Lists & Affirmations

It’s funny when I have lots of ideas of what to post, and what feels most pressing is just to talk about the ordinary.  For the ordinary describes the whole.  The ordinary describes the mystery & all the inconsistencies of my life.

Walks & talks with friends old & new.

Waking up late & rushing to work.

Babysitting Cash, my roommate’s dog.  Visiting a few different parks.

Not setting an alarm & letting the sun wake me up.

Inconsistently practicing qi gong this week to Motown.  Great combo, by the way!

Drinking pomegranate tea in the morning.

Finishing up the semester with my students & giving assessments throughout most of the day.

Doing breath work with a friend over a lunch break.

Binging on NY style pizza & cookie dough while watching 13 Reasons Why.

Going on adventures & driving to new places on mornings off.

Indulging in my desire to rest & read.

Planning a summer vacation for myself.

Listening to my fatigue & choosing not to do much this weekend.

Having good days & having days where my allergies flare & my brain feels like mush.

I’ve written a lot this winter & spring.  So much is healing and shifting.  Fatigue and energy come and go.  I’m adding in new foods & taking red meat out of my diet.  I’m finishing out the first two semesters of teaching with my own business.  And I’m leaning into summer, with all its abundance and ordinary-ness.

I’m leaning into my own abundance, my own flexibility and spontaneity.  I’m catching myself when I shame myself for things I can’t do.  I’m practicing coming back to the present moment, being thankful for this body, this breath, even the fatigue, when it lingers longer than I want it to.

I’m reminding myself of how much better I’m doing than last summer.  I’m lingering in the gratefulness that this summer, I will not be moving or starting a new job.  I can trust my body; I can trust what it’s telling me, even if I don’t want to hear it.  I know that intense allergies are a sign of imbalance–yet I don’t have to let that discourage me, or lead me down a path of feeling powerless.

I can trust my body’s subtle signals that remind me that I must rest more than a lot of people do.  I can rest in the fact that my lack of “production” does not make me less valuable.  I can trust my own self-care and reach out for help or say no.  I can just be…things are important and urgent, and I can still just be.

I’m looking to nature to understand what summer is.  It’s indulgent.  It’s restful.  It simply enjoys its fullness and its transformation.

I’m watching for when I overdue it, for when summer’s nice weather is an excuse to push harder and to do more.  I want to come back to my fullness and simply enjoy what is.  This moment where I can just be.

Advertisements

Post-EMDR

 

I finished this intense period of therapy last week.  After 2 introduction sessions, I started into EMDR.  The whole session was just talking about memories, about sensations, emotions, negative thoughts.  After awhile, I could track, even while I was speaking, how someone with my nature, is particularly prone to trauma and how trauma is experienced.

EMDR taught me so much about my sensitive, empathic nature.  How I could feel someone’s sadness or pain, almost deeper than he/she/they could?  How could I feel the energy in an environment and have it affect my energy levels?  How come grief seems to lodge in my body in the way it does?

As I went into these sessions, and my eyes went back and forth across the light bar thousands of times, I came to more fully appreciate my sensitive nature, this deep and unique part of myself.  The more my trauma cleared, the more I could see myself, this very strong, compassionate, empathic woman, for who I really am.

I came to understand how I’ve functioned in relationships that hasn’t served my best interest.  How I must understand serving others in a more nuanced way, because companioning someone in challenges comes naturally to me.  It is not a difficult task for me to try and see the world from another perspective.

So, as I kept going back to therapy, we worked on feeling more grounded, in my gut or sacral chakra.  I wanted to feel grounded in my intuition, not always second-guessing myself.  I wanted to couple my compassion with strength.

I wanted to know if I could sustain myself in a helping profession.  As the trauma cleared, I had more energy in my body to go towards my self-care instead of protecting my pain.  So, I found powerful healing practices that seemed to work with my energy–including meditation, breath work and qigong.

_________________________________________________________________

A deep question that I didn’t realize I was asking until mid-way through therapy was, “Why has the Western Christian church emphasized service (and usually the service of women) at the expense of knowing oneself?”  And how have I been hurt by this reversal?”

I learned early on not to question authority.  They were always right.  Being a “sinner” was emphasized to such a degree that my lifetime of service of God really was a payback–and I was supposed to do this with joy.

Never did we talk about how serving could be a way of avoiding one’s pain.  Never did we talk about sensitive individuals and the propensity for burn-out and the martyrdom mentality.  Never did we talk about why women were encouraged to serve more than men.

There was a lot packed into my formative years and who I was “supposed to” be.  Wanting to please, I did everything I could, until I burned out, quit my job, and found out that I had an autoimmune disease that was running my life.  It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that I did this in the name of God.

But I couldn’t do it anymore.  And so, the last 4 years, have been a deep unraveling.  Of knowing the Divine and myself and those around me.  Of accepting myself and my unique nature and letting that inform how I show up in the world, grounded and compassionate.

Yet, more than an unraveling is happening.  I’m reconstructing my life.  I’m now on solid, yet unknown ground, and that feels as it should be.

I say no a lot more.  I don’t sign up for things just because.  I want my outer life to reflect my inner life.  I’m no longer frantic, searching desperately for meaning.  Now, I can stand in one place, knowing that I can find meaning anywhere.

And I let myself feel that deep joy.  Because when deep internalized trauma no longer clouds my vision, I can finally see what is.  And what is, is a very beautiful gift.

 

Photo by Martin Sanchez on Unsplash

Musings on Peace

I walked through a nature preserve last week in the middle of the day.  The sun had just decided to peek out, and I took advantage of a client canceling by taking a walk outside.  I watched the robins dance in the branches, noticed the water still high by the bridge.  I celebrated the small flowers shooting up, and I found a hidden very small cemetery in the middle of the woods and just stood by it for several minutes, still and silent.

I needed that 35 minute walk.

To take a deep breath.  To check in with myself.  To simply be out in the sun.

As I’m on this journey of coming home to myself, I realize more and more how much time I need alone and in quiet.

My body needs time to acclimate to all the robust changes that have taken place over the past 6 months, all the change that continues even in this moment.

I need a moment simply to say, “I love and accept myself.”

A moment simply to smile and say, “All is well, and all will be well.”

A moment to acknowledge that I’m made to chase joy and adventure.  Sometimes I am to be still and let joy and adventure chase me.

A moment to enjoy.  Just because.

__________________________________________________________________

It’s taken awhile for me to know within my body what being at peace feels like.  What it feels like for my body to feel clear, to not be holding tension in my jaw, in my shoulders.  What it feels like to really take a deep breath.

Not too long ago, by the way I lived my life, I would have defined peace as being accepted by others, and not making them too upset.  Interestingly enough, peace didn’t start with me.

I feel more peace now, linked with a curiosity and adventure, than I ever have in my life.  It’s an inner peace of acceptance.  Accepting and continuing to accept who I am, and how I am to be of service in the world.  Accepting what is mine to do, and what isn’t.

Peace has been linked with boundary setting, yes, but also by simply giving myself permission.  Knowing deeply (not just intellectually) that I am empowered to choose.  I am in control of my own body, of my own mind.  And by simply being myself, I will make some people upset.  And that it’s not my job to take on that energy.  It’s just a reflection of another person’s lack of acceptance.

So some days, I check in and ask myself, “What do I need?”

Last week it was a walk in the sun.  It was listening to my body’s deep desire of movement and quiet and nature.  And I said yes.

_____________________________________________________________________

As I heal and accept myself more and more, my desire for silence and solitude grows.  Some days the amount in which I feel like I need this type of space, feels unnerving.  Yet, I rest in the fact that my body knows what it needs, and I must listen.

There’s this paradox occurring.  I deeply know of my own empowerment, and yet the healing adventure is unknown.  It must be both/and.  This longing of solitude feels like a childhood longing–where time moves on without my knowledge, where my bare feet touch the grass, where I commune with nature and myself, without having to explain or defend.

There’s a gift here for me.  I have spent half of my life defending my need for medical treatment.  Defending that I am worth figuring out what was going on, and to receive adequate treatment.  I’ve also spent a good chunk of my life, hiding, staying small, and not listening to my body.   I get to rest and accept now.

And as I rest, part of healing is also realizing that my chronic illness is a story of going against my true nature–leaving my sensitivity behind–and just trying to make it in the world by being “successful.”  That was never my path, although I tried to fake it for awhile.

So, as I rest, I reclaim my sensitivity, and say “yes” to my whole self.  Just because.

 

Photo by Michael Heuser on Unsplash

Letting Energy Flow

As I keep engaging with a regular breath work practice (about 3x/week for me), I’m noticing how my thoughts are shifting.  When I first started, I had to understand everything.

Why are my fingers tingling?  Why did my hand clench up?  Why am I crying?

I had to know the answers.  My brain wanted so desperately to be in control and to create immediate meaning.

Part of learning to trust my body, and let my intuition speak, is to just trust that any sensation is just energy needing to move.  I don’t have to know why in that moment, and yet a commitment to acknowledge the sensations and emotions, and to work with them through a practice to move stuck energy is extremely helpful!

Of course, my mind still wants to know.  That doesn’t go away overnight.  The mind’s job is to think thoughts, and it surely does this!  The results of the breath work practice show up in my active life.

I’m less anxious about my health.

Why is this?  I do have more supports in place.  If I have a reaction to mold, I know what to do.  Of course, all of this helps.  And yet breath work and my work in therapy, have helped to get at the stuck trauma in my body of feeling powerless and alone.  Powerless in getting a diagnosis.  Powerless in having a doctor take me seriously.  Fearful in wondering if healing was even possible.  Fearful to dream, because I didn’t want these good things taken away.

I’m finding my voice.

I’m writing a lot more, in general.  It doesn’t take as long to put words on a page.  I know that writing for me, at this time, also means writing for other people.  So I’m writing more on my blog, and I’m also plugging away at my memoir.  Writing can be both relaxing and intimidating–and sometimes I feel this within the span of 2 minutes!  Engaging this creative process has brought deep joy.

I’m seeing change as an invitation to transformation, rather than a painful journey.

A lot has happened in the past 6 months.  A lot of unraveling.  A lot of finding the common threads throughout my life.  A lot of reading, resting, and going inward.  Yet, so traveling too, and meeting new friends.  Laughter and tears.  Fights and acceptance.  New commitments and new completions.  All a part of the journey, each showing up to teach me something new.

I know what my energy feels like.

I’ve come to understand at a much deeper level, what it feels like to be in my body as an empath.  How I need to set firmer boundaries, in some areas.  How I need to sustain myself in a helping profession when I am giving of my energy most of the day.  How dishonest it feels to take on someone’s energy, when that’s not my job.  I’m learning, and I’m growing.

I know that bits of truth can be found anywhere; and that one person, place, institution cannot hold the whole picture.

Throughout my healing journey, people, trying to be helpful, have given me advice or told me what to try next.  At some point in our lives, we all think that we “have the answer.”   It’s been beautiful to turn inward, to gain confidence, to heal and be standing on firmer ground, and to know that bits of healing are everywhere.  Healing can come from a conversation with a stranger, or watching buds bloom on the tree.  Healing can be a qigong practice or an IV.  Healing can be drinking tea or watching TV.  The important thing is to regularly ask myself, “What do I need?” and to listen to the answer.  I will need different things at different times, and so I must listen.

May you today be graced with a pause, to notice the healing in you and around you.

 

Photo by Ravi Pinisetti on Unsplash

Dads & Their Sons: A Micro Look Into Parkland, March for Our Lives, & Toxic Masculinity

I had two profoundly opposite experiences watching white dads and their white sons last week.  They both stuck with me; for in both the healthy and the unhealthy there are lessons to learn.

One father told me about how his son befriended a boy at swimming practice who is going through a rough time.  I could tell that he was touched by his son’s emotional sensitivity that tears welled up in his eyes in the middle of the library.  He didn’t apologize that he was crying.  He was proud, and he was glad that his son, learning to work through his own limitations, sees situations where others need to feel accepted and included.

Another father interrupted my lesson with his son, in order to place a brand new MacBook Pro in front of him, and said to me, “This is here, just in case he needs a little more motivation.”  His son got a huge smile on his face, and immediately said, “Can we finish our lesson early today?” to which my immediate response was, “No.”

These situations happened less than 24 hours apart and both captured my attention.  I asked myself,

“What are these boys learning from their fathers about what it means to be a man?”

“What are these boys learning about their emotional life, their friendships, their perseverance, their limitations, and their need to fail?”

“How much space is given to these boys to question, to explore, to figure out who they are?  How much space is given to them to disagree with their parents and see the world differently?”

“What are these boys learning about how to treat women, especially women in authority?”

_____________________________________________________________________

I read this article, speaking to gun laws, mental health treatment–and also the privilege of white cisgender men, and the trajectory of violence that is accepted in our culture.

I resonated deeply with this article, because although I do carry strong stances on both gun control and mental health availability and treatment–I do see white boys who are coddled and see deep ruts of entitlement.  I see a lack of resilience and perseverance in challenges; a lack of responsibility in comparison to their female peers across race.

I’m learning to name what I see even in early elementary boys; and to show up in a way that challenges them to notice and name their emotions, to try and articulate how “negative” emotions show up in the body, to give mindfulness tools to being present, even amidst unwelcome emotions or difficulty.  I encourage their natural interests and innate gifting; which often presents itself as artistic, which, depending on their background and home life, they have already internalized as “too gay.”

While I’m learning how to describe power dynamics to young white boys, I do say things like, “You don’t have to become a businessman like your dad.”  “You can give space for other people to make the rules.”  “You can embrace who you really are, even if that looks different than what your family expects.”  I teach about the power of limitation, and the beautiful lessons that our weakness give us, if we are willing to learn.  I share personal stories about how I wish I was able to ask for help confidently at a younger age.  How our goal should not be to become independent, but interdependent and in accountable relationships in which we are known and loved.

Now this doesn’t make sense yet, to some of my students.  And at the same time, students are teaching us right now.  Naomi Wadler is not letting her age limit her influence.  She sees the disparities in the world and she is saying, “Enough!”  She knows that women of color are marginalized, having to fight to heard, and more often that not being dismissed and ignored.  When this is reality, aren’t we doing a disservice to the young white cisgender boys when we continue to perpetuate their illusion–and yet if we white people are honest, one that we helped to create?

____________________________________________________________________

These two dads have very different comfort levels with failure and struggle-and are instilling different values and lessons into their sons.  I’ve watched this dynamic from afar for a year now.  Of course, neither of them are perfect; none of us are.

And yet, it takes a village, and I’m learning to engage in these relationships more effectively, with more courage and strength.  To say what needs to be said.  To push my students in love, and talk about why being able to linger with difficult emotions is so important.  To teach them about process–and not just conquering and progress.  To go against culture and teach them about waiting and delayed gratification, and that everyone doesn’t exist just to serve them.  To still relay that they are valuable, and yet need not always be the center of attention. To celebrate their successes and yet let them know that the lessons that they carry with them, are not just to climb the corporate ladder.

March has been a long month to be a a teacher and a tutor.  I come into Holy Week tired, in need of rest.  Yet as I watched the videos of Emma Gonzalez, Naomi Wadler, D’Angelo McDade and more I know that I too have my role.

We are all connected.  I continue to learn more and more about how me being white has estranged me from my ancestors, rituals and meaning.  It’s clouded the way I see the world.  White supremacy, lodged in my body is a piece of what makes me tentative and ashamed.  Yet, as I keep waking up to this reality, I must help my white students see a bigger picture of the world, connect with people who are not like them, and celebrate the beautiful difference that exists in this world.

May the truth continue to make us all free.

 

 

Photo by Jose Alonso on Unsplash

Embracing Aloneness

For Lent this year, I gave up conformity.  I didn’t really know how this would play out.  All that kept coming out of my therapy sessions was that I’ve spent my life conforming–and I was exhausted, and done.  I needed to be done to reclaim my health & my worth.

One particular moment has kept coming to my mind off and on for the last month.  I was 8 years old, and I was in my room, probably writing at my desk.  My dad comes to ask me if I wanted to run at the State Track Championship, and I said no, even though I had just won all my races at a pretty big meet.

It was my last big intuitive moment I remember as a kid.  I knew that competitions made me anxious; I didn’t really like them.  I loved running and I loved practice, but I could do without the competition.

I said no, because I knew that I wanted time.  Time to be free.  Time to be a kid. Time to play outside in the woods, barefoot.  Time to take walks and look at the stars.  Time to shoot baskets.  Time to write.  Time to jump on the trampoline. Time to run around with my dog.

I was a kid who needed spacious time.  I was a kid who needed time alone.  Just because.  Because I was worthy of that space.  Because I needed spaciousness to be my best self.  Because I always really resonated with that kind of silence and solitude.

The next year, I said yes to my dad’s request.  I decided to become a very competitive runner.  I attended the National Championships at age 9 for the long jump, and missed a National Medal by a 1/4 inch.  At age 10, I won a National Medal in the long jump down in Orlando.  These things weren’t bad in and of themselves. I made good friends.  I got to see different parts of the State and the country.  However, I did suppress the creative, intuitive part of myself.  I became overly responsible, dedicated, hard-working—all to achieve this dream of returning to the National Track Championships year after year.  For all of this, I received a lot of affirmation.

I didn’t play outside as much in the summer heat, because I had to reserve my energy for practice later that day.  I ate in particular ways and at particular times because of my practice schedule.  I was only 9 years old.

I didn’t know what was happening as a kid, but I do now.  That part of me that was shy and dream-like thrived in solitude.  I needed that precious time to imagine, to have no agenda, to just get lost in whatever I wanted to.  I liked being with others (or bossing my sister around!), but I also liked being alone.

I’m reclaiming this aloneness now.  I crave it, and I need it.  Being alone in silence gives me great refreshment & joy, and up until recently, I’ve buried that part of me.

Why?

I didn’t believe that I was worth it.  There are sneaky lies that creep up, both within myself, and the cultural structures around–that state in a myriad of ways that time for yourself is a selfish act.  That to invest in my own healing and self-care is isolationist and arrogant.

Especially as a woman.

For as a compassionate, intutive-empath, others knew that I was loyal.  That I would show up.  That I was true to my word.  That compassion though was not extended as much to myself, as I extended it to others.  And it became overbearing and exhausting.  But I didn’t know who I would be if I said no.

Because the thing is–my compassion and intuition are strong strengths of mine–and they are beautiful.  And they need to be balanced out with my strength and my boundary-setting.

I have given my own energy, way past what most people were giving in situations.  I have also taken on others’ energy as my own, for most of my life.

These last months of solitude for me have been about claiming my story, my version.  Not the version that someone else is telling.

It’s been about seeing the acts of caring for myself, as incredibly generous both towards myself and everyone around me.  See-we really are connected!

Me healing from my trauma in EMDR, is healing for everyone else that I come into contact with.

You see, I am healing for me–which of course affects everything.

I see clearly now, that to call self-care a selfish act is to believe that I am separate from everyone else when I take time for myself.  This simply isn’t true.

I may just be able to see myself and everyone else more clearly, when I ground myself in the present moment and let go.

Winter 2018 Health Update & What’s Saving My Life Right Now

I haven’t shared a “formal” update of how I’ve been doing health-wise, so I thought I would update everyone.

The winter has been incredible for me.  There have been quite a number breakthroughs in my health in ways that I can’t entirely explain.  Winter has been a season of trying new things, diving into friendships, feeling more established in my business.  There has been both hard work & joy, challenging, yet simple decisions that needed to be made.

The season of winter has accelerated my healing in the last few years, and so I’ve learned to take intentional steps to slow down, and make sure that my body is responding appropriately to nature’s signals.  That meant that the Christmas season had a much slower pace, and I just said no to lots of things.  Joining Wayfinding’s conversations and practices around a simpler holiday season were life-giving and grounding for me.

I took a 4 week Christmas break because I could!  At the end of those 4 weeks, I attended the Mystic Soul Conference, where I was encouraged to breathe in community.  I was challenged and encouraged.

I’ve been meeting with an EMDR therapist since October, and our work together has been very fruitful.  She’s helped to guide me back to my body’s knowledge–that I hadn’t lost my voice, it was just buried under heaps of trauma.

I decided not to join a yoga studio, but instead to learn Qigong at the Indy Healing Center.  Qigong is an energy practice, and the movements, have not only helped me continue to connect with my own body, but my own energy, in a very deep way.  I’m excavating my own limiting beliefs through this practice and becoming more and more aware of how my mind has been affected by illness.  I’m learning about the organ systems, and what it means to be out of balance.  This practice has been a huge part of the transformational work I’m doing right now!

I’ve been breathing!  Deeply and in healing ways.  I start my morning with a breath work practice, reminding myself of my own powerful life force, and I transition from breathing into writing for 20 minutes before I start my day. I participated in several group breath work classes this winter as well.

I’m choosing to believe that my narrative is so much more important than my health stats & numbers.  My latest food allergy test revealed that I have healed a lot of my food allergies, although my candida still remains stubborn.  I’m starting to wonder/believe/hope that I can heal my candida through energy work, rather than loads of supplements & medicines.

My qigong teacher stated as a side comment in class, “Thyroid issues start to show up when a person is no longer able to express their purpose.” That statement was meant for me.  For I’m discovering that the more I speak my truth in public (not just in my journal!), the healthier I feel.  After years of processing and grief (and generally being stuck and too much in my head), I finally connected to the Energy needed to forgive.  And I will need this to keep on forgiving, myself included.

I’m working a full-time job, and I’m doing well.  I’m learning how to conserve my energy, how to guide my students daily, and yet how to regain that energy that I gave while teaching for several hours per day.   It’s amazing.  I had no idea if full-time was even possible or what it would look like–but it’s here and it’s good.  My smile is coming back.

I found my way to a new church, St. Christopher’s Episcopal.  There is this energetic draw to the Christian church that I’m trying to find words for.  And I’m a millennial, quite aware of the issues at hand, and that more and more people are leaving the church in droves.  I think I’m asking “Why am I here?” while I keep on attending.  More questions than answers, and that’s quite alright.

What is saving my life right now?

  • My own breath
  • Forgiveness
  • Writing on the question “Who am I & how do I know?”
  • Telling the truth
  • Becoming reacquainted with my strength
  • Gluten-free BBQ chicken pizza from Jan’s Village Pizza (Westfield shout-out!)
  • Laughter about trying to make Paleo frosting that tasted great but looked awful!
  • Playing a well-loved hand-made game of go-fish dyslexia-style, with several of my students.
  • Friday night pizza ritual coming back–can you tell I’ve been missing pizza?!
  • Falling asleep watching the Olympics
  • Brunch, and coffee, and dinner with friends.
  • A London fog at Noble Coffee & Tea, to make lesson planning more bearable.
  • Qigong, particularly the “Dragon Stands Between Heaven & Earth”
  • Impact statements from the Larry Nassar case-such bravery & honesty in the quest of healing.
  • An introduction into ancestral healing at the Mystic Soul Conference

Spiritual Dimensions of Showing Up to Illness

December and January have been deeply healing months.  I knew that I needed to slow down; that I needed to show up to myself more fully.

I wanted my smile to come back.  I turned to nature, knowing that I also needed some time to hibernate, that I needed to let certain things die, without knowing where this journey would end up.  Historically, my healing accelerates in the winter, and so I intentionally have made time to invest in myself at the start of this year.

I intentionally took a 4 week Christmas break.  It was so restful & needed.  I had a session with my therapist.  I set up an individual healing session with a resident teacher at my old yoga studio.  I have been participating in a weekly breathing circle.  I’m learning Qigong.  I traveled to Chicago to attend Mystic Soul and visit with friends.  I celebrated my birthday & came out as an asexual. I took several epsom salt baths.  I loved myself well.

What has been the result of all this healing work is a lot of grief dissolving, allowing creativity to come forward.  I’ve needed time to continue to explore certain spiritual practices in order to figure out how I am going to grow my energy reserve as I continue to grow my business and work more hours.

What this looks like right now is that I’m writing a book!  I have no idea where this will lead, but right now, I’m just focused on my shitty first draft.  It’s a memoir; my journey with chronic illness and the gifts that come along the way.  I wake up every morning, do some breathwork and then dive into writing for about 25 minutes, at the beginning of my day.  It’s becoming a beautiful rhythm, and a wonderful way to start my day, and my resistance to show up to my story is lessening day by day.

Although I still live in my body day to day and am affected my by illness, I’m gaining the skill to look at my life more objectively.

I’m learning to say, “The fact that I have a chronic illness is not my fault, and yet I do have the responsibility to show up in my body and be attentive to the lessons it gives.”

What I keep coming back to is that autoimmune disease is the pattern of the body attacking itself.  There’s a scientific way to describe this, but that’s not what I’m interested in now.  What I’m interested in is that in order for my body to attack itself—I must have moved very far away from my true self.  I must have tried to conform to someone that I was never meant to be.

So I’m learning to stop throughout the day and breathe.  I’m learning to check in with myself, to feel my own energy, to understand my own essence.

At Mystic Soul, we were encouraged to sit with this question:

“Who are you and how do you know?”

In one sense, I will be answering this question for the rest of my life.  In another, I am a healer, a witness, a truth-teller, an advocate, a friend.  I am a work-in-progress–yet there are spiritual dimensions to stepping into my own narrative, telling my own story.  Ultimately showing up to myself, so that I can show up with others.

To Breathe More Deeply

There’s so much I could say about Mystic Soul, and yet I’m not ready to.

Above all, it was an experience.  A very different experience of spirituality and justice and healing, than I’d ever experienced before–and it was so good.

Maybe all I can do for now is talk about the shifts, speak to how my friends of color across the country are trying to decolonize Christianity.  There was a tangible feeling of healing in the body, for everyone involved.  We all breathed much more deeply together.

We faced each other in a circle, rather than sitting in rows.

We never sat for a full-hour lecture.  We talked to each other, engaged in spiritual practice together, got out of our seats and talked to people we didn’t know.

We told personal stories, rather than just quote highly-acclaimed authors.

We participated in healing silence and ritual in community.

We valued rhythm over time, not prioritizing order & efficiency over healing.

We engaged the reality that sometimes contemplation is quiet & sometimes it is loud.

We returned to the effects of trauma and how we all need to be in touch with our personal narratives in order to heal.

At times, the room of 400 people was silent and we all just breathed deeply together.

I don’t think any of these realities fit into the questions, “How was it?” or “How were you impacted?” or “What are you going to do now?”

I experienced wholeness in community.

I knew I was in a room filled with the leaders of contemplative spirituality for today & tomorrow.  And I want to listen and keep listening.

 

 

I Resolve…

2017 was a rough year.  Most of us can agree on that.  And yet 2017 did have white evangelicals having to make a decision if we were going to wake up or not.

What’s hard for us white people to come to grips with is that Trump, in many ways is the white, heterosexual, patriarchal, evangelical consciousness.  He reveals our sickness, our evil, our complicity.  And just patting our backs and thinking, “I didn’t vote for Trump” isn’t going to cut it.

For much of my life, I’ve been pretty ignorant.  And yet, I cannot be anymore.

There’s too many people of color hurting and dying.  There’s too many sermons about the Good Samaritan without it having any effect in the streets. And I am among the guilty.

On Wednesday, I leave for Chicago to attend the Mystic Soul Conference.  It’s a POC-centered conference bringing to life what the Christian contemplative tradition and healing justice looks like, led by those who have been silenced again and again.  Yet their voices are dynamic and strong; and I know that I will be richly blessed by them, as they ask me to follow, not to lead.  As a white person, I’ve been invited to attend to learn, and to continue to let go of the many layers of white supremacy and patriarchy that infiltrate my being.  I will definitely write more about the conference when I get back.

 

In 2018, I resolve…

  • To follow the lead of black women (make sure to watch the video)
  • To lean into difficult conversations, rather than shy away from them.
  • To support local POC-led organizations financially
  • To make steps to figure out how my business can reach those without access to high-quality dyslexia resources.
  • To call out racism, sexism, misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, religious discrimination, etc when I see it.  To confront it in myself.

I want to dig into the question more, “What do I do with my privilege?”  I’m grateful that I’m on this healing journey-and yet I’m also very aware that it’s possible because of my privilege.

And having just moved to Westfield, I’m aware that I’m grateful that living in this apartment has caused greater healing for myself.  I’m also aware that I live in a town that’s 91% white, and I live down the street from the 6th best high school in Indiana.

In 2018, I resolve to be aware, to question, to be myself in the present moment.  And out of this awareness, hopefully come a little bit closer to loving my neighbor as myself.