My week has been full of opposites, reminding me how I vacillate and that we all are works in progress.

Sunday, I spent an enriching afternoon in the company of other Quakers as we studied and grappled with death and dying. Meeting monthly, we're slowly reading a book on the subject by a Buddhist that requires self exploration. We shared our responses to what we envision as the worst death possible, then the best. The answers were wide-ranging and astounding. One Friend remarked that I am probably the minority in understanding and embracing that my death will be only me and God. And I am completely happy with that. I should confess that I have had a few mentors along the way who've shown me it's nothing to fear.

Monday gloriously opened casting the beautiful and full belly of a pregnant friend in plaster. She was radiant and I loved gently smothering her 35-week wide stomach with Vaseline, then wetting, wringing and applying the gauze strips. I smoothed each layer, working from chest to lower abdomen, side to side, capturing a wondrous shape that immediately appeared sculptural. One daughter cut strips and the younger,  wandered away. Perhaps it was too much, but for me, one who has given birth, it was a reminder of the beauty in the entire life-giving process. It was a privilege to trap this moment, this shape, reconnecting to my experience and looking ahead to those of this mother-to-be.

Tuesday, I facilitated my weekly spiritual-nurture group on one of my favorite subjects: the living water. We drank Italian sparkling water, listened to a bubbling fountain, were led through a guided meditation as we lay on the floor pretending to float, completely surrendering ourselves and, ended by washing each others' feet. It was lively, fun, moving and life affirming. Why can't we always treat each other this way? I thought. It was humbling to sooth another's feet, but even more so to be on the receiving end.

Wednesday, I was on the phone with an old family friend, listening to her describe her husband dying of Alzheimer's. I had made the call, prompted by my heart in honoring the gift of their friendship. Life was never dull when they visited or we ventured to Chicago: the New Year's their son teasingly locked us out on a second-floor porch in record-breaking low temperatures, sitting in their built-in naughty chair, hearing the story of how ancestors had a copy of the Mona Lisa crated away in a musty attic or the countless times Chris, the one dying, made us laugh ... hysterically. He has the best sense of humor of anyone I've ever known. Last weekend, when his son visited, he saluted his father and asked: "Permission to board?" It was a joke between them, but also a sign of respect as the father had been a Navyman. After two weeks of not uttering a word, Chris replied: "Permission denied" and the room cracked up. His wife confessed how difficult it is to see her spouse withering in the 112-pound frame until he smiles and transforms. She even crawled into bed and held him one night until he slept. He finds comfort when they recite the Lord's prayer together and she continually prays on the trip to visit for strength and receives it every time.

Thursday, I let one daughter play hooky. She's growing up so fast and we rarely get one-on-one time. We shopped and dined at Ikea, then slid into the city, Findlay Market to be precise, for an Indian cooking lesson, drifting to the Korean store after for spices, bumping into an old friend and ending with me quaffing a Bavarian beer in the antique bar where the friend works. It was one of those days you'll always remember as the epitome of the perfect day. Earlier my 14-year-old asked "When have you been the happiest?" Upon my hesitation, she answered herself: "You're supposed to say right now because you're with me." And she was right.

Intermingled with these are prayers for my 95-year-old aunt who, on a jaunt to Florida, ended up in the hospital for surgery, then Hospice and has made a miraculous recovery and a dedicated Quaker friend struggling with a stern diagnosis and complications.

Today, I walked to yoga, but left early and in tears because my shoulder could not handle the planks. Usually it's not an issue, but today, the pain was excruciating. So much so that I almost cancelled a meeting with my spiritual friend. Glad I didn't because it was what I needed most. She let me whine a bit, then I discussed each of the above and we got around to the fact we live many deaths and re-births. I think she was also saying that I am currently in one of those and I agree. Her advice was spot on: "Think of the circus and the person on the trapeze. When they go to reach for the next bar, they have to let go of the other and there is a moment when they are grasping nothing. I think that's where you are."

The space between life and death, death and life. The place we're supposed to trust.

• What glimpses of life have I been given recently?
• What of death?
• How can I string those together?
• What message is there?
• How have I experienced the space between?


looking back,
grasping


and also
forging ahead


wagering
weighing


trying to
hold both bars
for fear of falling


thinking it is
our job


when we must
just let go


and surrender

Listen to this post: http://www.turtleboxstories.com/audio/whengodswoops.mp3

Since I left full-time work to raise kids, flirt with freelance, nurture training and volunteering, I have had the flexibility to deal with chronic issues. It's also what has allowed me time for introspection and a spiritual journey. What, I ask out loud, happens if I don't have the energy and stamina to make this next, big step of taking my nurture work out of a faith-community context and into the real world? 

In a surreal labyrinth walk when I wrestled with this question, Jesus met me in the center with the promise that I would not be asked to give more than I would be assisted with. As my shamanic counselor says: "You've got the Big Guy in your corner." He, the counselor, also understood my fear: "Well, you have struggled with that issue before."

Nevertheless, I am forging ahead: beginning to negotiate for a space and applying for a grant ... though I know full well I will secure that space with or without the grant. My Quaker clearness committee for this work and the grant  suggested a partner may help. I agree, but am not sure who or where that support lies. I am being called, I think, to walk forward even in the doubt and trust that I will be given what I need when I need it.

When I inspect my history, I always have:
– Like the time I devastatingly discovered my nurture training in Philadelphia was happening NOW, not next week when my flight was booked, my childcare was lined up and my mother would be back in town. I fell apart but, with my husband's strong support, I was on my way in 12 hours. After three delays, the elder who picked me up suggested that  I unpack and re-ground before joining the group. In doing so,  I noticed I had, fortunately, forgotten only one item: dental floss. As I opened the empty dresser drawer to put my clothes away, something tucked away in the corner caught my eye; an unopened package of floss. This discovery was accompanied by the message of "Trust and I will give you what you need." The bigger gift I received that very day was to know how much I had been missed by arriving late. Until then, I had not felt a very integral part of this community. Apparently, I was traveling on God's time.

– Or, when I was sitting in the bath tub one morning contemplating just slipping away because the pain and violent vertigo were too much. I glanced at the clock and realized Lily would be home from kindergarten in an hour and I could not let her find me. I dressed, then threw a tantrum, pounding my fists on the floor and screaming at God to help me. A small voice said: "Go to what you know." "What the hell is that right now?" I snarled back, then sat down at my nearby computer and began researching drug reactions. It was all I could do. I soon learned that I was having withdrawal from a nasty drug used to treat fibromyalgia my now ex-doc had recommended stopping altogether. But, you know, that little piece of information made all of the difference; it didn't ease the chore of going back on and weaning off, but it showed me just how much God cared and completely altered my attitude.

– On a solo trip to Italy, arriving after 17 hours of planes, shuttles, trains and a bus with no English speakers, I pointed to my map and was anxiously shoved off, completely lost, into an abandoned-looking district. I eventually found that street names are embedded on the sides of buildings and, in tears, not knowing how much farther my journey, noticed a sign in English in the back of a small Italian car window that read: "I am with you" and I knew I was not alone ... not ever.

– Also at midnight in Florence, with no buses in sight,  I began walking the three miles to the convent, praying to arrive safely. I figured out a general path back, ducked into a small hotel to check my map and a kind employee, who spoke English, pointed me in the safest direction. "You have a long way to go," he said. I responded: "But you don't know how far I've come." I felt God's presence the entire way back, returning late and exhausted, but in one piece. When I awoke the next morning, I was exhilarated that we had made that journey together.

When I think about these instances, I am stunned by how much God does, indeed, show up of me, whenever I ask and even when I don't. I am certain there are so many other times, probably daily, that I don't even bother to notice. Wow.

• What is God currently asking of me?
• How have I responded?
• When has God given me what I needed when I needed it?

This morning, after a swim and before I sat down to do some work, I worried myself into some centering prayer. I have been trying to make it a somewhat regular (almost daily) practice because it sets a much simpler and happier course for my day if I do.

If you're not familiar with it, it's pretty easy. Basically, you allot 15-30 minutes to sit in quiet with God. There is a recommended way of sitting (in a comfortable chair, but not so much so that you'll fall asleep, back straight, feet planted on floor, hands on your knees palms up – to receive – and eyes closed) and you may want to do a few stretches to prepare. Often a focus word, mantra, image or color is way in and a manner of reminding yourself to come back to the center when your thoughts stray ... and, rest assured, they will. Keep that simple. Breath is also an easy and natural way to focus. Just surrender to God. It's pretty powerful and healing stuff even if it feels as if nothing happens.

My mind gears were churning away playing ping pong with an unspoken fear. Eventually, I could name the fear and relinquish it. It's the fear of how I can do what God is currently asking of me (open a nurture studio) without the normal benchmarks such as a paycheck and boss. I understand that those aren't meant for me right now, but I want to be tethered in some way.

And I sank into the nothingness. I emerged with a start, a few minutes ahead of the timer, but I felt done. Done enough to read the daily devotion from Father Thomas Keating's "The Daily Reader for Contemplative Living." And there were my benchmarks for the subject was Fruits of the Spirit:
• Charity (love),
• Joy
• Peace
• Meekness
• Gentleness
• Long-suffering
• Goodness
• Patience
• Self Control
[Galatians 5:23]

When I had first done centering prayer with the nuns while on retreat several weeks ago, they used this book and it spoke so deeply to me then. It is so clear where I need to grow based just on that list and even the order in which the fruits were listed.

And today being Valentine's Day, I understand why love is at the top.

• How do I make time to regularly connect with the Divine?
• What happens when I do?
• What do I notice when I don't?
• How playful am I in experimenting with ways to connect?
• What's currently working for or speaking to me?

all revved up and
nowhere to go


except into myself
stirring up trouble
and worry


not the best way
to begin the day


so, I take a breath,
regroup and take
20


20 minutes to
sit in centering prayer


a mere smidgen of my day
to just be with God


can't I manage to find that somewhere?


just when it seems like a chore
or one more thing to fit in,
I am reminded that it
benefits me most of all

In 12 years of being Quaker and participating in as many clearness committees, I experienced the truest form of this tool yesterday. Sometimes they have offered advice,  caring hearts and listening ears. Rarely have they been what yesterday's was: the chance for the person seeking clearness to state the concern and provide background out of silent worship, lapse back in, have the committee ask only authentic questions without imposing themselves, pause silently again, then reflect back what they have heard the focus person say.

I want to rail ... rail that someone I consider a rock is suffering. I just don't understand this kind of pain and why it's inflicted so randomly. The phrase shit happens comes to mind, but that does not begin to cover the scope of a devastating cancer diagnosis, stents that break loose creating interior havoc, chemo that wipeseverything out and a rushed surgery when a body is already under siege.

It's especially incomprehensible because it's Fred: Fred the treasurer; Fred the cautious and steady one; Fred the accountable one; Fred whom you can count on; Fred who rebuilt houses after Katrina; Fred who has always accepted my wild child Lily for who she is; Fred who makes sure the meeting [church] grounds and building are in good repair, safe and a respite from the world; organized, controlled Fred, who seems worlds away from my messiness, yet always manages to support my half-baked endeavors. We are like night and day. He's the on-the-ball numbers guy and I am the off-the-wall artsy-fartsy one, always struggling to discern my path through the haze of chronic pain. Now Fred has far more than a haze and yet, I think he saw me for who I am ... through all of the clutter.

He and Mary Ellen, his wife and our longtime clerk, have just always been there: when I applied for a scholarship to attend a far-away, two-year spiritual nurture program with young children; when we were purchasing new windows for the meetinghouse and I wondered if we could also fund ministry; when we wrestled with a formal pastor search after God had given us a gift; when I felt called to attend a Quaker writing conference and he deemed it an emergency, loosening emergency funds ...

I don't remember a time when they weren't there. Except for now, when they are at the hospital and noticeably absent from worship.

Tuesday, when then nurture group I lead met to explore a "journey to the center" with candles leading the way to a sacred circle, we placed both of them there in prayer the entire hour-and-a-half. We hoped to wrap them in God's embrace, edging the grip of disease.

I asked our minister when she visited Fred to tell him Lily was praying for him and she reported that he squeezed her hand at that message. Lily and Fred have developed an interesting relationship. As she has outwardly manifested various growth phases in her manner of dress (loud, disheveled and mismatched), Fred has always positively commented on her choices, encouraging her creativity and self expression. In his loving teasing of my wild child and constant support of my wild leadings, his BIG heart shows on his sleeve.

My prayer is that God is holding his heart and hand right now.

• Who's the Fred in your life?
• When have you found a cheerleader who seems so polarly opposite to you?

• How/where do you find God in suffering?
• What prayer does that spark?



slowly the intimidation of
the quiet giant melted


he tended to physical and
financial matters of the meeting


I, to the spiritual and nuturance


he seemed controlled and wise,
me, all over the map, but learning by experience


and then we met in a kinda funny place:
somewhere between recognizing a creative kid for who she is
and a mother trying to regain her confidence and calling


he's been the rock, the foundation, that has freed me to
creativity and ministry

Yesterday was sandwiched between a traditional Bible study and a new women's group on astrology and archetypes. Could I have chosen anything more different? One is an ongoing study of Luke that my mother initiated in December with, mostly, retired women. I felt called to join because when else might I have the chance to do a Bible study with her? The other is lead by my wonderful and wise spiritual friend and I would sign up for anything she has to offer.


Though they seem like polar opposites, upon deeper inspection, I find they are not. Both are ways of figuring out who we are and what our purpose is. One centers on the word of God and the other, on what lessons the heavens, which God beautifully created, have for us.


Just a few months ago, I would not have envisioned myself either place.


I have struggled with the Bible, not being able to separate the rote and drilled-in meanings of Sunday School with what Scripture actually has to say directly and personally to me. I have experienced breakthroughs in practicing lectio divina (a slow and sacred reading of a brief passage) and when Conservative Friends practice an open-your-Bible-and-be-lead-somewhere study. The first two lessons of the current study actually turned me off with the amount of pure work in filling in the blanks and charts. I wondered what I was actually learning. But you know, it has stuck with me. What has been especially enriching is the perspective of each of the women. It's an eclectic, though not more diverse than Catholic and protestant, group of great faith and wisdom. When I have fallen into my old pattern of literal interpretation, they have reminded me of the beautiful metaphor and poetry of Scripture. And it has spoken deeply to me, reminding me I am called ... as we each are. It has helped me determine where, exactly, that is.


Astrology may as well be Greek to me. But, because it is so symbolic, I am drawn to this new language. Even just learning some very basics last evening and looking only at the patterns in our birth charts, I was amazed at how much I have experienced is affirmed and confirmed. For example, the arrangement of the planets at my birth creates a "splash" pattern, somewhat equally divided. My able instructor suggested it meant I was a "universal" person, a jack of all trades. She also included a description of my zodiac sign, Capricorn. The pattern and sign indicate I have may talents with a penchant for perseverance and slowly ascending to the top, a lonely trek. What it all helped me see in a very detached and clear manner is that I am often hung up on which direction to take because I am able to do differing tasks. Also, that even though I feel called to ministry, I can create a livelihood from it. That's pretty big stuff. We also learned about the meridian and hemisphere divisions. I tend toward the night, being more interior, slower to bloom and controlled by circumstance. However, I also have "daytime" planets, which means I can be extraverted, in charge of my own destiny to some extent and function in the social world. WOW.


I have been playing with all of these lessons, as well as those from last week's retreat, in figuring out my next move. I looked at potential studio/teaching space today and wonder where my ministry meets earning a living. Before today, I thought those were concepts that could not meet; even not sure they should. Today, I believe I can weave them together in creating a new life and calling, which blesses me and others.


WOW. I would not have gotten to this place without Scripture, astrology, last week's contemplative time, a lot of centering prayer, this week's activity, lots of friends and grace.


• When have diverse modes worked together to teach me?
• How do I open myself to new ideas and methods?
• What ministry may be swimming in my heart?
• How do I feed it?
• Where is my balance between ministry/retreat and vocation/work/activity?


learning about Jesus
from Luke at a long
distance from Sunday school
and in the company of
eager and wise listeners


shows me what is waiting
for me, if only I pay
attention and open
to what lies in my heart


oddly enough,
grounding that experience
is peering into the stars
to see my path, where
I've been and what choices
I now can, wisely, make


a heavenly marriage

The Challenge of Integrity, by Paul Bock

Listen to this post: http://www.turtleboxstories.com/audio/deathofthefalse.mp3

In a dream, I am sitting at the end of several rows of stackable chairs whispering something in God’s ear, then I slump back , clearly dead. I don’t know my exact words, but I release something and I feel the ache leave my heart.

As I was grabbing a few things to pack for this retreat, I uncovered the Journal of [Quaker] John Woolman and decided to leave it behind as I had enough books to tote. My mother, not a Quaker, had recently been cleaning, found the copy and passed it on to me. Eventually, I thought, I’ll read it, but not on this retreat. Besides, I was heading to a convent, nowhere Quaker.

In a welcoming e-mail, Susan, the retreat director, said I’d be staying in a cabin called “Simplicity.” Perfect, I thought; sounds pretty Quaker. While scouting out my one of the seven cabins, I came across, “Hope,” “Wonder,” and “Namaste´,” before uncovering mine. Why was I assigned Simplicity? I asked myself. Surely any of the others seemed to hold more significance for me: hope in figuring out my next steps in life, wonder at spending quiet time in nature and with God, Namaste´ because I practice yoga regularly and adore that word. Of course, I always want to simplify, but that wasn’t my intention for this retreat. That’s such a mundane, everyday kind of thing. But, come to think of it, I’m not really clear what my goal is, except to get away alone and write.


As I was settling in, Susan came by and welcomed me and, as she was providing a rich and endearing history of this commune of hermitages, permanent dweller Elaine arrived, asking Susan to move her truck. We were introduced and I was drawn to look Elaine square in the eyes and hold that gaze while saying: “I was led here.” Woops, that surprised me. She had a knowing face. Our gaze broke and she was off. So was Susan and I explored outside on my own.


After a rigorous afternoon crossing creeks, pausing at the labyrinth and peeking at the other, unoccupied cabins, I headed in to grab some tea and reflection time prior to the 5:30 daily prayer in the chapel only a few steps away. This is perfect, I told myself.


I picked up a journal with entries from others who have coveted their time at this cabin and was immediately mesmerized. One kept quoting Prevallet, who had some petty insightful things to say about simplicity. I soon discovered this author penned a Quaker Pendle Hill Phamplet entitled “Reflections on Simplicity.” This writer was a nun with a wonderful theological education (Ph.D) and a year spent studying Zen Buddhism in China. She also happened to teach spirituality and Scripture during a two-year tenure at Pendle Hill, a Quaker contemplative community near Philadelphia.


I mentioned to Susan after silent prayer that I had noticed the simplicity pamphlet. “Oh, yes,” she responded. “Elaine wrote that.” The Elaine with whom I’d shared a deep moment upon arriving. The synchronicity was a little too uncomfortable. In that same conversion, I also learned that a member of my Quaker meeting, Pauletta, had just spent time here. Spooky as I had brought her book of poetry, the gift of a small-press publisher/friends who had given it to me for my birthday though we’ve never really verbalized our Pauletta connection. I’ve known these friends well before I was ever Quaker.
After prayers and before and during dinner, I dove into the book on simplicity. Eillen’s words, like her eyes, immediately reached in and grabbed me with “I listen for the decision rather than make the decision” in a discourse on basing them from your center, the place connected to God. And then she began to quote from John Woolman’s Journal. You know, the one I didn’t bring. And then I read more things that are exactly what I need to hear to discern my next steps and it really is all about simplicity.


So I am here, where I am supposed to be, savoring every moment. This is retreat.


• How have I experienced synchronicity?
• How long did it take me to connect that it was?
• How am I more open as a result?
• What’s the synchronicity of simplicity in my life?
• What is my usual mode for decision making?

Simplicity: Traveling Light, Lynn Holt

Tanks, Tractors & Tremblers before God: Holy Visions of Peace as Lived Out by Friends, James Tower

Not only am I beginning to see my life as a metaphor, I am experiencing it that way and I wonder if this is real detachment.

This perspective of symbolism has been eeking its way in for awhile, providing crucial insight and helping me be more the observer in situations where I am too enmeshed. Now it's occurring in real time as events unfold and not merely as I look back. Take my 53rd birthday party, for example. Out of the blue, I decided I wanted (needed) a party and asked my husband and best friend. They were more than willing. And when my spouse asked whom I wanted to invite, I e-mailed him a most impromptu list. In hindsight, I recognize what a gift this was: inviting people I really wanted (and who were available and nearby as this was last-minute) and none out of obligation or responsibility.

I basked in the wonderfulness of this particular group during the party as they intermingled, some never having met before. I even remarked that it seemed like a dream because, how, otherwise, would this specific collection have come together. I was detached and able to see how each person there has brought her/her gifts to my life and the difference in me that has made. It touched deep gratitude in me as I have been nurtured in some way by each of them. Perhaps that was the nudge to request such a party.

Removing oneself from a situation and viewing it metaphorically improves context and clarity. As a trained journalist, this has been a tool I have often applied to others and situations outside my own. As a marketer, it is typically easy for me to visualize and map a path for another company. In journaling, I have learned to do it looking back on my life. And, joyfully, in the present, I am able, perhaps through grace, to use this perspective now ... sometimes.

A new group I am attending is about accompanying the dying and we are collectively discovering that learning this type of companionship is also learning how to live. I think it, too, weaves in the detachment/objectivity factor and looking for the patterns in our lives. If we can delve into the shadow [and what greater shadow is there than death?], then we can explore all parts of ourselves ... even the ones we know least and fear most.

The ah-ha moments seem to happen more frequently and on deeper levels in this observer mode.

Yesterday, for example, was my regular shamanic-counseling session. I floated in on the wave of a wonderful birthday and spilled that in reading a book on button pushers, my biggest foe is not human, but the psychological and physical trap of fibromyalgia. A passage in the book suggests that we often let our button pushers control us and BINGO, that's when the hairs stood up on my neck and I understood my feistiest controller.

So, of course, being with such a wise and loving shaman, we went deeper and I received a very important revelation, one I realize will take some time to sink in, process and open to. Afterward, when it was time for bodywork and before my therapist (lucky me that my massage therapist and shaman are one in the same!) returned, I felt a physical presence lay hands on me and then a warm, gel-like layer permeate my entire backside, causing tingling and comfort from my toes to the base of my spine, even in the palms of my hands. This was no metaphor. It was real and it was healing.

Currently, I am sit resting in this, but I sense some form of detachment led me here. I am grateful.

• When have I experienced detachment?

• Has it been a process or rare flashes?

• What role do I believe grace plays in that?

• What am I currently processing or sitting with?

• How can I nurture my own openness to detachment?

so easy to get stuck

stuck in what is right ahead

like I live with blinders on

repeating the same thing

over and over and wondering

why it's happening again

then something lifts

me above and I see

everything differently

and either the path

becomes clear or

I see a destructive pattern

that I can now mend or

an old habit I can abandon

and I am eternally

grateful

We miss you already, Colin!

In a recent Bible study, I could not keep myself from asking, "What, exactly, is the Holy Spirit?" when the group sped through (well, at least I thought so) a discussion of the Trinity. You could have heard a pin drop. I had anticipated the reaction, but could not help myself. I've never really been able to understand it. I know the intellectual definition, but I want to really know this.

I refrained from also asking where the Mother was in the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Somehow, I am certain this group of experienced women has questioned that themselves.

The first response was "part of the Trinity." Which part, I wanted to know. God's Spirit, I think someone said. I explained that question had been raised several times in Quaker groups I've attended and also that Quakers believe there is that of God in everyone. That resonated with this Bible-study group. We sort of settled on the fact there are many aspects of God and this may have been a way of addressing that.

Shortly after, I began reading about the Christ. That's another concept that has been rotely drilled into me. One I wish to make my own. Is Jesus the only Christ? I have wondered. What does Christ even mean?

An enlightening comparison of Exoteric (outer expression) and Esoteric (inner teaching) Christianity that my friend and spiritual mentor gave my, compiled by the Rev. Jan Skogstrom with the Rev. Susan Hamilton, suggests those with an outer bent view Christ as one entity and those more internally focused as a human teacher and the living flame of love.

I think I have always seen the duality and, perhaps, not had to define these aspects. At a rather young age, in Sunday School, we were told to ask Jesus to come into our hearts. I did and I believe the Christ was already there. I am now certain it was the Christ Spirit that whispered in my ear that my heart was not black with sin, another early Sunday School teaching.

I love reading that in Jesus' "lost" years, other accounts and traditions document him traveling to Tibet, India and even China mastering other faiths. A several-year study of the Hindu Bhagavad Gita  in a meditation group probably taught me more about my Christian beliefs than the Bible. So many teachings are universal. To me, they, too, felt infused with the Christ even though some elements were culturally and historically foreign.

In Jesus, I am finding, the mind and the heart fused and the heart became the driver. That's what I want and what I recognized during a flash while meditatively swimming today: we all have the potential to carry the Christ because that spirit is universally available. It is a living, growing presence that did not die on the cross, but, rather, was released.

Released for each of us to embody. Wow, what if we did?

• What is my spin on the Trinity?

• How has that changed, been shaped over the years?

• What do I believe about the Christ?

• What personal connection do I have to Jesus?

• Does the outer expression or inner teaching call to me?

threes are more interesting

to an artist

three flowers in an

arrangement make a better

composition than two or four

threes aren't all neat and tidy

they beg for something more,

something unseen

so the idea of a

trinity holds promise

but not when narrowly

defined

threes call for

mystery and trust

So many ideas, thoughts and concepts are converging in my head, all mixed up and crying for attention. I'm uncertain where to turn first.

That's why I believe I need to retreat: either for real off by myself or, until that can happen, making a  daily retreat in my studio. I feel at a crossroads and I had better make my choice with complete awareness. Part of me wants change and wants it now, no matter the choice and another piece, perhaps the wiser, says wait and do the work first. Acting now could be a reaction to so much busyness last month.

Last January, I retreated via a friend's gracious invitation to her condo in Bloomington, IN, and had a marvelous time writing like a madwoman, enjoying my own company and keeping whatever hours and rules (or lack of) that I desired. I do crave solid time to write. I have completed teaching eight chapters in my book – the entire experience was a glorious gift – and feel the strong urge to translate that into a better manuscript. I also need to plan and schedule the next eight.

Yet bigger things are calling. Like figuring out my real purpose and sacred contracts. Studying the archetypes that influence me and using other new [to me] tools, such as astrology and Scripture, to guide my discoveries and decisions about what happens next. I am just back from a wonderfully full and rich meeting with my spiritual friend/mentor/teacher. She was a whirlwind pulling various articles, charts and study guides from her poke. I needed her whirlwindedness as well as her understanding. I was able to tell her something I've only mention to my spouse, an ugly thought that seems to be driving me and robbing me all at the same time. She validated my anger and suggested I really let it out instead of letting it dribble out at times that may not be so appropriate (she also told me not to judge those). She said a rubber hose works well for expressing anger. It made me laugh and reminded me of the time a rather new writer friend and mentor told me that power tools are great for expressing frustration.

Thinking of these three (including the friend with the condo) as well as beginning to work with my archetypes has led me to see all of the wise and wonderful helpers I currently have in my life; some who even surprised me when I jotted them down. I am blessed with healers and mentors, nurturers and truth-tellers, companions and guides, sages and listeners, angels and mystical children. The list is starting to make me wonder why I want to be alone!

• Do I currently feel any need for retreat?

• How can I manage that in some form?

• Specifically, what am I being called to in such a retreat?

• What tools or others could guide me?

• Who are the current helpers in my life for which I am grateful?

in my mind,

when the hatches aren't

battened

things flap like

crazy

pulling me here

and there

when I can share

even some piece

with a trusted

helper, I see

my way a bit more

clearly

and with

gratitude

My family witnessed my whirlwind-organizing-and-pitching campaign over the past week. They, mostly, stayed out of my way. I have had rare weeks of good, solid sleep. As a result, I would bound out of bed ahead of anyone else and not stop until my head hit the pillow at night. I have been so productive de-junking and de-cluttering. It has felt cathartic after the stagnancy of too many festivities and obligations even though they have been trimmed out of simplicity.

But that's an old pattern. One I had better learn from or I will find myself right back down in the no-energy hole. So right now, I am in contemplation and examination mode. That also always hits after the holidays and, often, like today, when the kids get back to a routine. I want one, too, but also need space to decompress.

Today's agenda was simple: hit the pool, come home and spend some time in prayer, reading and reflection. This blog is part of that reflection. I stopped reading and journaling when I hit a BIG opening, which I will relate in a minute.

Last week, while at the library, I stumbled onto a copy of Caroline Myss' Sacred Contracts book. Though I was not specifically looking for it, it was no accident. Ever since I had a past-life, astrological report done in November, I have wanted to understand what my work/contract is. I know parts of it and have an inkling for the bigger picture, but am a bit stuck as far identifying the next step. And my worldly exposure still rears its head begging to know what it is, exactly, I am doing in a secular sense ... besides naval gazing (and parenting, living with a chronic condition, working on a book, facilitating a nurture group, etc.).

I am having a hard time putting the book down. The first thing to strike me was the idea of forgiveness. That's a recurring subject for me. I even co-facilitated a forgiveness worship that was powerful. But Myss' spin is that opting not to forgive can create unhealthy energy patterns. Wow, that sounded a powerful chord in me. She also furnishes the example of a young man frozen in inaction, a place I know well. She writes that he remembers a time before his birth and parts of his contract. That knowledge renders him unable to act. I believe I am frozen more because I am not yet ready for action.

Myss uses the Christian tradition (along with Jewish and Buddhist) in a way that captures my attention rather than diverting it. So much Christianity has become rote to me and the reason Quakerism's emphasis on the experiential resonates so deeply. I want to know God, not be told about God. But I am particularly taken with her examination of Jesus' life. I have always been drawn to Jesus: as a child and as an adult. I once had the experience of walking in his body and was so grateful for Marcus Borg's delineation between the historical Jesus and the mystical Jesus. I want to know the mystical Jesus more intimately. My past-life report also said Jesus was my model and guide. No kidding. My Myers-Briggs type is the rarest and the one many calculate Jesus would have had. Kind of makes me giggle because, at times, I feel so far removed from Jesus, but at others, so close. Myss suggests that when we become conscious of our contracts, we break away from the general (secular) mindset and that Jesus' "outsider status marked his public ministry." I often feel like an outsider.

I could bore you with more passages, but the point is, I am supposed to be reading this book as I ponder my next step in life. I screeched to a halt when I read about how Jesus released his pain and psychological suffering (often deleted from some Bibles because it makes Jesus seem too human) to God before the crucifixion. That IS my next step: to release my pain and suffering to God.

I want ALL of you.

You don't have to fix anything.

You can't.

You've given me your heart and body.

Now, give me your mind and I

will heal it. Thats been your battle.

Surrender your wonderful, but weary, mind to me.

Let Jesus be your example.

TRUST.

So, what else is there to do?

Oh yeah, forgive. That's what Jesus did from the cross.

I would be honored if you would hold me in prayer at this juncture of the journey. I don't know how to surrender that part of me, but I desperately want to.

• Where am I right now, in the new year?

• Is action calling me?

• How/where do I find space for contemplation and reflection?

• What wisdom is being offered to me?

• What is my prayer for the current leg of the journey?

my response to

obligation and too much emphasis on

ONE day or season

is to explode and/or

find peace

the explosion may come

in activity or sniping

at others I love

though it's not their fault

the remedy is the

antithesis: quiet,

prayer and reflection

in that,

wisdom opens

and I find myself

again

in the arms

of God

Listen to this post: http://www.turtleboxstories.com/audio/surrendercathy2.mp3

last Sunday of Advent - "Anticipating the Promise of Transformation"

Christmas Eve service (including a Readers Theater I wrote)

Christmas day service, "Promise of Promises"

TRUST

To some degree, you do have to trust the water to hold you. You must believe that it will support you by giving yourself to it, without losing yourself in it – if that makes any sense. Something new is created between what the water offers and what we must give up. Together, this something between is formed.

PATIENCE

Water is 11 times denser than air, so we learn our bodies move and work differently here. We can feel less in control until we trust and practice this way of being. Parts come naturally, others are learned. Experiencing being in the water over time shapes the unnatural into the familiar and, in my case, beloved.

Breath may be more important in water because we have to pay attention to it. It allows us to submerge for periods and keeps the fluidity in our movement when we are aware and using it purposefully. This combination of in sync breathing and movements creates a bodily rhythm that can become calming and meditative. I usually have to burn off some frustration and busy-mindedness first. When I find the balance and my rhythm, it is magical as I glide almost effortlessly along. Even the drag becomes part of the patterned movement.

SURRENDER

Describing how to surrender is difficult because it isn’t just giving in or up. This act is more creative than that. Surrender is, really, all of the above: trusting the water to hold you, patience in being in it and finding your rhythm. When you strike that balance, there is a newness in the space. All you and something else, merged as the boundaries between skin and water recede. Today as I was swimming, I noticed it comes as what’s inside myself fuses with what’s outside. And for me, that feels divine and requires me to let go of thinking and control.

The living water is life-giving, supportive, healing, renewing, creative, loving, challenging, strengthening, soothing, calming, discharging, yet also demands respect and gratitude.

This living water has taught me so much about my spirituality. It is a tactile way I experience the divine.

Dive in!

• How do I surrender?

• What similarities does that share with my experience of the divine?

• Where else do I surrender in my life?

• What new emerges when I do?

as I dance

down the steps,

I find myself

gliding off

gracefully,

headfirst and

without my arms

dipping under one

lane barrier and

into the next

fully accepted,

I dive right in

Listen to this post: http://www.turtleboxstories.com/audio/waterassurrender.mp3

Tried NOT to dwell on the thought that I needed a second mammogram all of last week and I did well in not keeping it front and center, but it did gnaw a bit, always at the back of my mind. I presume that's natural. This is the third time in 12 years I've been called back. Each time I worry a little less, telling myself it was ok last time, but remembering my mother's sister who died of breast cancer.

I did not feel ill in any way. As a matter of fact, I have slept better and had less pain than in months. Friday morning I did all of the chaturangas (holding a push-up position as you slowly lower yourself down) without straining in yoga and slid into upward dog with ease. I felt strong and healthy.

I was greeted by Kitty, a wonderful imaging technician I had remembered from previous years. She put me right at ease. We discussed the variety of scenarios (one picture may be enough, the radiologist may ask for more or order a sonogram), but that I would definitely meet with a doc that afternoon and know my results PERIOD. No going home wondering.

As I undressed, Kitty explained that the more pressure I could take, the better the scan would be. I held my breath (easy thanks to regular swimming and yoga) as the machine pushed. Finally, I called enough. She got the film and said that was a hefty amount of pressure. I was ushered back to the closet-like changing room and told I would know something in ten minutes. I picked up the copy of Caroline Myss' Sacred Contracts I had brought along and focused on that. I was reading about her clients that began to see the incidents in their lives more metaphorically. I was particularly entranced by her series of dreams of being grounded and not allowed on a plane as she finished to complete her first book. It meant her book wasn't ready yet, even if she thought it was. I compared that to the book I seem to have been working on for ages, but know teaching it right now is more important and feeding me to create an even stronger work.

The doctor roused me from somewhere else. I had also been praying that I could handle whatever the news. It was all so dreamlike, the radiologist saying the picture was so much different than the original and that everything was normal. "Go out, buy yourself something, you deserve it, enjoy the holiday and we'll see you back in a year." He knew it had to have hit me hard. I thanked him, only it seemed like I was on autopilot and observing from above. It was all so surreal. I closed the door and as I dressed, tears streamed down. Tears of relief, tears of de-stress, but, mostly, tears of gratitude.

I had felt held in a very safe place, somewhere aloof from the chatter of the world, from the instant I entered the imaging center door. It all confirms for me that God does have special work for me, as he does us all, and this was not going to get in the way! This experience has opened me to a newer place; one I am not yet able to define.

That night I wrapped presents until midnight, awoke at 7 am (this is the kind of energy I used to have BF/before fibro) and started right back in with Christmas prep. My youngest fought me tooth and nail all day long. I still don't seem to remember that when I bury myself in a project and she's around, I can't detach myself from her. I finally closeted myself in the small kitchen bathroom and sobbed. I did not know what she wanted from me [and told her so, then we embraced] and then I knew my next action was to haul my body to the gym and swim it off ... every iota of stress from the health scare and the holidays. It was so clear: I had neglected any self care. Mechanically, objectively, as if I were not part of the decision, I gathered my gear and told my family I'd be back when it was time to go to my mom's.

The pool was gloriously empty and bathed in afternoon sunlight. After a frenetic swim, I grabbed two noodles and floated for what seemed like en eternity. Again, I felt held and held apart.

I don't know what this is, but it feels very right and the next step in wherever I am headed. I surrender to it.

• How do I handle tenuous situations?

• How have I learned to surrender into Spirit?

• When have I felt held apart?

• What did that teach me?

• To which work is Spirit currently calling me?

took a deep inhale,

then exhaled audibly and

shut the car door

did much the same

as I opened the

imaging center door

after that, I don't

recall actively participating

I sorta sailed through

conversing with the

technician, waiting

alone, reading

then hearing the

doc say the scan 

was normal

where was I?

being held

somewhere apart

Listen to this post: http://www.turtleboxstories.com/audio/heldsomewhere.mp3

Join us in our Advent sermon series. Here, Lynn Holt shares about the Advent idea of waiting through the promises given to Abram & Sarai.

Are you living into your name? Have you ever even thought about it? I hadn't much until Sunday's worship when I heard a message about living from the heart, which we then practiced the rest of silent worship.

It was overwhelmingly powerful for me. Mostly because it affirms where I live most of the time – a place I struggle with because it runs so counter to our culture and the direction most people are oriented. The minister spoke of compassion as being the strongest emotion/feeling we experience; that some of us have developed our vagus nerve more fully than others. Science confirms that this nerve wanders from the brain stem through the heart and into the abdomen. It affects the throat, voice box, windpipe, lungs, heart, esophagus, intestinal tract and colon. This nerve connects the heart and brain, letting the heart communicate to the brain and not the reverse. How completely interesting and affirming! By the way, Donne, our minister, says we can best strengthen our vagas by practicing even greater compassion.

So often my heart feels as if it's going to explode out of my chest. There's swirling and energy I can barely contain. It's not a medical issue because I've had that checked. I've wondered if it's stuck energy, untapped creativity or trapped emotion. But after Sunday, I realize  it's that I have to let God's love flow through me, not just into me. I've been hoarding it, rationalizing that it was mine alone.

It's not. So I really focused on letting it pour out of every cell in my being, into those behind and around me, into the entire congregation and beyond.

Donne paraphrased Rumi about compassion opening the heart much like a rose flowers. She had a hard time speaking it without intense emotion. It sparked a similar reaction in me as I heard her words.  I had already been toying in the silence with the fact Catherine means pure. But now I was recognizing how my heart also blooms, much like my maiden name Rose. Catherine Rose: pure rose/heart. Such a gift my parents have given me.

I want to fully live into this awareness. The revelation helps me see more clearly who I am as well as the gifts I really am called to use. Not waste or abuse. Frankly, I have been fighting who I am because I don't seem to fit most places. I mean really fit. As in feeling completely at home in all that I do and am.

Yesterday, I sailed, glowing, through the day fully aware of my gifts and using them. Today, I woke up after a late night, which threw off my entire schedule, and I began to sink into some despair without my morning swim. Then I remembered this new awareness and decided that, yes, I do need a routine, but the harder days and circumstances will not separate me from the path God has presented.

• How often do I live in my heart?

• How do I experience that?

• What was my most recent act of compassion?

• How have my gifts been revealed?

• Where is God currently leading me and am I following willingly?

living contemplatively

much of the time

it's hard to enter the

real world and

not be touched

by need and hurt –

someone else's

it pierces me deeply

and there, in my heart,

I would let that sit

taking up space inside me

building up in my heart

til I thought I'd burst

then the rose opened

within my chest,

dissolving barriers

and shining out

into the world

http://salonforthesoul.blogspot.com/2011/12/shining-out-into-world.html

Our Advent series is called "Anticipating the Promise." The message in this podcast is from me, with several sharing in open worship afterwards. I explain where we've been in our previous sermon series and tie that in with the Advent theme, reminding us that God is with us now, and we can hear part of the story of God's interaction with humanity through the biblical text when the Spirit speaks through it to us today. I use the passage from Isaiah 7:14 that is quoted in Matthew 1:22-23 to remind us that God fulfilled and continues to fulfill prophecies given through those prophets long ago, but that we also can hear God's prophetic word and the Spirit's message can be fulfilled in us, too.

Mark agreed to feature my show, "Spirit in the Digital Age," on his "Spirit in Action" program, and I've added a bit of material to fit the 55 minute format, namely an interview with Chris Pifer and Aaron Crosman on what makes a website "Quaker."  What do Quakers and Quaker organizations bring to the technology table?  How do we use and develop our websites to best serve the particular needs of Friends?  What role does deliberation and Quakerly intention play in our relationship to the web?  As I found out, there is more going on "behind the scenes" than you might think... 

Listen and find out!

Listen to my full show on Northern Spirit Radio

Somehow I grew up with the idea that to be a good Christian, God would ask you to give up everything at home and travel far away. There was pain and suffering. That's what we were told missionaries do and we revered missionaries.

Yesterday in the car, it hit me why I have always liked theologian Frederick Beuchner's quote about vocation being "the place your deep gladness meets the world's deep need." Because God calls us where our hearts are.

For years, I have been trying to reconcile the secular world's view of success and happiness within myself and it's never worked. I've had money and I've had time, but I've never had money and time. Time, for me, is way more important: time to discover my inner self, time to build a regular relationship with God, time to nurture others, time to paint, time to write, time to heal, time to become healthy, time to spend with others, time to really listen, time to be quiet, time to reflect.

There's still a small part of me pulling to get that job, look for work and give up my dream. Mostly out of loneliness and some need for affirmation. I am trying to be faithful to where God calls me.

I am being called to surrender not to pain and suffering or moving far away, but to not only do, but believe in the work that gives me the greatest joy: writing, making art and teaching spiritual nurture all bound together by this turtlebox framework that God planted in my heart several years ago. I must trust that it will take me on the path that's right for me as well as provide the necessary resources.

I've been trying to control the process about which piece comes first, what person to approach, when something is finished or not, whether I need to back up and earn money in another way; basically, I have tried to control the business part of the process. It's much easier to let the creative part flow. Our culture doesn't recognize, let alone honor, a business model based on Spirit's leading. But I should.

I attended a new Bible study yesterday. One my mother is leading with a variety of women from different Christian traditions. We're reading Luke and I was immediately struck by Elizabeth's easy way of embracing the announcement of her late-in-life pregnancy, then going off for five months to wait. It was so unlike her husband, who was struck mute because of his disbelief. Mary was just as accepting.

Passages about these women helped me see the connection to my periods of waiting while something of God's forms in me. I am a patient person and feel as if I've been waiting a dozen years for my fruit to ripen. Elizabeth waited much of her life.

It's like I keep sticking my finger in the baking cake, it comes out wet and I tell myself: "It isn't done yet." I want to crank up the temperature and hasten it's doneness, but then it will only be a sloppy mess.

Lord, please teach me to let go of my impatience, comparisons to secular models, need for outside affirmation and revel in the joyful work you have given me!

• What illusion of being faithful have I discovered and am shattering?

• What truth stands in its place?

• Where is God currently calling me?

• Am I patient?

• Am I willing?

how does a soul

do its real work

the juicy inner stuff

that needs tending and time

when it feels alone

in doing so

when it can't

seem to find another

walking the walk

when it doesn't

produce a paycheck

or create exciting

party banter 

how does a soul

leave the loneliness

and outside expectation

behind

replacing it

with God's

presence and promise?

http://salonforthesoul.blogspot.com/2011/12/juicy-inner-stuff.html