after all, God had not made him like Abraham. Then
           perhaps God would criticize him for not being like
           Moses, the most humble of leaders? "Heavens no, the
           rabbi replied. "If God had wanted me to be like Moses,
           God would have made me like Moses. No," he told them.
           "I am weeping because I fear that the Holy One will ask
           me why I was not Zusya."

Who have you been created to be? And how will you reach towards the fulfillment of that creation? 

You might be surprised by what the chair whispers to you.

An Invitation
What possibilities tempt you now? I would love to know. 

Routines: Tuesday's Reflection

Saturday morning I cleaned the house. Actually, not the whole house. Just the first floor and the stairs leading up to the garret. But actually, not even the entire first floor. I left the kitchen till after I made the first fall batch of applesauce, muffins, and tomato soup. 

After cleaning the first floor, I grocery shopped, along with all the people whose only chance to shop is on the weekends. "Why did I do that?" I asked myself after standing in line for far too long. 

When I returned home, I stationed myself in the kitchen to bake and cook.

I am a hometender and don't mind these tasks. I love having a neat, organized, and attractive home, and I enjoy good tasting food I have fixed myself. 

But why Saturday? I don't always clean on the weekends, but I admit that is often my habit. And I try to stay out of the grocery store on the weekends, but plans change or I didn't think ahead to cover weekend meals. 

I think I still live in a week day/weekend mentality, even though my husband is retired, and my work life is varied and flexible. 

We praise ourselves when we go to a movie in the middle of the week or even more amazing, if we go to one in the middle of the day! Or we laugh about how decadent we are if we meet friends for brunch on a Tuesday, instead of Saturday or Sunday. Neither of us have to consult with anyone  if we want to take a day "off" to go on a day trip on a Thursday, but it still feels a little sinful to do so. 

And if I stay up late (if I can stay awake, that is) to read or watch a movie, I worry that I won't be able to get up at my normal time. I'll "pay" for staying up past my routine bed time. Well, who cares?

Old routines, old habits die hard, it seems. 

Don't get me wrong, I believe in the gift of routines. I know writing first thing in the morning works well for me. Ideas flow more easily if I head to the garret before I get dressed, and then I know no matter what else happens during the day, at least I have had writing time. I also know I need quiet time during the day for meditation and prayer. And I know reading before I go to bed relaxes me.  Taking a walk every day is good for me, body, mind and spirit, but I am afraid that is not as much part of my daily routine. So often I let other "routine" tasks get in the way. 

This is a stage of life, it seems to me, when we can decide the role of routine in our lives. How much do we need routine to dictate what we do and when we do it? Do our routines and habits enhance our lives or are they leftovers from the years when we had to show up at the office at a certain time or get the kids off to school? How much are our habits simply habits? 

I am still a planner, but I try to think about the rhythm of each day, the flow of each week and insert ongoing life tasks when they fit, when they are truly needed. Like paying bills or doing laundry. I have a ways to go, however, before the division between week days and weekend has little meaning. (Do you remember the Dowager Countess, on Downton Abbey, the character played by Maggie Smith, asking, "What's a weekend?)  

Remember the embroidered dishtowels --one for each day of the week--that ordered our days? "Wash on Monday." "Iron on Tuesday." And the week marched on until "Rest on Sunday" finally arrived. I am grateful my life no longer has that kind of rigidity.

Now I try to listen to my body, mind, and spirit. What is it I most want to do? How do I want to use my energy? With and for whom? What am I being called to do and in what ways is God moving with me through the day?

My hope is to live each day in the wholeness, the fullness of time. 

An Invitation
How ruled are you by routine? I would love to know. 

Writing as Spiritual Practice: Thursday's Reflection

Frankly, I would have preferred to stay home tucked in the snug or hidden in our "Paris Garden" sanctuary. I was feeling on the verge of an achey flu, thanks to the second shingles shot I received the day before. 

Staying home was not an option, however, for it was the last session in a seven part summer writing series, In Your Words, Writing as a Spiritual Practice, which I had organized at our church, Gloria Dei Lutheran Church. I was grateful I was not teaching this session, but had already led my session on journal writing a couple weeks earlier. I gathered all my supplies, including a smile, and headed off to prepare the snack and registration tables. 

Soon participants arrived.

               "I can't believe this is the last session. Are you sure 
               there isn't another one?"

               "Thank you so much. I love coming here and writing."

               "What a gift this series has been."

Well, it was enough to turn a girl's head!

The last session was titled "Who Am I NOW?" and was presented by poet Ann Niedringhaus, who, of course, did an excellent job. Along with time to write, she included time when the small groups could share what they had written or what they had learned during that writing experience.

Fellowship Hall buzzed with lively conversations. In many cases these were writers who hadn't thought about themselves as writers, but felt some kind of yearning. These were writers who found a safe and supportive community, at least for an afternoon. These were writers who had a new mission --to complete or start a project. These were writers who now viewed writing as a spiritual practice, a way to develop a deeper relationship with God and to move closer to being the person they were created to be. 

One woman, who does major caretaking, told me at the end of the session, "This series has been my vacation." 

Wow, we had offered her a time out. A kind of spa experience, minus the manicures and facials. 

I've always known that writing can be a way to find out what you didn't realize you already knew, as well as a way to grow, to evaluate and clarify, to create the next step, and to find the extraordinary in the ordinary. These sessions have reminded me that writing is also a way to take care of oneself, a way to gather wisdom, and a way to spend time with the Divine. 

During these seven sessions I felt the Presence of the Sacred.

The series may have ended, but for many the writing will continue. 
What about you? Here are a few prompts to help you begin:
                 *  What is my heart's desire? What is my call
                     at this stage of my life?
                 *  When have I felt most alive? What makes me    
                      feel most alive now?
                 *   My cup brims over when...
                 *   What part of my life most needs the powerful touch 
                       of God.

Just put one word after another and see what is revealed.

An Invitation
Write! I would love to know what happens. 

PS: I feel better this morning, and I am really happy to know I won't get shingles. Have you gotten your shots? 

Sitting in Silence: Tuesday's Reflection

Here I am at my desk, and it is time to write my post. What should I write? I don't have a clue. I'm grateful this doesn't happen to me very often, but, nevertheless, I don't have a topic burning to be released through my fingertips.

Sometimes in a spiritual direction session, my directee says, "I don't know what I want to talk about today." So we sit in silence for a bit and something emerges. Often something from a very deep place. Sometimes a passing thought crosses the threshold and comes into the light. Or sometimes we float, beginning with what seems insignificant and more often than not that leads to a surprising insight. 

So this morning I sat in silence. And more silence. And nothing emerged. Nothing deep or surprising. Nothing compelling or even mildly interesting. 

I simply sat in silence. 

I heard a garbage truck in the alley, the little girl across the street crying, my husband pounding something in the garage, an airplane, my laptop whirring gently, a car going past, a dog barking and barking some more, and a neighbor's garage door going up and then down. 

I didn't hear any new or original thoughts to pursue. Not one. 

I took a deep breath and another and massaged my forehead, my eyebrows, my eyes and down to my cheeks and lips. I cupped my hands under my chin, enjoying the warmth. I covered my ears with my hands, creating even more silence. The kind of silence when all you hear is your own heartbeat. 

I felt myself drift from waiting for inspiration to surrendering to the silence. 

I could stay here all day, I think. 

Ah, here it is. How do I bring this quality of silence, of stillness, the unwrinkled forehead and the even breathing into my day? That's the invitation, the gift. 

And that's enough.

An Invitation
What happens when you sit in silence? I would love to know. 

A Day's Gifts: Tuesday's Reflection

Some days are just gifts.

Saturday

* Started the day with meditation time followed by writing time.

*  Did some light home tending. 

*  Harvested basil from our garden and made the first batch of pesto.




* Celebrated our daughter's birthday. What an ongoing gift she is in our lives. 










*  Responded to emails that had accumulated during the week. 

*  Went to a 4:30 movie at our favorite neighborhood theater. (Late Night with Emma Thompson and Mindy Kaling --loved it.) Enjoyed a popcorn supper.

*  Spent the rest of the evening reading in the snug.

*  Turned out the light early and slept well.

What a privilege a day like this is. Trust me, I know how privileged I am. 

An Invitation
What does a privileged day feel like to you? I would love to know. 

 NOTE: I am taking a brief break--will be back Tuesday, August 20. 

                               

Pray in the Shower: Thursday's Reflection

Pray all day.

Pray in all places. 

Pray all ways. 

Today my best prayer time was in the shower. I always give thanks for the gift of a shower--the steady stream of clean water, the temperature I regulate, the feeling of being squeaky clean from head to toes. I try not to focus on the sags, the wrinkles and spots--that's enough detail--but instead to give thanks for a body that has served me well and continues to support the life I most want to have. 

This morning, however, as the water cleansed me, I prayed for the cleansing of our nation. I prayed for all those who are in deep sorrow, such unexpected and unnecessary sorrow. I prayed for those who feel lost or unknown or powerless or alone. I prayed for those who feel driven and convinced of one way being the only way, one thought being the only thought. I prayed that new responses may be found. I prayed for open hearts, a change of heart.

I know prayer is not enough, but it is something I can do, even when I am in the shower. 

Today I intend to pray as I climb the stairs to the garret and pause at the landing to look out at the summer garden. I will pray each time I tap the "send" button on my laptop. I will pray when I sort the wash, and if I iron, I will pray then, too. I will pray before I call Mitch McConnell's office, urging him to call back senators to vote on universal background checks (202-224-2541). I will pray when I bring in the mail and when I open the bills. I will pray before my spiritual directee comes and after she leaves. I will pray as I cook the brats and butter the buns for dinner. I will pray as I walk to the snug to read. I will pray as I enter rest. 

Often, my prayers are wordless. How can that be prayer? Well, more and more I think of prayer as a kind of awareness, the way I try to live my days, the rhythm of my days. A way of being present,  not just to myself and my needs, but to the beat of the world around me. How can that not be prayer?

I pray as I write posts for this blog, and that means I pray for each of you who read these posts. 

An Invitation

When do you feel like praying? I would love to know.  

Touch the Sky and Praying with Bison: Tuesdays' Reflection

I intended today's post to be about a field trip Bruce and I took to Blue Mounds State Park and Touch the Sky Prairie, both in Luverne, MN, about three and a half hours from our St Paul home.


























I intended to rejoice in the beauty of the prairie--its wildflowers, its expanse where one feels and sees the wind, its diversity and its invitation to open one's eyes and look far into the horizon. I intended to share my surprise when a hawk lifted up in front of me and when one of the trails ended at a waterfall, and the sound of the water mixed with the sound of the wind.




I intended to share all sorts of facts about bison, thanks to our knowledgeable and enthusiastic guide, Amber, at the Blue Mounds State Park, where there is a herd of about 70 bison. "I love bison," she proclaimed, and maybe, I do now, too! Buffalo and bison are the same, she told us as we bounced along a rough trail in an open safari like vehicle. Herds are matriarchal with only one male in attendance during breeding season, and each herd has a well-defined hierarchy. I was intending to share these facts and more.

I intended to encourage you to visit the wonders that may exist almost in your back yard. What would someone from a distance travel to see that you have been meaning to see yourself, but haven't yet? I intended to promote local tourism and to give thanks and praise to all those who have helped maintain these gifts of beauty.

Instead, I am compelled to express my deep sadness again because of the senseless tragedies of this past weekend. Instead, I cry, "Oh, no. Not again." 

At the same time I intend to pay attention to the lessons and the gifts of the prairie and the bison and offer them to you.

Just as the prairie grasses reach toward the sky, we can lift our hopes, our prayers.

Just as the wildflowers in all their glorious colors and shapes grow together, blooming in each other's company, so can we.

Just as bison remind us of earlier times when indigenous peoples were the rightful inhabitants of this land, and  white Europeans were the immigrants, we can open our arms and hearts to all those who seek refuge. 

Just as Native American spirituality honors the bison as a symbol of prayer and abundance, we can remember that all life is sacred.

               To honor another's pathway, even if it brings
               you sadness, is part of the message that Buffalo
               brings. This may be a time of reconnection to the
               meaning of life and the value of peace. Most 
               assuredly this time will bring serenity amidst 
               the chaos if you pray in earnest for enlightenment
               and the power of calmness and give praise for the
               gifts you already have.  
                                 Medicine Cards, The Discovery of Power
                                 Through the Ways of Animals
                                  Jamie Sams and David Carson

Just as our exuberant guide Amber invited us to enter a minute of silence as we watched the bison, I invite you to sit in silence and lift a prayer for all who survive, for all who have a chance to make a difference, and that we may each reach beyond our own false limitations and just do something.

An Invitation
What is your intention today? I would love to know.

Time with Marianne Williamson: Thursday's Reflection

Some mornings I hang out with Joan Chittister or Jan Richardson or Joyce Rupp--three of my favorite writers on faith and spirituality. Yesterday morning, after watching the presidential debate the night before,  I decided to spend some quality time with Marianne Williamson.

Before going any further, I want to say this post is not an endorsement of her candidacy, but I am glad she had a place on the stage, and I appreciate her call to us to be "truth-tellers."

I gathered her books, settled into my Girlfriend Chair in the garret, and grazed through her words. I remembered how for a period of time I started my day reciting her "Morning Prayer" in her book Illuminata, A Return to Prayer.

                          Dear God,
                          I give this day to You...
                          I surrender to You my doings this day.
                          I ask only that they serve You and the healing
                                of the world.
                          May I bring Your love and goodness with me, to
                                give unto others wherever I go.
                          Make me the person You would have me be...
                          Make the world a safer, more beautiful place. 

I turned to a section in the book, first published in 1994, called "Prayers for the World." (Here's the end of that prayer.)

                          May we be repaired.
                          May we be forgiven.
                          May our children be blessed.
                          May we be renewed.
                          Dear God, please bless America.
                          Amen.
                                     from "Prayer for America"

and from "Prayers for the Leaders"

                         May their words be true...
                         May they grow beyond a shallow fight.
                         And thus may we all be taken with them into
                                 new light, new peace, new politics, new hope
                                 for all the world.
                         Amen. 

Williamson writes about hatred in America,

                  In the United States today, there is a widespread,
                  malignant thought form that other people are the
                  problem. Conservatives tend to blame liberals for
                  our problems, while liberals blame conservatives. 
                  The media blames almost everyone, and almost
                  everyone blames immigrants. Some people are
                  convinced homosexuals are the problem, while
                  others think that single mothers are the problem.
                  Still others think the Christian Right is the problem,
                  and far, far too many people think that our parents
                  were the problem. The entire culture has become a
                  hysterical blame session.  p. 219-220  

The labels or vocabulary may have changed since the 90's, but the blaming persists and the hatred has accelerated. 

                         May I hear not the voice for anger, but only
                               the voice for love...
                         Transform all darkness into light, dear God...
                                                               p. 220

When my mother was dying from colon cancer, she read Williamson's Everyday Grace, Having Hope, Finding Forgiveness, and Making Miracles. I remember that we talked about the statement, "A miracle is simply a shift in perception," and how the calm and peace she felt during those months seemed like a miracle to her. That's a blessed memory for me.

Today, however, I focus on another section in this book, published in 2002. 
              Our task is not to avoid or deny the darkness of the
              world, but to lift it into the light...Our function is not
              to ignore the darkness, but to transform it by becoming
              the light. The spiritual activist doesn't dwell on what's
              wrong, but at the same time we must know what's 
              wrong in order to surrender it. p. 90-91

As I listen to the news and the analysis after the debates, I hold Williamson's words in my heart, "Think of the news as humanity's prayer list." 

I don't know if Williamson should be the next president, but I am grateful to spend time with her, and holding her books in my hands, I pray. 

An Invitation
As we move further into the presidential contest, what are your prayers? I would love to know.