We sat around the table drinking tea, enjoying the voice of Fairuz, a Lebanese singer, sharing pieces of the journey and how we handle them. We talked about careers – what we have done, what we have been and what defined us then, and how it differs now. The interesting thing is that each of us had a connection to nursing, yet none of us directly work in a hospital environment at present. Four different women with very different lives, yet the thread of nursing in each of our lives.
I was sharing with them how 10 years ago I applied to nursing school but didn’t get in. I wanted to be a mid-wife. In sacred space this morning I held that in the Light and let Him show me more. I had gone to night school for 3 years before applying yet it didn’t get me into the program. Part of night school was an English course and by “mistake” I took creative writing instead of the required course. There I learned what a passion I had for writing and it began to flow.
Each of the women at the table has various degrees, and I have a certificate from a school of culinary arts. I do not have my Red Seal – the chef’s “degree” and I have no desire to get it either.
With my Christmas lights on and the glow of the fire and Sebastian the cat at my feet in front of the fire, I know that I have been called to be a mid-wife. Almost daily I am with or speaking to women who are laboring to give birth to freedom, to hope. Their labor through the healing process is long and painful. In many ways these last few years I have been in labor and it was a stillbirth. Hope, then despair, and the dark days of wondering why, or how, or when…waiting and waiting. Yet what has also been birthed is freedom. I hold it in my hands, I touch it and listen to it, hold it close and am learning to walk with it and wear it, to know it is my own.
When food is on the table it is a time to share, to enjoy, to laugh and to go deep. Often what has been labored with in another room is born and its first cry, its voice is heard in sharing around the table.
What is our chosen career? What is our designed career? Many are in the active waiting place for that to be unfolded. They are in labor. We wait with them, walk the floors with them as they wait.
Food may be my art gallery but it is also part of my midwifery calling. I never saw the connection until I sat in sacred space this morning. Amazing what you find in the morning glow! And amazing to celebrate what has been birthed through the pain.
Monday, November 29, 2004
Saturday, November 27, 2004
My audience
An audience
Well I have been trying to practice for the next rehearsal of the Messiah and Sebastian the cat just sits and stares. He hasn't exactly communicated his approval as I try to reach those notes that my vocal cords haven't seen for a while but on the other hand he hasn't howled in pain! An audience of one - even it is a feline, isn't so bad after all. God has a good sense of humour.
Friday, November 26, 2004
Receiving and Giving A Blessing
Touch, in a world that seems to want distance, is something that every human still longs for: healthy, appropriate, authentic touch. Reading the following article on Blessing, by Henri J W Nouwen
has me wondering if we also long to hear the heart beat that comes from being held close, and having much more communicated.
This is a rich and powerful story that has me longing to be blessed, to know more deeply what Jesus meant when He said “blessed are they who…”
To give someone a blessing is the most significant affirmation we can offer. It is more than a word of praise or appreciation; it is more than pointing out someone’s talents or good deeds; it is more than putting someone in the light. To give a blessing is to affirm, to say “yes” to a person’s Belovedness. And more than that: to give a blessing creates the reality of which it speaks.
Not long ago, in my own community, I had a very personal experience of the power of a real blessing. Shortly before I started a prayer service in one of our houses, Janet, a handicapped member of our community, said to me: “Henri, can you give me a blessing?” I responded in a somewhat automatic way by tracing with my thumb the sign of the cross on her forehead. Instead of being grateful, however, she protested vehemently, “No, that doesn’t work. I want a real blessing!” I suddenly became aware of the ritualistic quality of my response to her request and said, “Oh, I am sorry… let me give you a real blessing when we are all together for the prayer service.” She nodded with a smile, and I realized that something special was required of me. After the service, when about thirty people were sitting in a circle on the floor, I said, “Janet has asked me for a special blessing. She feels that she needs that now.” As I was saying this, I didn’t know what Janet really wanted. But Janet didn’t leave me in doubt for very long. As soon as I had said, “Janet has asked me for a special blessing,” she stood up and walked toward me. I was wearing a long white robe with ample sleeves covering my hands as well as my arms. Spontaneously, Janet put her arms around me and put her head against my chest. Without thinking, I covered her with my sleeves so that she almost vanished in the folds of my robe. As we held each other, I said, “Janet I want you to know that you are God’s Beloved Daughter. You are precious in God’s eyes. Your beautiful smile, your kindness to the people in your house and all the good things you do show us what a beautiful human being you are. I know you feel a little low these days and that there is some sadness in your heart, but I want you to remember who you are: a very special person, deeply loved by God and all the people who are here with you.”
As I said these words, Janet raised her head and looked at me; and her broad smile showed that she had really heard and received the blessing.
The most touching moment, however, came when one of the assistants, a twenty-four-year-old student, raised his hand and said, “And what about me?” “Sure,” I said. “Come.” He came, and, as we stood before each other, I put my arms around him and said, “John, it is so good that you are here. You are God’s Beloved Son. Your presence is a joy for all of us. When things are hard and life is burdensome, always remember that you are loved with an everlasting love.” As I spoke these words, he looked at me with tears in his eyes and then he said, “Thank you, thank you very much
From Life of The Beloved: Spiritual Living in a Secular World
A blessing is so much more than a hug. A blessing is when you know your heart was heard and in that safe place you heard their heart beat. It isn’t about the words, but it is all about the heart that speaks to you.
Abba, as Your Beloved Daughter I come to be enfolded in Your arms and receive blessing, to hear your heart beat and absorb Your love, have Your Spirit breathed on me, into me even more fully. Fill me with You so it will flow out of my heart and I can be Your arms to bless, affirm and hold another in the Light. Amen.
has me wondering if we also long to hear the heart beat that comes from being held close, and having much more communicated.
This is a rich and powerful story that has me longing to be blessed, to know more deeply what Jesus meant when He said “blessed are they who…”
To give someone a blessing is the most significant affirmation we can offer. It is more than a word of praise or appreciation; it is more than pointing out someone’s talents or good deeds; it is more than putting someone in the light. To give a blessing is to affirm, to say “yes” to a person’s Belovedness. And more than that: to give a blessing creates the reality of which it speaks.
Not long ago, in my own community, I had a very personal experience of the power of a real blessing. Shortly before I started a prayer service in one of our houses, Janet, a handicapped member of our community, said to me: “Henri, can you give me a blessing?” I responded in a somewhat automatic way by tracing with my thumb the sign of the cross on her forehead. Instead of being grateful, however, she protested vehemently, “No, that doesn’t work. I want a real blessing!” I suddenly became aware of the ritualistic quality of my response to her request and said, “Oh, I am sorry… let me give you a real blessing when we are all together for the prayer service.” She nodded with a smile, and I realized that something special was required of me. After the service, when about thirty people were sitting in a circle on the floor, I said, “Janet has asked me for a special blessing. She feels that she needs that now.” As I was saying this, I didn’t know what Janet really wanted. But Janet didn’t leave me in doubt for very long. As soon as I had said, “Janet has asked me for a special blessing,” she stood up and walked toward me. I was wearing a long white robe with ample sleeves covering my hands as well as my arms. Spontaneously, Janet put her arms around me and put her head against my chest. Without thinking, I covered her with my sleeves so that she almost vanished in the folds of my robe. As we held each other, I said, “Janet I want you to know that you are God’s Beloved Daughter. You are precious in God’s eyes. Your beautiful smile, your kindness to the people in your house and all the good things you do show us what a beautiful human being you are. I know you feel a little low these days and that there is some sadness in your heart, but I want you to remember who you are: a very special person, deeply loved by God and all the people who are here with you.”
As I said these words, Janet raised her head and looked at me; and her broad smile showed that she had really heard and received the blessing.
The most touching moment, however, came when one of the assistants, a twenty-four-year-old student, raised his hand and said, “And what about me?” “Sure,” I said. “Come.” He came, and, as we stood before each other, I put my arms around him and said, “John, it is so good that you are here. You are God’s Beloved Son. Your presence is a joy for all of us. When things are hard and life is burdensome, always remember that you are loved with an everlasting love.” As I spoke these words, he looked at me with tears in his eyes and then he said, “Thank you, thank you very much
From Life of The Beloved: Spiritual Living in a Secular World
A blessing is so much more than a hug. A blessing is when you know your heart was heard and in that safe place you heard their heart beat. It isn’t about the words, but it is all about the heart that speaks to you.
Abba, as Your Beloved Daughter I come to be enfolded in Your arms and receive blessing, to hear your heart beat and absorb Your love, have Your Spirit breathed on me, into me even more fully. Fill me with You so it will flow out of my heart and I can be Your arms to bless, affirm and hold another in the Light. Amen.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Accepting Scraps
She was desperate, pleading, begging. She was ignored, told she was driving people crazy. She came back to the one who had ignored her in the first place, went down on her hands and knees, totally humiliating herself, begging. When she was again mocked, she replied that beggar dogs get scraps from the table. She was willing to accept anything – even the scraps.
He gave in and said “what you want is what you get”.
Matthew 15:21-31 The Message.
This is a very confusing story, and most unlike the One who usually gave dignity and worth to the women who came to Him. Here He almost mocked and belittled her. Why? What is this all about?
She was desperate and would do anything to get her hearts desire – for her daughter to be well. Could it be that Jesus strange behaviour was in fact a mirror to allow those around Him to see what they were doing? Could it be He was showing us what we do to others that we don’t want around us? Yet when she totally humiliated herself and begged for scraps, Jesus gave in saying “Oh women, your faith is something else” and He gave her her hearts desire – her daughter was made well.
This woman had a strength and tenacity that I want. She was willing to be totally humiliated and seen as crazy but she knew the one place, the One person who could change her world. That is where she went and where she stayed until He did change her world.
All too often it has been my lack of self worth that has had me in a place where I have accepted scraps. They didn’t make me whole, didn’t nurture or heal my soul. I went begging for them in places that were not safe, seeking friendship, seeking wholeness and seeking to heal the wounds deep inside. In the silence, in sacred space He is tenderly revealing the truth and in grace and love showing my heart that scraps were never His intention for me. They were never God’s intention for anyone. In the place of humiliation and vulnerability with Abba, He is walking with me to learn to trust His choices.
I still don’t understand why Jesus treated this woman this way and why He relented when she begged for scraps. He doesn’t want any of us to accept scraps, or to beg for leftovers to get what we need in our lives, to get our hearts desire. All I know is that spending time with my Abba, staying there as He changes my world, is the only place I can be right now to be safe and know it isn’t scraps He is sharing it is the best of His world.
How exquisite your love, O God!
How eager we are to run under your wings,
To eat our fill at the banquet you spread
As you fill our tankards with Eden spring water.
You’re a fountain of cascading light,
And you open our eyes to light.
Psalm 36: 7-9
Keep company with God, get in on the best.
Open up before God, keep nothing back;
He’ll do whatever needs to be done:
He’ll validate your life in the clear light of day
And stamp you with approval at high noon.
Psalm 37:4-6
He gave in and said “what you want is what you get”.
Matthew 15:21-31 The Message.
This is a very confusing story, and most unlike the One who usually gave dignity and worth to the women who came to Him. Here He almost mocked and belittled her. Why? What is this all about?
She was desperate and would do anything to get her hearts desire – for her daughter to be well. Could it be that Jesus strange behaviour was in fact a mirror to allow those around Him to see what they were doing? Could it be He was showing us what we do to others that we don’t want around us? Yet when she totally humiliated herself and begged for scraps, Jesus gave in saying “Oh women, your faith is something else” and He gave her her hearts desire – her daughter was made well.
This woman had a strength and tenacity that I want. She was willing to be totally humiliated and seen as crazy but she knew the one place, the One person who could change her world. That is where she went and where she stayed until He did change her world.
All too often it has been my lack of self worth that has had me in a place where I have accepted scraps. They didn’t make me whole, didn’t nurture or heal my soul. I went begging for them in places that were not safe, seeking friendship, seeking wholeness and seeking to heal the wounds deep inside. In the silence, in sacred space He is tenderly revealing the truth and in grace and love showing my heart that scraps were never His intention for me. They were never God’s intention for anyone. In the place of humiliation and vulnerability with Abba, He is walking with me to learn to trust His choices.
I still don’t understand why Jesus treated this woman this way and why He relented when she begged for scraps. He doesn’t want any of us to accept scraps, or to beg for leftovers to get what we need in our lives, to get our hearts desire. All I know is that spending time with my Abba, staying there as He changes my world, is the only place I can be right now to be safe and know it isn’t scraps He is sharing it is the best of His world.
How exquisite your love, O God!
How eager we are to run under your wings,
To eat our fill at the banquet you spread
As you fill our tankards with Eden spring water.
You’re a fountain of cascading light,
And you open our eyes to light.
Psalm 36: 7-9
Keep company with God, get in on the best.
Open up before God, keep nothing back;
He’ll do whatever needs to be done:
He’ll validate your life in the clear light of day
And stamp you with approval at high noon.
Psalm 37:4-6
Saturday, November 20, 2004
Barefoot Freedom
As I continue this journey into knowing truth, the kind that has freedom written all over it, I am constantly surprised at the way the messages are delivered to my heart!
Yesterday as I celebrated my birthday the whisper of freedom was everywhere I looked. A double rainbow in full technicolour was painted in the foreground with majestic mountain peaks in the background. Wild and free, calling me more deeply into being alive in it.
Birthday hugs that came with unconditional love and amazing grace and patience that spoke to me of the hearts that have laboured with me through the birthing pains into freedom.
Sitting with two friends at Intime (In-tee-may), I heard more stories of women who have somehow bought into the illusion that they must keep their heart in bondage. They have not yet heard, or somehow have become deaf to the call of freedom that their heart and souls were designed to live in.
Does freedom come overnight, like a prisoner being released from the prison they have sat in? The technicality of freedom maybe have come but life, in truth, and in freedom, is a step by step process, that many of us are learning to walk in.
Walking in freedom. The more I go deep sea diving into the truth of freedom, freedom in my femininity, freedom for my heart and soul, the more I see myself barefoot. This picture of barefoot freedom continues to be developed. It is not an instant Polaroid photo, but rather the slowly developing picture puzzle of it. It is starting from my soul upwards. Right now I am standing in the water of life, the sea of life. The waves lap up over my bare feet. It isn’t always nice soft sun-warmed sand I feel – sometimes it is the uneven rocks in these waters and I am learning to get my balance as my feet get used to the discomfort of the rocks. The thing about barefoot freedom is the letting go of the old ways of dulling or blocking the pain. There is nothing between my soul and the reality of life with the good, bad and the ugly. This truth freedom is about trusting my Divine Maestro enough to know that standing, here, now, I can really FEEL life as it ebbs and flows around me as I walk fully immersed in it.
Women of Africa walk barefoot, clothed in glorious colours, graciously, fluidly swaying as they walk, the soul of their foot in touch with the rawness of the earth and life. Women of India dance barefoot, graciously, fluidly, with every movement of their body being in tune with the vibrations of the inner melody that they sway to. Their feet in particular move with precision and purpose and with intricate beauty. They too are clothed in gloriously rich vibrant natural fabric garments that display their femininity in a mysterious way. Their feet are sure and strong as they are placed upon the ground, whether it is the daily business of life or the dance of life. Indeed, they are intricately intertwined. I have not yet fully defined it but I know that there is an unrestricted quality to walking barefoot in life that I want to learn from these women.
I have just come back from “my bit of beach” where I have watched the sun go down. My two companions and I sipped hot tea as we sat wrapped in our warm blankets on this cold November evening. The cold air and the muted voice of the sea were delightfully invigorating and soothing at the same time. The simplicity and reality of this very moment was another glimpse of barefoot freedom that allowed my soul to contentedly sway to the serenade of the sea breathing upon the shore.
There is more I want to learn about barefoot freedom and I am sure my Divine Maestro is ready to continue developing the picture.
Yesterday as I celebrated my birthday the whisper of freedom was everywhere I looked. A double rainbow in full technicolour was painted in the foreground with majestic mountain peaks in the background. Wild and free, calling me more deeply into being alive in it.
Birthday hugs that came with unconditional love and amazing grace and patience that spoke to me of the hearts that have laboured with me through the birthing pains into freedom.
Sitting with two friends at Intime (In-tee-may), I heard more stories of women who have somehow bought into the illusion that they must keep their heart in bondage. They have not yet heard, or somehow have become deaf to the call of freedom that their heart and souls were designed to live in.
Does freedom come overnight, like a prisoner being released from the prison they have sat in? The technicality of freedom maybe have come but life, in truth, and in freedom, is a step by step process, that many of us are learning to walk in.
Walking in freedom. The more I go deep sea diving into the truth of freedom, freedom in my femininity, freedom for my heart and soul, the more I see myself barefoot. This picture of barefoot freedom continues to be developed. It is not an instant Polaroid photo, but rather the slowly developing picture puzzle of it. It is starting from my soul upwards. Right now I am standing in the water of life, the sea of life. The waves lap up over my bare feet. It isn’t always nice soft sun-warmed sand I feel – sometimes it is the uneven rocks in these waters and I am learning to get my balance as my feet get used to the discomfort of the rocks. The thing about barefoot freedom is the letting go of the old ways of dulling or blocking the pain. There is nothing between my soul and the reality of life with the good, bad and the ugly. This truth freedom is about trusting my Divine Maestro enough to know that standing, here, now, I can really FEEL life as it ebbs and flows around me as I walk fully immersed in it.
Women of Africa walk barefoot, clothed in glorious colours, graciously, fluidly swaying as they walk, the soul of their foot in touch with the rawness of the earth and life. Women of India dance barefoot, graciously, fluidly, with every movement of their body being in tune with the vibrations of the inner melody that they sway to. Their feet in particular move with precision and purpose and with intricate beauty. They too are clothed in gloriously rich vibrant natural fabric garments that display their femininity in a mysterious way. Their feet are sure and strong as they are placed upon the ground, whether it is the daily business of life or the dance of life. Indeed, they are intricately intertwined. I have not yet fully defined it but I know that there is an unrestricted quality to walking barefoot in life that I want to learn from these women.
I have just come back from “my bit of beach” where I have watched the sun go down. My two companions and I sipped hot tea as we sat wrapped in our warm blankets on this cold November evening. The cold air and the muted voice of the sea were delightfully invigorating and soothing at the same time. The simplicity and reality of this very moment was another glimpse of barefoot freedom that allowed my soul to contentedly sway to the serenade of the sea breathing upon the shore.
There is more I want to learn about barefoot freedom and I am sure my Divine Maestro is ready to continue developing the picture.
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
Noise Pollution
You know those times when you are walking down the street and you are assailed by such a cacophony of sound that you cannot differentiate between them?
When I was studying at the Pacific Institute of Culinary Arts I lived in downtown Vancouver, close to Granville Island. It is a beautiful spot but it is located under the Granville Street Bridge where traffic never ceases. I remember heading home on one particular evening where the traffic noise was horrendous and seemed drown out every other sound of beauty. But as I walked along I became aware of the music of thousands of birds that were resting under the bridge. While they rested they sang and that song rose above the noise pollution of the traffic. Sweet indeed.
I have been reading the passage in Matthew 15 on What Pollutes Your Life, and not being able to figure it out. Then yesterday I read a piece in Life of the Beloved by Henri Nouwen. He writes, You will discover a cry welling up from the depths of the human heart that has remained unheard because there was no one to listen. Parker Palmer wrote It often takes years for our hearts to speak, and when they do we often cannot hear them, having been deafened by the system… He was also quoting the Woodcarver poem when he wrote, At every possible level…(he would) forget the externals so that he could remember his inner truth.
Jesus said“These people make a big show of saying the right thing, but their heart isn’t in it. They act like they’re worshipping me, but they don’t mean it. They just use me as a cover for teaching whatever suits their fancy.”
Noise pollution. It’s the rhetoric and the show that doesn’t say much at all – it just becomes noise pollution. All the noise that is the traffic of life in the heart drowns out the true voice of our heart. How many of us have lived silently screaming on the inside but unable to voice any of it? How many of us have yearned for the heart to speak and be heard but no one seems to be listening?
This morning my usual early morning waking hour was pushed forward – I feel it arrived prematurely but there is a restlessness inside me. I am seeking stillness yet it isn’t coming; or rather I am not sitting in it. My heart is restless; it seeks a place to speak its truth yet it is pacing around. I wrestled about writing these thoughts until I was still but perhaps I can put them out because I realize I am wrestling with noise pollution. I am wrestling with the traffic of my own thoughts. What I need is those wide-open spaces of sacred space where there are unlimited horizons, where no emotion is off limits and no noise pollution can get in the way of their raw honesty. It is a lovely wide-open field – sacred space that is free from noise pollution. And as the Palmer says it is a place to re-member: reunite that hidden wholeness that is so easily torn apart within.
When I was studying at the Pacific Institute of Culinary Arts I lived in downtown Vancouver, close to Granville Island. It is a beautiful spot but it is located under the Granville Street Bridge where traffic never ceases. I remember heading home on one particular evening where the traffic noise was horrendous and seemed drown out every other sound of beauty. But as I walked along I became aware of the music of thousands of birds that were resting under the bridge. While they rested they sang and that song rose above the noise pollution of the traffic. Sweet indeed.
I have been reading the passage in Matthew 15 on What Pollutes Your Life, and not being able to figure it out. Then yesterday I read a piece in Life of the Beloved by Henri Nouwen. He writes, You will discover a cry welling up from the depths of the human heart that has remained unheard because there was no one to listen. Parker Palmer wrote It often takes years for our hearts to speak, and when they do we often cannot hear them, having been deafened by the system… He was also quoting the Woodcarver poem when he wrote, At every possible level…(he would) forget the externals so that he could remember his inner truth.
Jesus said“These people make a big show of saying the right thing, but their heart isn’t in it. They act like they’re worshipping me, but they don’t mean it. They just use me as a cover for teaching whatever suits their fancy.”
Noise pollution. It’s the rhetoric and the show that doesn’t say much at all – it just becomes noise pollution. All the noise that is the traffic of life in the heart drowns out the true voice of our heart. How many of us have lived silently screaming on the inside but unable to voice any of it? How many of us have yearned for the heart to speak and be heard but no one seems to be listening?
This morning my usual early morning waking hour was pushed forward – I feel it arrived prematurely but there is a restlessness inside me. I am seeking stillness yet it isn’t coming; or rather I am not sitting in it. My heart is restless; it seeks a place to speak its truth yet it is pacing around. I wrestled about writing these thoughts until I was still but perhaps I can put them out because I realize I am wrestling with noise pollution. I am wrestling with the traffic of my own thoughts. What I need is those wide-open spaces of sacred space where there are unlimited horizons, where no emotion is off limits and no noise pollution can get in the way of their raw honesty. It is a lovely wide-open field – sacred space that is free from noise pollution. And as the Palmer says it is a place to re-member: reunite that hidden wholeness that is so easily torn apart within.
Monday, November 15, 2004
Facing Challenges
This weekend was a surprise 70th birthday party for my father and all his children arrived to spend a couple of days with him. It was a two-ferry ride journey for me which allowed plenty of time to people watch and to read. Last night, on the return journey, I enjoyed ingesting more of Parker Palmer’s wisdom from his book The Active Life.
There is a great poem called The Woodcarver from The Way of Chuang Tzu. I won’t quote that here but suffice it to say it is a piece that requires many many readings in order to begin to digest the truth of it. But here are a few quotes that I will share with you, and they deal with conquering fear that holds us back.
The story of the woodcarver is instructive, not because he is fearless (which would make him very unlike most of us), but because he did not let his fears paralyze him. Instead, he walked into and through those fears that he could not get out of, and found freedom to act on the other side.
The process by which the woodcarver found his freedom is…a process of contemplation by which we penetrate the illusion of enslavement and claim our own inner liberty.
Chuang Tzu …opens up the metaphorical meaning of fasting by paralleling it with forgetting. The real fasting is his active refusal to ingest, to internalize, the poisoned bates that can kill the spirit of right action.
At every possible level the woodcarver worked to forget the externals so that he could remember his inner truth.
The word remember literally means to re-member, to reunite the hidden wholeness in us and in our world that is so easily torn apart by powers within and around us. The woodcarver refuses to allow himself and his action to be dismembered by the forces of fragmentation.
I have read it over several times and go back again. There are so truths here that I know are important to me here and now.
There is a great poem called The Woodcarver from The Way of Chuang Tzu. I won’t quote that here but suffice it to say it is a piece that requires many many readings in order to begin to digest the truth of it. But here are a few quotes that I will share with you, and they deal with conquering fear that holds us back.
The story of the woodcarver is instructive, not because he is fearless (which would make him very unlike most of us), but because he did not let his fears paralyze him. Instead, he walked into and through those fears that he could not get out of, and found freedom to act on the other side.
The process by which the woodcarver found his freedom is…a process of contemplation by which we penetrate the illusion of enslavement and claim our own inner liberty.
Chuang Tzu …opens up the metaphorical meaning of fasting by paralleling it with forgetting. The real fasting is his active refusal to ingest, to internalize, the poisoned bates that can kill the spirit of right action.
At every possible level the woodcarver worked to forget the externals so that he could remember his inner truth.
The word remember literally means to re-member, to reunite the hidden wholeness in us and in our world that is so easily torn apart by powers within and around us. The woodcarver refuses to allow himself and his action to be dismembered by the forces of fragmentation.
I have read it over several times and go back again. There are so truths here that I know are important to me here and now.
Friday, November 12, 2004
Life Giving Words
Over the last week I have entered into many conversations and words were an essential part of those communications. I am listening to a cello sonata by Brahms and the deep haunting sounds emitted speak of life. A beautiful saffron gold cord that has been woven into this day has been that of life giving words. Words that made the heart leap, the vision more focused and the companionship of the Divine more tangible.
Many life giving words have been spoken to the women I was surround by in the last week. I cannot communicate to you the words they received as that is their story to tell. Their words spoke life to me.
Much of my life I have struggled with the Mary and Martha issue. Mary was the good one, Martha the inappropriate one. Mary was the one held up for honor while Martha was excused as having no depth or substance because she was not serene and Christ-like. Mary was allowed to sit and Martha was banished to the kitchen so she wouldn’t speak out of turn. I have been Martha all my life; getting the work in the kitchen but not the fun of the party in the other room. I have wrestled with it for years because the kitchen became a place of isolation from the big things that happened with the others sitting down. Over the last while the wrestling has changed to acceptance as I feel the companionship of the Divine in my art studio – the kitchen. This last weekend I had a wonderful time with our kitchen team creating, preparing, and then seeing the passion of my heart come through and be diffused into the room as they shared, laughed, cried and let life be gloriously evident. I never thought about the Martha thing at all until the most glorious life giving words were held out to me. This is your worship, your creations are your worship they said. As I stood, letting these words sink in, their truth caused a paradigm shift within. It was not Martha at work in the kitchen, but rather it was Mary. For me there is a reverence about food - art that reaches deep within me to create, share and let each detail speak to the recipient as I honor God’s gift to me. It is my worship I place at Jesus feet and accept these life-giving words.
Today I walked “my bit of beach” with a precious friend who spoke honest truthful words. She can read my heart so well and she spoke words that honored difficult choices with the generous love her heart is so full of. They were life-giving words.
I stopped at Intime to inquire about a lost article that may have been there since last week. This name is pronounced In-Tee-May, which means Intimate. This is my favorite place to go and as I sat there and enjoyed the sunshine and food made with loving care, the pages of my journal were being filled up. In a time of sharing with the owners they told me of how they desire the sacredness of sitting down to eat to be felt by those who linger in their intimate café. Oh my heart danced at this common thread between us. When I shared with her that this was her worship to the Creator the tears came trickling out and she said, Yes, yes you get it. We together shared life-giving words.
When Jesus saw His disciples grumbling about life He said to them The words I have spoken to you are spirit, they are life.
Holy Spirit I open my heart to words of life. As they are written all over the walls of my heart and the thought passages of my brain may they soak in deep. Let me see them how ever and through who ever You choose to speak them. Continue to teach me how my femininity and life giving words go together. Continue to show me how to worship in ways that are carried to me on the wind of Your Spirit. Let me be a carrier of words that breathe life to others.
Many life giving words have been spoken to the women I was surround by in the last week. I cannot communicate to you the words they received as that is their story to tell. Their words spoke life to me.
Much of my life I have struggled with the Mary and Martha issue. Mary was the good one, Martha the inappropriate one. Mary was the one held up for honor while Martha was excused as having no depth or substance because she was not serene and Christ-like. Mary was allowed to sit and Martha was banished to the kitchen so she wouldn’t speak out of turn. I have been Martha all my life; getting the work in the kitchen but not the fun of the party in the other room. I have wrestled with it for years because the kitchen became a place of isolation from the big things that happened with the others sitting down. Over the last while the wrestling has changed to acceptance as I feel the companionship of the Divine in my art studio – the kitchen. This last weekend I had a wonderful time with our kitchen team creating, preparing, and then seeing the passion of my heart come through and be diffused into the room as they shared, laughed, cried and let life be gloriously evident. I never thought about the Martha thing at all until the most glorious life giving words were held out to me. This is your worship, your creations are your worship they said. As I stood, letting these words sink in, their truth caused a paradigm shift within. It was not Martha at work in the kitchen, but rather it was Mary. For me there is a reverence about food - art that reaches deep within me to create, share and let each detail speak to the recipient as I honor God’s gift to me. It is my worship I place at Jesus feet and accept these life-giving words.
Today I walked “my bit of beach” with a precious friend who spoke honest truthful words. She can read my heart so well and she spoke words that honored difficult choices with the generous love her heart is so full of. They were life-giving words.
I stopped at Intime to inquire about a lost article that may have been there since last week. This name is pronounced In-Tee-May, which means Intimate. This is my favorite place to go and as I sat there and enjoyed the sunshine and food made with loving care, the pages of my journal were being filled up. In a time of sharing with the owners they told me of how they desire the sacredness of sitting down to eat to be felt by those who linger in their intimate café. Oh my heart danced at this common thread between us. When I shared with her that this was her worship to the Creator the tears came trickling out and she said, Yes, yes you get it. We together shared life-giving words.
When Jesus saw His disciples grumbling about life He said to them The words I have spoken to you are spirit, they are life.
Holy Spirit I open my heart to words of life. As they are written all over the walls of my heart and the thought passages of my brain may they soak in deep. Let me see them how ever and through who ever You choose to speak them. Continue to teach me how my femininity and life giving words go together. Continue to show me how to worship in ways that are carried to me on the wind of Your Spirit. Let me be a carrier of words that breathe life to others.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Stepping Into The Healing Path
On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, they called out, saying, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!" When he saw them, he said to them, "Go and show yourselves to the priests." And as they went, they were made clean. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus' feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus asked, "Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner? "Then he said to him, "Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.
Luke 17:11-19
I read through this today in Sacred Space and lingered on it, asking for the Spirit to soothe me with it as it worked through me. What did it mean? What did it say to me?
So many of those I partner with in work, in friendship, in community are about healing, finding the redemptive pieces, being made whole and stepping into that healing life and taking the best pathway.
What is the difference in being made clean and faith that makes you well? Jesus offered healing to them all but only one came back to connect with Him. Only one of them seems to have wanted to find the true freedom that comes with meeting the Healer. What was the soul difference in the healing of the one who Jesus talked with? Was it about getting up, moving on and then finding a power that redeemed him in all layers of his life? Perhaps it is about embracing, really taking ownership for the journey, and by that kind of faith we then can dance instead of limping. I think that this is one who became a storyteller. This is the one who stepped into the healing river of life and found true freedom, telling his story, not as a victim, but as one who met Jesus and could believe there was a redemptive thread to life. Hmmm, one more person that became a storyteller. One more person that could step out of the prison of where they had been and dance in freedom of who they were.
The Lord says, I will guide you along the best pathway for you life. I will advise you and watch over you. Psalm 32:8
God made my life complete when I placed all the pieces before him. When I got my act together, he gave me a fresh start.
God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes.
Psalm 18: 20, 24
In my own journey Jesus has said Get up and go on your way, your faith has made you well. As I go along seeking the best pathway He continues to peel back the layers of stuff so that I am not just clean, but that I am well – dancing on the best pathway.
Luke 17:11-19
I read through this today in Sacred Space and lingered on it, asking for the Spirit to soothe me with it as it worked through me. What did it mean? What did it say to me?
So many of those I partner with in work, in friendship, in community are about healing, finding the redemptive pieces, being made whole and stepping into that healing life and taking the best pathway.
What is the difference in being made clean and faith that makes you well? Jesus offered healing to them all but only one came back to connect with Him. Only one of them seems to have wanted to find the true freedom that comes with meeting the Healer. What was the soul difference in the healing of the one who Jesus talked with? Was it about getting up, moving on and then finding a power that redeemed him in all layers of his life? Perhaps it is about embracing, really taking ownership for the journey, and by that kind of faith we then can dance instead of limping. I think that this is one who became a storyteller. This is the one who stepped into the healing river of life and found true freedom, telling his story, not as a victim, but as one who met Jesus and could believe there was a redemptive thread to life. Hmmm, one more person that became a storyteller. One more person that could step out of the prison of where they had been and dance in freedom of who they were.
The Lord says, I will guide you along the best pathway for you life. I will advise you and watch over you. Psalm 32:8
God made my life complete when I placed all the pieces before him. When I got my act together, he gave me a fresh start.
God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes.
Psalm 18: 20, 24
In my own journey Jesus has said Get up and go on your way, your faith has made you well. As I go along seeking the best pathway He continues to peel back the layers of stuff so that I am not just clean, but that I am well – dancing on the best pathway.
Monday, November 08, 2004
Distilling
All sorts of thoughts and ideas were crowding through the brain pathways in the rush to become spoken words and shared thoughts. I was eager to tell, to speak, to vocalize the thoughts and find connecting points with this other person.
She smiled as I spoke, and said, Let it soothe you.
The words reached into my consciousness but I rambled on with the flow of thoughts, rather like a torrential stream after a deluge of rain.
She took my hands in hers and said, Let it soothe you.
Still I rambled on and then she took my face in her strong hands, moved closer into my space, looked deeply into my eyes and strongly, passionately said, Let it soothe you.
I opened my mouth to speak and she raised her eyebrows, still held my face in her hands and repeated, Let it soothe you.
Stopping mid-stride in a race causes one to loose balance, to tilt forward and then backward. I stopped, tilted and absorbed the words. I have been pondering “let it soothe you” for days, standing still to understand what this means.
It’s all about distillation. Irish Whiskey (as I’m Irish I am partial to this particular beverage on occasion) is distilled three times and during this process it breaths attaining the desired aroma, flavouring and colour. If some were to be skimmed off too early the richness would be sacrificed and lost.
Too soon – too soon the words are spoken. Before they have had time to take the desired process from my head to my heard where not only will they make deeper connections within but they will have time breath, to take on the aroma, flavour and colour that is required. As I own them, am patient with them, they will soothe my anxious heart; they will draw me to the place of being still and knowing God. In the distilling the intellect and the heart are fully connected and open to the learning of the truth the ideas hold.
Too often our own neediness causes us to rush forward. My neediness has me quickly voice my thoughts because for so long my voice was invalidated. My voice is not to be used simply to let rambling thoughts enter into the atmosphere but in my anxiety they have. They may be truths being discovered but for them to be owned they must stay in the complete distilling process and thereby soothe me. Truth may disturb but it is also to soothe. Water may soothe the thirst by entering the mouth and then moving deeper into the body. Truth will calm, it will ease the pain, and it will settle within – it will distill in the depths of the soul its own Light.
I sit quietly tonight waiting to understand and to let myself be soothed with the stillness.
She smiled as I spoke, and said, Let it soothe you.
The words reached into my consciousness but I rambled on with the flow of thoughts, rather like a torrential stream after a deluge of rain.
She took my hands in hers and said, Let it soothe you.
Still I rambled on and then she took my face in her strong hands, moved closer into my space, looked deeply into my eyes and strongly, passionately said, Let it soothe you.
I opened my mouth to speak and she raised her eyebrows, still held my face in her hands and repeated, Let it soothe you.
Stopping mid-stride in a race causes one to loose balance, to tilt forward and then backward. I stopped, tilted and absorbed the words. I have been pondering “let it soothe you” for days, standing still to understand what this means.
It’s all about distillation. Irish Whiskey (as I’m Irish I am partial to this particular beverage on occasion) is distilled three times and during this process it breaths attaining the desired aroma, flavouring and colour. If some were to be skimmed off too early the richness would be sacrificed and lost.
Too soon – too soon the words are spoken. Before they have had time to take the desired process from my head to my heard where not only will they make deeper connections within but they will have time breath, to take on the aroma, flavour and colour that is required. As I own them, am patient with them, they will soothe my anxious heart; they will draw me to the place of being still and knowing God. In the distilling the intellect and the heart are fully connected and open to the learning of the truth the ideas hold.
Too often our own neediness causes us to rush forward. My neediness has me quickly voice my thoughts because for so long my voice was invalidated. My voice is not to be used simply to let rambling thoughts enter into the atmosphere but in my anxiety they have. They may be truths being discovered but for them to be owned they must stay in the complete distilling process and thereby soothe me. Truth may disturb but it is also to soothe. Water may soothe the thirst by entering the mouth and then moving deeper into the body. Truth will calm, it will ease the pain, and it will settle within – it will distill in the depths of the soul its own Light.
I sit quietly tonight waiting to understand and to let myself be soothed with the stillness.
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Tears and Sacred Space
Sacred space and tears:
They do not have to be justified
They do not need to be explained
There is no need to hold them back
They have their own kind of perfume to the soul
They come from our soul, our wounds and yet they are part of our worship as they fall over Jesus feet
Jesus doesn’t judge them
Jesus never counts the number of times they have been shed over the same issue
Tears come out of my brokenness, my open heart in the sacred space where I find His presence, His light, His breath, His grace, His love
They may be unexplained, unknown, but there is no fear in them as I release them in sacred space
Tears are a part of the freedom of a naked heart
Are tears where the intellect and the heart can speak together to the Divine?
I don’t understand why I feel such a sense of freedom in the experiencing of this truth – that sacred space is a safe place for tears. I just know this understanding breaths freedom for me.
The Valley of Baca was a place of weeping, a place of copious tears. The people who walked through it had set their heart on pilgrimage. A pilgrimage is where one travels to a sacred place. Does this earthly pilgrimage to a sacred place also hold the truth that the journey towards it is indeed sacred space? “Blessed are those …who have set their hearts on pilgrimage”. The Valley of Tears is heart-mapping territory that holds discovery, surprises, and rugged terrain. It also is God traveled – we are not alone. This is why tears as so safe in sacred space – we are not alone when they fall, and every one is noticed and holds significance. They are created by, captured and stored by my Divine Guide – my Maestro of Life. Perhaps as He retrieves them in sacred space He will allow them to be used as He continues to teach me how to use their colours on the soul painting of my life – water colour paintings.
And how blessed all those in whom you live,
whose lives become roads you travel;
They wind through lonesome valleys, come upon brooks,
Discover cool springs and pools brimming with rain!
God-traveled, these roads curve up the mountain, and
At the last turn – Zion! God in full view!
Psalm 84:5-7 The Message
They do not have to be justified
They do not need to be explained
There is no need to hold them back
They have their own kind of perfume to the soul
They come from our soul, our wounds and yet they are part of our worship as they fall over Jesus feet
Jesus doesn’t judge them
Jesus never counts the number of times they have been shed over the same issue
Tears come out of my brokenness, my open heart in the sacred space where I find His presence, His light, His breath, His grace, His love
They may be unexplained, unknown, but there is no fear in them as I release them in sacred space
Tears are a part of the freedom of a naked heart
Are tears where the intellect and the heart can speak together to the Divine?
I don’t understand why I feel such a sense of freedom in the experiencing of this truth – that sacred space is a safe place for tears. I just know this understanding breaths freedom for me.
The Valley of Baca was a place of weeping, a place of copious tears. The people who walked through it had set their heart on pilgrimage. A pilgrimage is where one travels to a sacred place. Does this earthly pilgrimage to a sacred place also hold the truth that the journey towards it is indeed sacred space? “Blessed are those …who have set their hearts on pilgrimage”. The Valley of Tears is heart-mapping territory that holds discovery, surprises, and rugged terrain. It also is God traveled – we are not alone. This is why tears as so safe in sacred space – we are not alone when they fall, and every one is noticed and holds significance. They are created by, captured and stored by my Divine Guide – my Maestro of Life. Perhaps as He retrieves them in sacred space He will allow them to be used as He continues to teach me how to use their colours on the soul painting of my life – water colour paintings.
And how blessed all those in whom you live,
whose lives become roads you travel;
They wind through lonesome valleys, come upon brooks,
Discover cool springs and pools brimming with rain!
God-traveled, these roads curve up the mountain, and
At the last turn – Zion! God in full view!
Psalm 84:5-7 The Message
Monday, November 01, 2004
Lies to the Soul
People who love listening to lies – that is what I was reading this morning in Ezekiel 13. This is a strong, blasting message about, and to, people who love to listen to lies. It hit me right between the eyes – last week I listened to the lies and felt anger, bitterness, pity, hopelessness. I wallowed in them.
They say ‘God says…when God hasn’t so much as breathed in their direction’. I say everything is fine when inside the hurt burns and I believe the lies from the Liar to my soul. I slap on white wash and make it look like a good coating when it is only covering lies that become destroying mould to the soul.
This morning as I sit quietly by the fire, listening to the rain and seeking sacred space, I seek truth about those destroying feelings of anger, bitterness, pity and hopelessness. I see them for what they are – feelings connected to the lies that I listened to over the last few days. Vicious lies to my soul that I listened to and hugged close - yet again. They were not God breathed at all. He says I’ll let the hurricane of my wrath loose…You’ll realize I am God.
I want the gentle rain of love, not a hurricane of wrath. I want the truth of peace, not the lies of restlessness and bitterness. I ask Jesus to romance my soul into His love more deeply. Jesus tells me I’ve moved heaven and earth, shaken its foundation at Calvary to make you Mine. I’ve called you by name to make you Mine. I’ve written your name on the palm of my hands to show you you are Mine. Today I need to remind you that my wrath is on the teller of the lies that make you doubt these truths. You are Mine and nothing, nor anyone, “absolutely nothing can get between us”.
The Liar tries to re-open old wounds. The truth from the Lover of my soul is the healing ointment to them. I thank God for the friends, who love me, that spoke truth into the lies and held up the mirror of His heart for me to see the truth. I step into the day with expectation of romance from my Beloved who says you are Mine”.
They say ‘God says…when God hasn’t so much as breathed in their direction’. I say everything is fine when inside the hurt burns and I believe the lies from the Liar to my soul. I slap on white wash and make it look like a good coating when it is only covering lies that become destroying mould to the soul.
This morning as I sit quietly by the fire, listening to the rain and seeking sacred space, I seek truth about those destroying feelings of anger, bitterness, pity and hopelessness. I see them for what they are – feelings connected to the lies that I listened to over the last few days. Vicious lies to my soul that I listened to and hugged close - yet again. They were not God breathed at all. He says I’ll let the hurricane of my wrath loose…You’ll realize I am God.
I want the gentle rain of love, not a hurricane of wrath. I want the truth of peace, not the lies of restlessness and bitterness. I ask Jesus to romance my soul into His love more deeply. Jesus tells me I’ve moved heaven and earth, shaken its foundation at Calvary to make you Mine. I’ve called you by name to make you Mine. I’ve written your name on the palm of my hands to show you you are Mine. Today I need to remind you that my wrath is on the teller of the lies that make you doubt these truths. You are Mine and nothing, nor anyone, “absolutely nothing can get between us”.
The Liar tries to re-open old wounds. The truth from the Lover of my soul is the healing ointment to them. I thank God for the friends, who love me, that spoke truth into the lies and held up the mirror of His heart for me to see the truth. I step into the day with expectation of romance from my Beloved who says you are Mine”.
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