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Archive for the ‘Life as Prayer’ Category

Kind Eyes: The Road to Self-Love…

Posted in Erica Experiment, Gifts, Life as Prayer, Shifts, tagged , , on April 7, 2012| 3 Comments »

 

I shared with you one of my Erica Experiments-  about saying Goodbye to TV.  And the truth of the matter is over the past two years I have been engaging in several other experiments, and I am ready to be brave and share some of them with you.

Here is a short list of what I have been experimenting with:

living with more intention,

saying no more often so I can say YES to the things that matter,

prioritizing differently,

surrounding myself with the positive in a conscious way while embracing those difficult things that are real and need attention like grief and loss,

choosing to turn towards the light,

embracing my flaws and being able to love myself in the midst of, in spite of and because of my imperfections

being vulnerable and courageous.  

learning new language that supports me- speaking to myself life a friend- someone I love, value and cherish rather than someone I have to tolerate.  

learning how to truly accept a compliment

learning how to allow myself to celebrate my achievements instead of constantly looking to the “next” way to prove myself 

thinking about and shifting how I show up in the world,

learning how to see my gifts, learning how to share them,

learning how to fill myself first and how to give from joy and abundance not from feeling like I “have to” or from a space of lack, 

learning that I am worthy of love and belonging

delving more deeply into my relationship with something larger than myself (aka God, the Universe, the Mystery) and shared some of that in the Benedictions post,

taking big leaps with owning my dreams and saying them out loud  

living authentically and being willing to risk dissapointment

learning to tell the truth- to myself and others 

learning big lessons about letting go, about deep trust, about listening to my intuition, about holding myself gently and A LOT about forgiving myself. 

At first I share what I have been learning only with my trusty journal.  And then because I can’t help myself I would strike up a conversation with someone and when I would share my struggle, or my truth, or my learning more often than not they would lean in, their voice would get quiet their eyes searching mine wondering how I could see straight to their heart and and they would whisper “me too”.  Time and time again I realized that I wasn’t alone.

Our hearts our so similar, they are jagged and cracked, tender and bruised and yet they are so beautiful.

In spite of it all here we are- our hearts still beating.  We marvel in wonder at one another’s courage, bravery and we love them so fiercely- and yet we forget to offer ourselves that same fierce love.

And then quotes would be on my Facebook page, I would stumble onto a blog post, or another conversation and I would be reminded that these are things that we all struggle with, that we all muddle through, and so often we do it on our own because we think we are the “only ones.”  And yet, we have this amazing connection, we have all of these wonderful similarities, and so often we don’t reach out to realize how achingly beautiful we all are, how wonderfully tender and resilient we are… we see it in others certainly, but we often refuse to see it in ourselves.

I have a picture of myself as a child on my fridge, now with a picture of my niece next to it and it is striking the similarities.  And wonder when i stopped looking at myself with kind eyes.  When I look at pictures of Annabelle I see a purity of spirit, a tiny human brimming over with love, with innocence and joy.  I see nothing but beauty.  So one of my grand Erica Experiments has been to look at myself through kind eyes.

In pictures when I look with kind eyes I see it all in such a different light, so full of possibility, so tender, so adorable, and I don’t pick apart and analyze any of it.  I think the random curls in her hair are precious and part of the very reason she radiates beauty.

What if we all looked at ourselves with kind eyes.  So that has been my road to self-love lately.  Asking myself to look with kind eyes at myself and the rest of the world.

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Benedictions…

Posted in Gifts, Life as Prayer, Light, Uncategorized, Visible Love, tagged , , on March 30, 2012| 15 Comments »

In talking with a friend who is finding his way through the ending of a relationship I wrote these words to help ease his transition:

Know that you are held in my love as you transition, as you honor you, as you leap into the love that the Universe has waiting for you now in different forms, and in the future as that love takes the form of another human…

His response: “That’s like a prayer and a blessing wrapped into one.”

And it got me thinking about prayers and blessings, and the power our words have – to help heal, to share certainty when our worlds feel uncertain, and the gentle reminder we are so loved as the words and truth travel from heart to heart.

When I was in high school Pastor Paul Gauche would always end the service with the following Benediction.  To this day my heart still smiles and I can hear his voice echoing in my ears when I read it:

And now as you go from this place, go knowing that you are saved by grace; you are justified, you are forgiven, you are sought out, you are beloved, you are hidden in Christ and made for the glory of God.

You are known, you are never forsaken, you are held in the palm of God’s hand, you are loved. 

May God’s peace and power go with us until we gather again, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

I never tired of hearing those words.  There were many times I would find refuge in them, in the certainty with which he conveyed them to the congregation.  I would close my eyes and for a moment it was as though God himself was bestowing blessings upon me.

Those words spoken each week reminded me that we are known, we are loved, we are sought out, that we need to be reminded on a regular basis that we are chosen, we are so very loved.

We need to be reminded that love seeks to know us, to embrace us, to give us the gifts of presence, the security of being held.  We are given the opportunity so many times to share that with others, to offer those very same gifts that love longs to share with us and we are invited to receive the love that the Universe has waiting for us.
My own faith journey has taken twists and turns since sitting in those pews so long ago but the love that was woven through and held together those words has never left.  The assurance of something larger than myself, something beyond my comprehension, some mystery that holds us close has always drawn me back.  Back to the questions, to the certainty, to the struggle of trying to convey what my heart knows and my head wants to dissect and “prove”.

God is such a heavy word, laden with so much that sometimes I fear using it because I have more questions than answers and so often I don’t want others to think that I have confined God into a little box.  All I know is the closest I have come to God is a swelling from within my soul of love, a deep sense of gratitude for all that I have been given.  I know that in the darkest moments I have been held, that something has threaded my life together to create a beautiful tapestry from bits and scraps that have woven into something beautiful, and sometimes I choose to call it God.

All I know is that there is a homing device of sorts within me, a still, small voice, a sixth sense, a deep knowing, intuition perhaps, angelic guidance, acestoral assistance, perhaps all of those things, perhaps none of them… and for me it is not so much about naming it as living in the intimacy and ecstacy of being near to such lightness of being, to the vibrating core of light and love that I can see but can’t quite seem to explain that guides me, that surrounds me, that heals me.  This healing, this love, this pure goodness, this light, this energy, this something…  brings me peace, leaves me feeling bathed in love and overflowing with gratitude.

For someone who loves to put words to experiences, who strives to name things, who wants to share intimate experiences of the soul with others to deepen relationships it is hard to not know what words to use.  The words that we have are so small, so shallow, so insignificant when faced with the reality of a love that large, that deep, that powerful, that full, that radiant…  and I am torn between trying and failing and just sitting in it not trying to explain it just sharing it without words… and I suppose that is my happy medium… to do both… to do my best to try to explain and when words fail to radiate love from the very depth of my being.

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Acts of Bravery, Anne Lamott and Putting Dreams Out There…

Posted in Gifts, Life as Prayer, Light, The In-Between, Visible Love on March 26, 2012| 6 Comments »

Last week I submitted an essay for a contest called Notes and Words.  The reason I entered the contest was because in addition to some amazing prizes the essayist that won received:

introductions to:

  • Michael Chabon, Pulitzer Prize winner
  • Anne Lamott, New York Times bestselling author
  • John Hodgman, The Daily Show and HBO’s Bored to Death
  • Kelly Corrigan, New York Times bestselling author

It was the introductions to Anne Lamott and Kelly Corrigan that really caught my eye.  And so I put it out there to the Universe, in my prayers, in my heart that that is what I wanted.  I wanted to be able to connect with them, to thank them for their bravery, for their words, for putting their souls on paper.  So I crossed my fingers and toes, submitted my essay and let it go.

When author Brene’ Brown came to town to speak I knew that there were a million and three things I wanted to say to her and yet I knew that when I and the three hundred others stood in front of her to get our books signed I wouldn’t be able to tell her all of the things I wanted to share so I decided to write a letter to her.  I was nervous, but just knew that I needed to do that.  She had been brave enough to put her book out there for all the world to see, the least I could do is to share my honest response.   It wasn’t until a friend said in a wistful voice “Wow, that was really brave” that it occurred to me that it indeed might be.  After giving her the letter, and realizing that for me in that moment it wasn’t about her response, it was about doing it- my giving, sharing and becoming brave was more important.   And it felt amazing, to be able to simply do something that scared me, that stretched me and let it go.

I wanted to make it a habit to sink into that feeling of making courageous choices, to stretch my comfort zone, to reach out in acts of bravery on a regular basis.  So I made a list of things that would be brave for me, lists of people that I wanted to write to, to thank them, to share with them pieces of how they have inspired me, to celebrate what they bring to the world.  And I have been committing my “Acts of Bravery” every month since.  Sometimes it is letters, sometimes it is a blog post I am scared to publish, a conversation that requires me to be vulnerable, a workout that challenges me, or setting my book free into the world.  More often than not it means letting go of control or the outcome in various ways.  Since this commitment I have published my book, wrote several blog posts that required me to summon my courage to hit Publish, sent a letter to SARK, Brene’ Brown, Shauna Ahern from Gluten Free Girl, Jen Gray and Katrina Kenison (which is being mailed this week) and have started a list on my desktop that is titled “Acts of Bravery” where I keep all of the things that I have done, and those that I plan to do.

On Saturday I ran into some friends who mentioned “Oh Erica, you read Anne Lamott right?  Did you know that she will be doing a book signing in the cities on Monday?”  (Enter a chorus of angels singing)  Really!?!?

An opportunity for another committing another “Act of Bravery.”

(A blurry) Anne Lamott and I tonight (with my book and my letter!)

What you can’t see is two of my friends cheering me on in the background as I committed another Act of Bravery.

I am reminded every time I do this, it is a lot easier to be brave when you have your cheering section at your side.  When I share with others what I am doing, why I am doing it I have gotten amazing amounts of support.  I believe people are drawn to support dreams [and I do believe you have to choose your support system carefully.  As Brene’ Brown reminds us- “share with those who have earned the right to hear your story”]  I believe we want to see the best in each other and we want to encourage each other to shine brightly in this world and to do that we have to give others an opportunity to support us, to be in on the dreams.

People can’t support what they don’t know- they can’t share in dreams that aren’t spoken.

I have been reminded time and time again that courage expands when it is spoken, bravery grows by leaps and bounds when given the right nourishment and that we sometimes need a nudge to keep dreaming big.

So here is your nudge to keep dreaming big, here is your invitation to bravery…

What Acts of Bravery will you commit?

The world is waiting!

 

P.S.  The connectedness of all of this- these lessons, these themes, the weaving together of reminders I need and the ways that the Universe/God gets my attention never ceases to amaze me… and leaves me in awe, feeling known, loved and held.  Tonight while going to Jen Gray’s site for the first time in awhile to link to her name her most recent blog post from March 13th included an Anne Lamott quote… grace indeed.

I do not understand the mystery of grace only that it meets us where we are
but does not leave us where it found us..
~ anne lamott

 

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Drifting Snow

Posted in Gifts, Life as Prayer, Shifts, Silence, tagged , , , , on March 5, 2012| Leave a Comment »

Northern Minnesota

Silence…

I have been following my own advice and making time and space to find silence lately, some days five minutes comes easily, and then some days finding myself rushing until the moment I lay down at night only to realize that I never took that time to be silent and still.

I have found silence in various places lately.  Last week I spent one of my 5 minutes with my nephew after putting him to bed, sitting in the chair in his room sharing the sacred space before a little one goes to sleep just listening to him breathe in and out.

This weekend I went on an adventure to Northern Minnesota where silence was woven through the weekend.  Snowshoeing as the snow gently fell walking in silence on freshly fallen snow.  The sounds of the forest muted by the 10 inches of fresh snow they had gotten a few days before and stillness emanating from every tree and rock.  Sitting by a fire in silence with a friend, a glass of wine and no internet, no cell phone reception, watching the waves and listening to the lake.

It reminded me that by giving myself silence, by taking the time to soak it all in things sort themselves out, so often I fall into the habit of fixing everything now, going faster, doing bigger, better things- and so often it is in the silence that reminds me that this moment is enough just as it is.

And as will almost always happen, when I step into stillness, when I offer myself the time to stop, to get off the hamster wheel I emerge refreshed and ready to reengage, recommitting to my promise to myself to live my life from a more authentic, clear, and centered place.

I found this quote upon my return and smiled as I thought about the wisdom of the Lake and all that it had shared with me this weekend.

Wash the dust from your soul and heart with wisdom’s water.

~Rumi

After sitting, centering, being silent I found that my words were tumbling forth… and this is part of a response to a journal prompt my friend had given me:

As I listen to the lake

As I listen to the lake it reminds me that it is a big, vast lake, filled with so many individual droplets of water, yet all are integral to the whole… there are water droplets who revel in splashing against the rocks, who love the idea of jumping onto the shore, and other drops of water who prefer to be in the still, depth and center of the lake… there are yet others who want to glide on the top, gently swaying and rocking, and other drops who want to travel a long ways- distance is their goal, and others who long to stay as close to their home as possible… and all ways lead to the beauty, reflect the who of the lake… the lake is all of them and none of them… the lake simply is… this ancient stillness, this watery heartbeat of the waves… in and out… pulled by the moon, warmed by the sun…

As I listen to the lake it reminds me that there are so many worlds yet to explore, there is so much left to uncover, unearth…

I have only just begun.

Indeed, I have been struggling with a few things lately that have taken a toll on my soul, and my healing has been found in this silence.  This silence has held me in the midst of so much grace, in so much love, in so much compassion.  The silence has helped heal old wounds, it has given me strength to support others as they navigate difficult times, it has given me strength to make brave choices, it has reminded me of my power and my voice and it has reminded me to move with more intention in my life.

In the silence I have heard the voice of love remind me that the story is not over yet, there is so much of my life yet to be written.

In so many ways I have only just begun.

Sitting with silence has brought me so many gifts and I am looking forward to hearing if any of you are experiencing the same…

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Rebuilding…

Posted in Gifts, Grief, Life as Prayer, The In-Between, Visible Love on February 27, 2012| 8 Comments »

Today was a day where words are so inadequate, where one can’t hold all that it contains into a sentence, a post, my hands or my heart.

I was blessed to have spent the day with family and friends near and dear to me honoring life, grieving loss and holding hope. I was reminded of how powerful ritual is, how love can weave together broken hearts, how vital community is and how important we are to one another.  Looking at the people that surrounded me with all of our lives flashing before us, from the picture above, to the moments now so many years later with so much love, light and loss woven within each year, each milestone, each step taken together.  Weaving in and out of each others lives, creating a safety net of community, of connection I was overwhelmed with so many emotions.  With the angelic voice of Heatherlyn lifting our hearts, a moving message about the power of marking the time and the acknowledgement of the difficulty of the firsts of a year after loss an ordinary Sunday afternoon where time was suspended and love was made visible.

Last night I was blessed to hear beautiful music from the talented Leslie Ball whose beautiful stories, sharing and music broke open the hearts of the audience and drew them in from the very first strum of her guitar.  Followed by a reading/talk by Matthew Sanford about his memoir: Waking- A Memoir of Trauma and Transcendence. 

When Matthew Sanford was just thirteen, his family’s car skidded off an overpass on an icy Iowa road — killing his father and sister, paralyzing him from the chest down, and changing his life forever. Years later, yoga would dramatically change it again. In WAKING: A Memoir of Trauma and Transcendence (Rodale, June 2006), Matthew chronicles his journey from the intensive care unit to becoming a paralyzed yoga teacher and founder of a nonprofit organization. Along the way, Matthew gains a deeper understanding of the connection between mind and body, and formulates an entirely new view of existence as a “whole” person.

For years after the devastating accident, Matthew felt a schism, or “silence,” between his mind and his body. As he grew into adulthood, he began studying philosophy in an increasingly frustrating search for answers. Then he discovered yoga. At first, he didn’t even know if a paraplegic could do yoga, but he was willing to try. Guided by his teacher, Matthew began to explore what it truly means to live in a body, and discovered new meaning and purpose in the “distance” between mind and body.

Then while standing in line to get my book signed meeting Joe Stone and learning more about his amazing story.  And being reminded this weekend at every turn, about how people every day experience trauma and transcendence, how people experience love and loss, how we move forwards, backwards and everywhere in-between.  And sometimes it is our own volition that keeps us moving, sometimes it is friends, family, others that share their hope and healing with us, and sometimes it is a moment from a book, a blog, a movie, a stranger that offers what we need at that moment if we are willing to receive the gift.

At the service today, to honor a young life taken much to soon, on what would have been his first birthday, last night hearing Matthew speak, and the stories and songs that Leslie shared, my own experience- they all have common threads… the love of friends and family that sustained us through difficult times, the power of using your experience to guide and help others through, reminders of how dependent we are on one another, reminders that we are all vulnerable to loss as long as we love, that life can change in an instant, that we are all so fragile and yet, so much stronger than we ever knew.

And reading the words from my journal after the funeral one year ago…

It is always the things that you can’t prepare for that hit you the most about grief. Today it was watching as S. and another man went in for the man hug and his suitcoat revealed the hospital band still on his wrist. The dead look in their eyes as shock, grief, fatigue and overwhelm numbed their souls and weighed heavy on their hearts.

It is a wonder we can literally still stand, when grief knocks you to the ground it amazes me that we continue to breathe, that we continue to function in any significant way when you just want to curl up and stop breathing.

And that is the hard part… walking away from the moment where you feel so held, where others feed you, where others tell you when to sit, when to stand, where to go, what to do next… and it is the moments when you have to figure out how to rebuild a life after… what to do next, how to keep going when you feel dead inside.

And somehow it happens. One moment at a time the rebuilding begins. The new castle in the sand. And that is the hard part, with no control over the ebb and flow of the tide, no timeline for how often, when or if the sea will give or it will take away… moments of pure joy and ecstacy in the building of a new castle and then the sweeping in of grief once again and you are left with a mound of wet sand and the decision yet again… to rebuild, to enjoy the process, to sit and let the waves wash over you again and again, to move your castle, to pout, to cry, or to find a new opportunity. Because as long as you love you will be vulnerable to loss, and the deeper your love the deeper your pain, but I have decided there is truly no choice, that my desire to live in love is too strong, even though it is a risk, but the rewards are great. The deeper my love the stronger my support, even when the waves are crashing in and in that moment of being knocked off center there is an underpinning of certainty that I will build again. I will believe in the power of creating another castle, of sharing brief moments of joy, of moments of dancing and honoring all that has been created, all that I have loved and lost. But retaining the little snapshots of joy, little moments of my love being so full and complete that it drowns out any darkness that tries to seep through to color the moment or the memory. It is better to be here… this place where I know that they will be okay… but then the pain of knowing how hard the journey is… how long and how difficult… but also knowing the treasures found along the way…

I was trying to think of how to pull this blog “together” to weave the threads together, to have a striking ending of some sort… but then remembered- that is how life is.  It isn’t packaged neatly, there isn’t always a clear beginning, middle and an end.  Once again I am brought back to the In-Between and how so much of life is lived in the mess where there are no guidebooks and no simple answers.

And sometimes it is all we can do to hold on to one another in love and trust that one step at a time the way will unfold.

We live into the healing, into the meaning of events, sometimes not realizing their full power until many years later.

I can already tell that this was one of those times.

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40 Days of Silence

Posted in Gifts, Life as Prayer, Shifts, Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on February 14, 2012| 5 Comments »

Learn to pause… or nothing worthwhile will catch up with you.

Doug King

Since I had pretty much four days to do not a whole lot but sleep and think, I had been thinking a lot about stopping, about surrendering.   About listening to the voice that won’t yell, that won’t clamor above the noise to be heard, the voice that requires your full attention before sharing it’s wisdom with you.

This is the voice that speaks to me when I write deeply from the heart, the voice that always speaks with love and compassion, but can also share truth that sometimes stings a little.  This is the voice that won’t play games, that won’t appear on demand when I have five minutes, nor will it disappear no matter how long I refuse to make time for it.  It is the voice that helps to balance me, that reminds me to enjoy my life, to drink deeply of each experience, the voice that helps keep me connected to me.

And I realize I haven’t been doing a good job of making time for my inner voice of wisdom lately.

I have been doing a great job of living a life I love, of balancing a lot of competing demands, of being a lot of things to a lot of people- but not carving out specific time to listen to that inner voice of wisdom.  This is one of the dangers of a life that is full… full of events, activities, people, places and things… most of which are chosen well, but I had some time to think through what it is that I want.  Is my work/life balance working, is my self-care working, is my time with friends and family enough, is my writing time/alone time enough.  What is it that I really want and need in my life right now… at least for the next six months.

“The key is not to prioritize what’s on your schedule, but to schedule your priorities.” Stephen R. Covey

One of the best lessons I have learned from my friends who are parents of young children is the constant reminder that the children that you are dealing with today will not be the children you have a week from now, a month from now.  Every day they grow and change, their needs change, their ability to handle life changes, their very beings mold and adapt each day.  And sometimes before a big growth spurt they will momentarily regress to gather themselves to propel to their next developmental stage.  Somehow I had forgotten that as adults we do the same.  Life changes, seasons change, our self-care and priorities need to change with them as well.  And it is good to revisit what is working, what isn’t working and make small adjustments.

As I move towards living my life with more intention, with the goal of becoming the best Erica I can be I am realizing that incremental change isn’t as sexy as declaring that I shall eat nothing but grapefruit and chant 100 prayers a day and do yoga for 30 days straight, but it does certainly get me better results and for me it sticks.

I had wanted to eat better, to incorporate more fruits and veggies, and since watching Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead to use a juicer on a regular basis- I have started to do that because my intention was simple to get at least 5 more servings of fruit a week.  Incremental change, and it has made a difference.

After having a great call with my coach tonight and talking about some of bits and pieces that my inner voice of wisdom has shared since I was forced/made time to listen (because as a good friend pointed out, regardless I was going to be sick, but it didn’t mean I had to learn anything, I made that choice, to be present for the lessons that were unfolding).  I realized that I want more of that in my life.  So instead of the radical change that I would have wanted in the past… perhaps 7 days of silence in a monastery somewhere in Nepal that would have never happened because it would require a passport and vaccinations and tickets and… and… instead, I am taking the incremental change route.

40 Days of Silence.

I am committing to 40 Days of Silence.

And the incremental roll out of that will be that for the next 40 days I will make a conscious choice to carve out five minutes of my day to be silent.  And my coach had asked a great clarifying question “What is your definition of silence?”  And I realized that for me I wanted it to incorporate a few different pieces…

One is that it is without any obvious distractions, but more importantly that it be without “productive thought”.  So often when I sit with the intention of being silent I am trying to figure out what I should write next, or what goal I am working towards, or thinking about wow, it is quiet maybe I should turn on the radio/tv, check Facebook, anything but just savoring this peaceful moment.  So to have it be about savoring the moment as is, whatever that may be.

Two is that I want it to have some element of the natural world.  Living in Minnesota watching the snow fall softly is one of my favorite afternoon activities, but we haven’t had a whole lot this year, and I haven’t made time to enjoy it.  Watching the branches and leaves sway, watching the clouds float by, appreciating the sun on my face when I get a chance to be outside during the day, all of these invite that spacious silence that I am seeking.

Three is sitting in the lap of love.  I have a friend that calls her prayer time lap time.  And whenever I am anxious, frustrated or have wound myself tightly about something that I usually have little control over she will remind me “Have you had your lap time?”.  Taking the time to curl up in the lap of God and enjoy letting go of control, allowing yourself to simply feel completely and utterly loved.

Four is sometimes it will mean more of a moving meditation.  Quietly walking, or stretching, or something else that my body is called to do.

So I know myself well enough to know that I have to have enough structure to make sense, but not enough that it feels claustrophobic.  So how will I know?  I will know it is that time because when I walk away I will feel connected and restored.  I will feel like slowing down.  I will feel like I have just had a tall glass of cool water.

So I am sure that I will share more about my 40 Days of Silence, but I invite you to consider, what is it that you would like more of in your life?  What would you like to focus on for 40 Days?

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Posted in Life as Prayer, Shifts, The In-Between on February 4, 2012| 1 Comment »

“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next.

Delicious Ambiguity.”

~ Gilda Radner

 

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What I am really saying…

Posted in Gifts, Grief, Life as Prayer on December 30, 2011| Leave a Comment »

As I have been cleaning and clearing out space for the new year, taking stock of what was, resting in what is and becoming excited about what may be I have been reading many of my old writings, looking at the quotes, blogs and books that I have collected and have been reminded of the threads that bind all of them together…

And it boils down to some simple truths…

You are okay (really- even when you feel the furthest from it).

Your greatest moments of pain and vulnerability can alchemize into your greatest strengths if you let them.

Healing, love and connection are waiting to be invited into your life.

Compassion, love and kindness are never not needed, nor are they ever wasted.

Your presence is needed.

You are enough, just as you are.

You are so deeply loved.

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Even the process is beautiful…

Posted in Grief, Joy, Life as Prayer, Questions, Shifts, The In-Between on December 8, 2011| 2 Comments »

There is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. Leonard Cohen

I was reading through something I had written a year ago and was struck by the clarity, the depth, and the authenticity of it.

At the time I didn’t feel clear at all.  The words just fell onto the page and I just left them, too tired to “fix” them so they were “pretty and sparkly” (aka- perfect).  I have been reminded recently that the more I try to control things, to rearrange them to fit what I “think” they should be- the more frustrated, overwhelmed and overstimulated I get- and the less clear things are.

It reminded me too, that if we allow ourselves the space and the safety to be brave, to be honest, to be open we often have the wisdom within us to find that next step.  Even when we are swirling in the midst of chaos, if we are able to breathe deeply and tap into the core of our being, the Divine spark within us that knows that where we are is where we need to be will guide us there, one step at a time.

I am slowly remembering (again) to release my death grip on control and perfectionism and see the beauty in the process, in the midst of the In-Between.

So to my heart I vow:

I am no longer waiting to see the beauty until it is all cleaned up and sanitized accordingly- but instead see the beauty in the midst of the pain seeking the raw power of a vulnerable heart.

I am trusting in the process to be the important part, not the moment where you survey your work at the end of your life, instead the living the depth of it in the midst of it.

I am willing to believe that we can become strong in the broken places- and that light shines through in the cracks of our foundations and THAT can be beautiful.

I can give myself the same grace and forgiveness that I offer to others, and to surround myself with people who remind me when I forget.

To let these words apply to me too, not just everyone else:

We’re all stumbling towards the light with varying degrees of grace at any given moment.

Bo Lozoff

To remember even the process is beautiful.

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A Prayer for the In-Between…

Posted in Grief, Life as Prayer, The In-Between, Visible Love on December 5, 2011| 1 Comment »

Christmas Light

A friend of mine wrote this prayer when she was looking for the words to soothe an aching heart and couldn’t find them.

Sometimes that is how the In-Between is… we may find what we need in other people, other’s words, and sometimes we need to write it ourselves, to seek our own healing, to seek our own inner wisdom, to take time to search for the hope held deep within ourselves.

Wherever you are in your In-Between may you find peace, may you find rest for the restless nights, may you find light in the midst of darkness, may you hold yourself gently as you navigate your journey.

May the God of unconditional love surround those that are hurting this Advent season. Loss of jobs, loss of loved ones, and loss of relationships can lead into a loss of hope. Help us to nurture the traditions that heal while creating new ways to honor those not physically present this year. As we fill our hearts with the songs of the season, fill our hearts with gentle compassion for the ones finding it hard to prepare for a Silent Night.

Amen.

~ Alison Feigh

 

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