Over the Rainbow

Is it the end of a perfect day?  When in the midst of rain and shadows, rainbows appear in the sky over this river....

Is it the universe, smiling on a good day for the human race as we celebrate an American court's declaration that ALL are created equal?  Or is it simply a step- as we note the day before another ruling that affirms discrimination.  We are not out of the woods- equality remains on life support- condition improving, critical but stable condition.

On the homefront, too, there is suddenly a parting of dark clouds.  I read a chapter from The Wizard of Oz to my daughters, our nightly bedtime ritual these days-- remembering those nights with my sister long ago snuggled beneath the covers when I would read this same book to her.  Oh Somewhere over the Rainbow, Bluebirds fly...

And as I sit with my husband tonight talking-- me, walking my yellow brick road toward courage, and he, beside me in search of his heart-- and all of us, our children, in search of a home-- there are still dark woods to walk through, but I can see a rainbow in our sky.

This is hope, and more.... Transformation, he tells me, explaining how he has changed the angle of his summer service.

A change of heart.

There is still so much work to be done... but I too am an idealist, and believe that change is possible, and with cryptic lines, lean body, heart, and mind with the universe toward justice.

For a moment the clouds have lifted, a rainbow appears in the sky, and all shall be well, and I shall believe.

Grace

It is a rare thing that I resist the morning.  Over and over again, no matter how challenging the days are, no matter if I have ended the evening before in tears of anger or sadness, a new sun strikes me as a fresh beginning and I awaken with enthusiasm to begin the day. It has been that way for years, and I have been sustained by an energy that moves me from within.  While I have struggled with the sorrows of life, I have not been overcome by despair. 

But this morning, and the past few mornings, I could not rouse myself with that familiar sense of newness....and rather than bring myself to sit on the cushion, I went instead to the dull escape of email.  But it was there, on my computer screen, that I found small snippets of grace.  In my inbox sat a morning meditation that offered words of understanding and inspiration... and another email from a fellow congregant that washed away a worry I had been carrying... a reminder to be at ease, that all shall be well.  A little touch of grace.

Perhaps my desire to remain curled inside the covers is more a longing for rest than it is a caving in to the ferocious jaws of depression and despair.  Perhaps it is simply a recognition of all I am so exhausted from carrying, and the desire to let go. But "letting go" can go a couple different ways-- it can mean letting go into something dark that shuts down the heart and soul... or it can mean letting go into a larger  kind and loving presence that carries us. 

I remember an anti-oppression retreat I participated in a few years ago which involved long periods of check-ins in a large group.  Over and over, people of diverse race, gender, sexual orientation, and class shared from the deep pain and joy of their being-- and over and over, I listened attentively, holding with love all that was shared...until a moment came when I could hold no longer, and I collapsed in an outpouring of tears for pain I also carried in my being.  As I cried, arms and hands reached out to hold me;  it was my immediate response to say- "I'm ok"... but our facilitator answered, "No, Let us hold you", and I fell back into arms-- from exhaustion into love. 

So I wonder at this moment, when I feel that sense of worrying about and caring for more than I can handle, that same desire to let go-- to fall back into arms that can hold me. And I lean into these words, received in my email this morning from "A Common Meditation for All Souls"... I lean into the gift of grace....

Grace strikes us when we are in great pain and restlessness. It strikes us when we walk through the dark valley of a meaningless and empty life. It strikes us when we feel our separation is deeper than usual, because we have violated another life, a life which we love, or from which we were estranged. It strikes us when our disgust for our own being, our indifference, our weakness, our hostility, and our lack of direction and composure has become intolerable to us. It strikes us when, year after year, the longed-for perfection of life does not appear, when the old compulsions reign within us as they have for decades, when despair destroys all joy and courage. Sometimes at that moment a wave of light breaks into our darkness, and it is as though a voice were saying: “You are accepted. You are accepted by that which is greater than you, and the name of which you do not know….” If that happens to us, we experience grace. After such an experience, we may not be better than before, and we may not believe more than before. But everything is transformed.

(Paul Tillich, 1886 – 1965)  

 

Love Beyond Measure

Tonight I share a meditation with my daughter, holding my hand gently on her back, practicing presence.  She has worked so hard tonight, dedicated hours to finishing a project for school, and still it is not complete.  She is exhausted and frustrated- a brilliant mind overwhelmed by limiting expectations, a wild spirit fighting to be free.  I am her and she is me-- though I have learned over time the difference between discipline that frees me into greater expressions of soul... and the kind that is imposed and pressed upon me unwittingly, threatening to erase me.   I encounter both in my life now, and lean more fully into the first, which is spiritual discipline, that I might have the strength to face and stand up to the second, which is oppression.

As I hold my hand to my daughter's back I am aware of her long dark hair, of her heartbeat pulsing blood through her body, of her incredible patient stillness.  I think of all she has said tonight-- all she has expressed- quirky and silly, or sad and lonely.  She is so amazing, and I wrap my arms around her and tell her I love her.  She is smiling and I know that she knows that she is unconditionally loved.

To be loved beyond measure is something I have known and experienced for myself-- even in moments as recently as this week.  Without this experience, I would have nothing to give.  But from love, compassion flows outward.  I had a friend tell me today- "nobody has ever done anything like this for me before"- an expression of gratitude for time I had given her, something I had considered only a small extension of support.  And yet, I know that when gestures of love are given to me-- even those small extensions-- I am filled with so much gratitude, and perhaps even question if I deserve it.  It is this experience of receiving that makes me want to spend all my days just extending that love to others-- paying forward what kindness and care has been offered to me.

This flow of love extends even unto the difficult- to the ones who annoy or bother or create conflict.  One of my favorite spiritual practices I have been doing lately is to take the name of all the people I will see or speak with or write to within a given day with me into my morning and evening prayer.  I also bring the names of those who I hold in special intention.  For me this prayer is simply a holding.  I do not know what I might ask for each person-- but that they might be well.  And if it is someone I am going to meet with in spiritual companionship then I pray that the Spirit may lead us. I also hold those who I may have experienced tension with, who may not be near to my heart, but in holding the edges begin to soften with forgiveness, and I begin to see the light that dwells within.

More and more this practice has begun to transform my life, so that there is no separation between spirituality and every day life.  More and more we create safe space, and the shy soul emerges.  This week alone I have received countless blessings, places where the spirit has opened-- from the  unplanned conversation with a co-worker troubled by what she's seen in her work with burnt-out teachers and the human spirit "left behind"... to my daughters sharing their imaginative ideas about what God is after we've read a story from a children's bible... to the congregant I pray with on a sunday morning on the bench beside our cherry blossom tree... to the friend who shares her pain and tremendous courage on a drive to a doctor's appointment... to the heartfelt emails I receive from companions near and far...to the invitation to connect with a new person in spiritual direction.  While this work may not be my livelihood, more and more each day it is my life.

I said recently about my economic woes and the violence and hatred of this world-- well this is just the water we swim in.  But if that is the water, then these blessings are also here-- they are rays of sunlight gleaming on the waves, the pull of tide, the miraculous life beneath the surface.  

For the rest of this week I hold my children and my husband, my co-workers, and the names of congregants I will join with on Friday night.  I have been invited to lead a section of a meeting on Friday night called "The Abundance of Spirit and Joy"-- and yet, if there is to be abundance of spirit I know I will not need to lead, but only to follow, and to let it in. 

Transforming the Shadow

The spirit leans toward restoration.  After a month of difficult shadow work, the air feels just a little lighter these past June days.  The shadows are still there, and even as I do the work of integration, new ones rise to the surface.  Integration makes me stronger, and these new shadows are not so frightening.  Now the mud-covered raging huntress and the opulent jeweled Cruella Deville  are aspects of repressed selves I am facing head-on, aspects that repel me when I encounter them in the world...aspects I have buried deep within myself.

Wrath and Greed are two of the seven deadly sins.  I suppose it might be Dante's traipse through Hell to confront his own- and our collective shadow.  And just look at the way these shadows manifest collectively-- mass murder and war, and economic exploitation, neglect of the poor and needy.  This is our spiritual work to transform these shadows first in our own lives, that we do not transfer them onto others.

This has been my work, aided greatly by contemplation. As I have read recently, it is the work of the spiritual director first and foremost to develop his/her own mystical faculty-- to deepen in contemplation.  I know when I do this, the way is made clear and gifts arise.  Already this is true.. so I am recommitting these past few weeks to mindfulness practice, awareness, and prayer.  

These are just a few words tonight-- beauty, nature, children, friends-- so many gifts there.  Pages in my gratitude journal...much is emerging.  It is not enough to meet the shadow-- we must then dance with it, befriend it, integrate it, and ultimately transform it into light. I am thankful l for all who offer me the help I need along this journey.