I am part of an amazing group of online writers that is given a prompt weekly and asked to do a free write for 10 minutes. We then share anonymously and give thoughts on each others writing. It isn’t about creating the best piece of work, or crafting everything just so, it is simply the invitation to show up, to let the floodgates open and to see what happens. It is amazing to me what pours out when you give yourself direction, time and space.

I am sharing my pondering for last weeks prompt hoping you will join in. I feel like so many of the ponderings, the thoughts we would normally share over coffee, over a playdate, on a walk aren’t happening, so I am opening up a broader conversation. I would love to hear your response to the questions, thoughts and ponderings. I am welcoming you to a collective coffee date- pandemic style :).

I sit here…

I sit here so many things left undone.

I sit here finally in the office after so much time at home.

I sit here uncomfortable in my own skin in such literal ways, this pandemic has made me more slothlike, less movement in all of my life, no delicious stretches, little movement, no sweat that restores and nourishes and no reaching… simply sitting… so much sitting.

I have started to do yoga again, to delight in my body, to feel the stretch in the inner muscles, to remind myself that I am made for movement, and the sun and the warmer air invites me to walk and to find my way onto the bike again.

I sit here wondering if I will ever feel what I did pre-pandemic.  If I want to. I sit here wondering where the past year has gone and yet not wanting it to be gone yet… and fearful of what this clunky in-between time will reveal… as people move from what was to what is to what will be.

Will we remember kindness, to our bodies, to one another, will we remember what it is like to interact, what will we keep from our pandemic time, what will we gladly get rid of, what lessons have we been reminded of, what lessons would we rather have forgotten.

How are we to soothe our collective nervous systems, to find new ways to relate, to remember what it is like to hug a friend, to sit close, to feel another human in our space and to welcome vs. recoil in fear.

What will it be like to walk down the street and not wonder if we should or shouldn’t wear a mask, or what does the CDC or local health authority say about this activity… what will it be like to have our lives back in a new way, what will it be like now knowing there are so many fissures and cracks in relationships, so many things that have happened, so many new narratives, so many new ways of learning what life looks like from another’s perspective.

I sit here and wonder what this collective trauma will unearth, how/if it will be used to heal or to harm.  How what we have learned about trauma, about how we respond to trauma, about how we are to care for ourselves and others, about how little control we have, about how much control we have over certain aspects of our lives… learning to live in this in-between.

Every generation it seems has their galvanizing moment/thing… wars, famine, natural disasters… now add global pandemic, racial unrest, a radical remembering of what our collective history truly is and what we have suppressed.   How will this be remembered, how will this be talked about.

Who will this show us to be?

Will we be another “Greatest Generation” at the end of the day did we care for one another, did we show up in ways that are meaningful, did we allow circumstances to change us, to shift us to mold us.

As I sit here I ponder all of these things, connected by a keyboard, and this ethereal internet that then places these words in your hands, in your heart and I wonder… what will your answer be to this prompt?

Lent is often a time for many of us when we start to dig a little deeper, carve out some silence in the busyness of life. Of course pandemic life has everything turned upside down, but perhaps these offerings are just what your soul needed. They can be used as prayer prompts, journal prompts, meditation prompts, or just a moment of reflection in a busy season.

Sign up here for the 40 Days of Deep Wisdom:

Sign up here for the 40 Days of Silence

Whatever way you choose I hope that you are able to find some restoration, some healing, some silence, some ways to reconnect.

It is that time of year again when many of us who are deep in the midst of cold and snow hunker down and cozy in for a period of reflection and silence.

There is something that is so hauntingly beautiful and quiet about the way the snow falls from the sky, silently blanketing everything in pure white.  A new beginning of sorts that beckons us to become more silent as well.  Each year I find after the hustle and bustle of Christmas and New Year’s my soul often seeks out silence and reflection to think about what the year ahead may bring.

A friend offered this beautiful piece on her Facebook page and it was one of those pieces that caused me to stop scrolling and sit to think more about the space beyond prayer and the moment when one truly dissolves into the silence…

As my prayer become more attentive and inward
I had less and less to say.
I finally became completely silent.
I started to listen
– which is even further removed from speaking.
I first thought that praying entailed speaking.
I then learnt that praying is hearing,
not merely being silent.
This is how it is.
To pray does not mean to listen to oneself speaking,
Prayer involves becoming silent,
And being silent,
And waiting until God is heard.
~ Søren Kierkegaard

If you are interested in cultivating more silence in your life, sign up for my free 40 Days of Silence offering here.

May this New Year hold the possibilities of new beginnings and new discoveries that await you in the silence that invites you home.

 

The Work of Christmas

When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and the princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among brothers,
To make music in the heart.

Howard Thurman- a mystical, prophetic preacher active in the civil rights movement who studied with Rufus Jones and joined the Wider Quaker Fellowship in the 1960s.

Black Fire: African American Quakers on Spirituality and Human Rights

I had a friend recently who was headed to do hard things.  And as I gave her a hug I whispered in her ear

“The angels are already waiting for you there.  You are not alone.”

It wasn’t me whispering, rather, it was me being willing to be a vessel.

When I make space for silence in my life so I can hear those little whispers, when I make space to be a vessel I am given opportunity after opportunity to show up, to share the ministry of presence, to be who and what that person needs in the moment.

Perhaps our only work is to be willing to be silent long enough to be given our instructions on how in that moment to be a vessel for love.

We have been hearing a lot of bad news in the world lately, and with all that is happening it is easy to find ourselves despairing at the state of the world. It certainly seems that there is a fair share of darkness that has been dominating lately.  I wanted to offer a little light, and the reminder that things are not always what they seem.

The other day I was presenting on my favorite topic to a group of college students, the “Art of Deep Listening”.  I always begin the presentation the same way, by asking the group to share the last time that they felt deeply listened to.  It is interesting to see the themes emerge and hear people share their stories of feeling loved through listening.  According to my informal poll, it seems that mothers and best friends are the best listeners.

One of the young woman shared about how the night before as she had been stressing about finals, and overwhelmed with everything she had to do her roommate deeply listened.  She never told her that she was overreacting, she didn’t tell her to suck it up, or try to show her all that she did had under control, or share with her all of her solutions.  Instead, she listened generously, shared her presence for as long as it was needed, and then, she made her a waffle for breakfast that morning.

And sure enough, after a good night of sleep, feeling heard and understood the world seemed a lot more manageable, and whatever was looming large the night before seemed to fall into place, at least a little bit.  But the kind act of being provided for, of being nurtured and cared about “fixed” what was “broken”.  Her roommate knew a secret that we too often forget… sometimes things aren’t meant to be fixed, or changed in that moment, it is in these small acts of kindness, of nurturing that we heal each other.  It is in these small acts of compassion that we remind each other that the world can be a safe place.  It is in offering a safe space to be that healing can happen.

When we can offer a soft place to land for those we love, when we can share with one another our  little acts of love, we light up the world.

And we could all use a little more light in the world.