Realizing yesterday that I had hit a tender point in my own phyche, I decided to do a little exploration.

Why would I react with skepticism to an author and book that I have every reason to enjoy, when while reading Twilight, I actually got defensive for and even justified Stephanie Meyer?  (She followed through with a dream.  She gave it a shot.  She’s a mom finding time to write.  Etc.  Etc.)

Honestly, I haven’t decided yet exactly what my reaction means or says about me.  All I can say is that I’m enjoying Eat, Pray, Love now and am truly grateful to Elizabeth Gilbert for sharing her physical and spiritual journeys with us.  So many Westerners do not have exposure to other cultures, lifestyles, and ways of being.  At the very least, I’ve realized that I can count myself lucky.  (Honestly, how many 6-year-olds sit at a table where pesto is being served and say, “I smell pizza!” or decide that for quiet time they need to sit and meditate?)

All I can conclude is that I’m jealous, so rather than be jealous, I’m going to revel in the fact that a fellow dear heart has gotten to explore not only the globe but the depths of her being.  And she shared with others, perhaps hoping to broaden their horizons, their understanding, their very potentiality.

That may very well be where I feel defensive.  Am I living into my own potentiality?  Am I living up to all that I’ve been given to be?

Our shadows can be great teachers and an asset to our lives.  They are not meant to be solely suppressed and locked away, ignored.  They can be a strength as well as a weakness, like any aspect of our character.  Now, obviously, it’s time for me to evaluate my potential and do the work that I’ve been given to do.

No one said it was easy, this blessed life.

When surrounded by the fog of uncertainty, the popular thought is to take one step at a time or “one day at a time, sweet Jesus.”  Apparently, my personal reaction is to stick to routine above all things (one must have a tidy house when feeling suppressed with chaos) and alternate between bursts of energetically-getting-things-done and sit-and-read-a-book modes.  Combine this with deciding once and for all that I must go to work and must change my eating behaviors before I will buy another item of clothing, and my life is topsy-turvy.

But is it really?

After reading Mists of Avalon (why not fully escape for 800+ pages for a little respite with the Goddess?), I finally decided to read Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert.  Again, it’s a book that I was hesitant to read after it’s widespread popularity.  And, I have to read it with an open heart because sometimes it comes across to me with the voice of a whiney New-Yorker, accompanied by the world’s smallest violin.  I realize that it’s probably jealousy.  She’s my shadow, and it’s easier not to like what she got to do than to try to manifest some of her privileges in my life.  That, and I take most of my spiritual understanding and gifts for granted.

I am enjoying it, though, especially the Italy section that describes luscious foods in short detail.  I’m on week 3 of the South Beach diet, finally able to stave off the sugar cravings and 7 lbs. lighter.  Needless to day, penne and pastries and gelato aren’t on the menu for me these days.  Most of the foods she describes I’m not sure I’d be able to handle anyway.  (Octopus?  Intestines?  Really?)  Like most Americans reading this book, it’s a good vicarious journey, akin to my affection for Under the Tuscan Sun.  Fortunately for me, she’s leaving Italy (before I head downtown and raid Scarpino’s gelato stash) and heading to India.  Maybe this will stimulate my meditation practice.

While several of Gilbert’s revelations triggered thoughts for me for further reflection, her laywoman’s interpretation of Italy’s infatuation with food intrigued me.  You’ll have to read it yourself for her words, but let it suffice here to say that when you can’t control the rampant corruption and uncertainty of the powers that be or the world around you, you can rely on beauty — beautiful food, art, and music, to name a few — in this very moment.  That makes this day worth living, worth enjoying, worth savoring.

This might explain some things.  If Americans could direct our addictive tendencies toward expression through art, dance, music, creative and delicious foods, then maybe we would be a little less suppressed, obese (if we can practice moderation!), depressed, medicated, etc. Maybe.  It’s just a thought.

As for me, I’ll appreciate the beauty around me.  I’ll try to present our healthy meals a little better and to make the kids’ meals a little healthier, too.  I’ll work at making our garden more enjoyable — flower and vegetable, poison ivy be damned!  A tidy house is beautiful to me; maybe one day it will even be clean.  I’ll keep working on my body temple, as my inspirational card suggests, and I’ll respect the beauty within that radiates outward.  I have a beautiful husband, children, friends and family.  Soon, even our budget will look beautiful as the debt dwindles and things become a little less vicarious.  May I continue to do beautiful work with and for others.

With gratitude for all the beauty that surrounds me, I realize that no matter the circumstances, Love is certain.  For isn’t it the love and appreciation for all these things that radiates the beauty after all?

So said the sweet voice of our youngest, sitting in the chair, “reading” Are You My Mother? to a doll.

The night before, a storm rolled in, and I declared electronics off.  (Lightning is as good an excuse as any, right?)  With a desire to read of my own, I also declared it family reading night.  Within a few minutes, kids ready for bed brought their books, blankets, and reading logs into the living room.  A 12-year-old with a temper got the consequence of reading aloud to her non-reading, four-year-old sister.

We sat together for an hour, reading on our own.  Granted, it wasn’t necessarily quiet.  The soon-to-be first grader could be heard reading aloud for a bit, and the oldest decided to stay in the living room with the rest of us.  Heaven forbid she go alone with her little sister to the dark bedroom while the thunder rumbled!  Childhood fears are fears nonetheless, so I let them stay without saying anything.

And it was lovely.

At the end of the hour, it was time for bed.  I wasn’t finished reading, but kids were drifting to sleep or yawning loudly.  We tucked them in and kept the house quiet.  The storm had already passed.

While washing dishes the next morning, I heard the young one “reading” to her doll, turning through the pages as knowingly as her big sister.  I smiled.

What do we call positive consequences?  Rewards.  I love how that works.

There are moments in conversation with dear ones when I know I don’t have the experience they have.  The only way to know how they feel, what they’ve been through, is to have been through a very similar situation.  (Losing one’s home does not equal losing your favorite CD.)

These days I’m looking at everything as gaining experience, diversifying my life skills.  I’m building my portfolio, so to speak.

But most importantly, I remind myself that there is so much I don’t know.  There are some experiences I hope never to have.

I give thanks for this luxurious life, knowing that my scale of luxury differs from others’.  With thanksgiving and appreciation, I go forth into the world.  All I can do is live this life with compassion.  That’s the only way I figure I can know God’s love, if such a thing can even be done.

I finally put my spiritual autobiography into coherent form and in six pages. To write about that which is intangible, I had to find a metaphor. I could have used a plant, like I’ve spoken of before, but I chose a different one this time. Ironically, it’s one where I might have a role in the creation. It’s a quilt, with a spiral design pieced together on the front. I’ve seen beautiful ones done before and wonder if I could muster up the perseverance to do one myself. I imagine I could . . . after I finish the Dr. Who scarf, that is.

Of course, the spiral is a familiar image in spiritual circles (pardon the pun). At the center is my soul, and radiating from that, in light and dark to create a sense of depth and dimension, is my journey in colors that reflect my perception. To represent the presence of Spirit, I envision using decorative yarn or ribbon weaving throughout, more visible in some times more than others but ever-present, even if only beneath the surface.

This exercise comes at a time when I truly have to assess my values. What do we truly need as a family? What is most important to us? What is the difference between the life we want to live and the life that we are living? I find myself at a familiar crossroad, one that seems to be coming more frequently these days, and these are questions that arise. I am being engaged in this creation here and now. It’s not just a quilt. This is my life, choosing how to participate in God’s will.

I don’t want my spiral to become stuck in one place, disconnected from the core of my being. With our home, our children, our family and friends, with strangers and the unknown, I want to be open. I want other people’s experience to enrich my own and add new colors to my life. I want to keep discovering, keep going beyond where I thought my understanding ended.

My image propels me forward and deeper, closer to what I believe is central to all. It is everything and nothing in particular. It is not easy, but the way is so simple.

What is your image? What best depicts the journey of Spirit in your life? Is it alive and vibrant, flowing? If not, why not? What would your life look like if you allowed unconditional love to move you? If you can, draw or sketch it. Label it. Name it. See how rich your life is and can be. Keep creating.

Peace be with you.

In my childhood bedroom, my twin bed was directly across the east-facing window.  The early morning sun would creep through the blinds, and I couldn’t help but smile — mainly on those lazy days when I didn’t have to go to school or rush off somewhere.

I am not a morning person usually.  I long to be.  I consider it a character flaw that I can sleep until 9:00, even with four kids.  I can stay up all night when duty calls, but I’ll sleep much of the next day.  I love a nice nap.  I love my sleep.

But some days, I wake up before everyone else.  I move in the still silence of early morn, write, make a cup of coffee, and abide in the freshness of the day.

That didn’t happen today, but I did make myself get out of bed before 9:00, get my shower and go outside to water the thirsty plants.  These hot ruthless days and teasing thunderstorms that don’t wet much aren’t doing the plants — or me — any favors.  I bless my day with at least a bit of productivity.  I tend to the living things (you know, the plants and flowers, cat, dog, kids, etc.) to make sure we’ll all be okay.  I get rewarded with growth, purrs, smiles over mouthfuls of homemade granola cereal, and the kiss of sunshine glistening off the green foliage.  Or was that a hint of aura I saw?

And I smile again remembering how my mom in her sleepy morning voice would come beaming into my room, “Good morning, Sunshine!”  On occasion, I get to pass along that morning delight to my daughters, to whom I’ve also passed along my character flaw.

Maybe if I focus on these morning delights, I’ll get out of bed a little earlier.  Here’s to hoping!

photo: everystockphoto.com by Randy Son of Robert; my garden roses are much more, well, not as elegant as this. 

This life is most definitely not a game.  However, I am slightly amused when listening to the kids playing the familiar game with the three-dimensional gameboard (that I’ve always loved).

“Alexander didn’t have any kids!”

“I’m an artist!”

“I make $160,000!”

The game is fun, introduces mortgages, taxes, insurance, etc.  There are elements of life in the game.  But not everything.

Where are the homeless?  Where’s the “gotta-have-two-jobs” card?  Where’s the NSF spot and can’t-spend-a-dime-till-payday spot?  Where’s the family barbecue and the birthday parties?  Where’s the comfort, sorrow, and extreme joy?  Where’s church services and dinner parties?  Where’s all the stuff that makes life LIFE?

That’s why it’s only a game.  Our lives, in contrast, are not determined with a clicking spin of the wheel.  We make choices, meet consequences, revel in surprises and learn at every bend in the road.  Fortunately, we’re not stuck in a plastic car (at least not all the time!), and there are oh-so-many paths to choose from and to discover.

Even when it seems like the chips are down, there is entirely too much in this life to radiate light and joy.  There is too much to love.  This is good to remember this summer vacation, and if I let the kids push me to the edge, maybe I’ll get the game out to remind me that my life is so much better than I think it is.

For real.

* I was looking for a stock photo of the board game to insert in this post since it’s been a while since any photos.  I found one — a perfect one.  It’s too perfect for me even to borrow.  I want you to take the time to go look at it.  Context clues tell me that it’s a child who just received a gift from an Angel Tree program or a similar goodwill charity (just saw that the title says it IS Angel Tree, at an Episcopal church neighboring our diocese).  But to me, the eyes of the child and the happy-go-lucky box contrast vividly.  The depth of my reality just increased; the compassion in my heart expanded further than I anticipated this morning.  My thanks to this child.  May gratitude fill my day, my life, and may all blessings be his.

If we can be completely honest with ourselves, we might find that living our dreams is only as far away as we let them be.  Whether it’s losing weight, starting your own business, being able to stay home with kids, publish a book, or remodel the house, I am beginning to believe the biggest stumbling block is our own self.  We throw the flags, put up the walls . . . we set the limits to our own potential.

Because isn’t it true that we all have incredible potential?  Isn’t it true that where there’s a will, there’s a way?

A fellow mother in the area lost 50 pounds in a year and five months, using determination, exercise and a modified diet.  She kissed being unhealthy goodbye and loves being ten sizes smaller.  She feels like she can fly.

My sister-in-law has jumped whole-heartedly into developing her own handmade clothing shop, Seraphim Baby.  Life throws us hard knocks sometimes, but we can choose whether we will do what it takes to survive.  Or, we can take a leap and do that which we love, bring our talents together, and see what happens.  I’m a strong believer in trying and having no regrets for giving it a shot, so long as we do our best.

For myself, I realize I’m not trying my best.  I have excuses, good ones, too.  I find that I have yet to put all my energy into one effort.  Even if my one effort includes many different tasks, I don’t feel like I’ve channeled my energy well, which might help explain the fatigue, restlessness, and going in circles.

Here’s to admitting the problem, one of the first steps in recovery, right?  Here’s to no excuses.

Here’s to jumping in with both feet.  And on these dog days of summer, that sounds pretty good.

I can hear my kids now:  “Cannonball!”

I love visualizing Spirit as water.  The rich symbolism never fails to make apparent a new way Spirit flows in and through my life and the world around me.  If only I am aware.

Here of late, there’s been a little too much water for my taste.  A mysterious leak somewhere resulted in an extravagant water bill, creeping up at first then holding steady at outrageous for a couple of months till we had to call in the professional.  A couple of little holes spewing out 600 gallons a day, average.  Plumbers are not cheap and for good reason, but they’re not always covered by insurance.  Our loss.

Another mysterious appearance of water damage in our master bath.  Definitely mold.  Not definitely covered by insurance.  We’ll probably fix it with some elbow grease, removal of sheetrock and some Kilz.  Hopefully the water will not reappear, and the mold, too.

Then there’s the flash flooding at the Albert Pike rec area in the southwest part of the state.   I don’t know these people any more than I knew the victims in Haiti.  For some reason, though, the cries in the night leave a vivid impression.  Maybe it’s the water.  Maybe it’s the vulnerable image of people surrounded by the sheer force of nature, not just in water but by the trees and hills.  Maybe it’s because that could have been my family out having a good time just getting away.  Maybe it’s the reality of the fact that no one deserves that, to watch a child or family member swept away.  The reality is that this happens often.  Helplessness is part of our suffering, isn’t it?

A friend and I decided to pick back up a book that we put down for a while.  Thinking about the title, Finding Water, I said, “The last thing I want to do right now is find more water!”

So it seems to be that there’s too much water in my life right now.  I’m definitely not in the desert; I feel like I could be swept away.  The resources around me aren’t being used the most efficiently, and while there seems to be waste, there also seems to be not enough of the right things.  We’re not a family that usually has $1,000 extra laying around (though every family should be!).

I take it as a directive to find how the water flows in my life, where Spirit is moving, and how efficiently I’m channeling this flow.  There is much here, and when given obvious opportunities, I feel like I’m channeling well.  It’s the every-moment opportunities I’m likely to miss.  It’s the things that are harder to do that I feel resistant to — like putting a book together, making pottery, sewing clothes, etc.  We all have gifts that we don’t fully tap into for risk of . . . succeeding?  being held responsible?  fear of failure? (insert your own hold-up here)?

I pray that none of us get overwhelmed by an abundance of Spirit.  May we all be so blessed, and may we all be granted the wisdom of how best to participate in the creation of our world, channeling the flow so well that it appears effortless.   I won’t always understand why things happen the way they do.  I won’t always be able to get out of my selfhood.  But I trust that my faith will help keep me afloat or at least help pull me back to the surface.

It used to be baseball and apple pie.  Today one might say it’s an iPhone (loaded with the coolest apps) and a flat screen t.v. with take-out.  But then it really depends on which cultural clique you belong to, doesn’t it?  A hipster and a gangsta won’t have the same ideals, will they?

But there’s more at play here.

It started out as a desire for something better.  A belief that anything would be better than the current state of persecution/poverty/suppression drove people to cut their losses and begin again.  A New World meant new hope.  Leave family.  Cut your losses.  Sever your roots.  Start over.  No attachments.

But if this new life doesn’t live up to one’s expectations, then maybe there’s something else because this life is too hard.  Maybe the West with its Gold will make life better.  Risk it all.  Do it or die trying.  If it looks untouched, it’s now mine.  Let’s lay tracks.  Mark it as our own.

Miracle of all miracles, some do “make it.”  Some live into their dreams and seem to have it all, from a new life, to gold, to apple pie . . . all the way to the flat screen t.v.  Yet, how many do we know who have the appearance and stuff and have peace of mind and spirit?  Do you think it was easy for them if they do “have it all”?

What happens to a plant once you sever its roots?  What happens when you take something that wasn’t yours to take?  What happens when we live our lives without regard to the consequences seven generations from now?

I struggle now with trying to understand how to balance our consumption/desire/pride/greed/fear with balance/peace/full emptiness/love.  Our amazing capacity to be connected with everyone everywhere provides opportunities unimaginable 500 years ago — even 200 years ago.  At the same time, we have capacity to destroy unimaginable numbers — not only people but ecosystems.

At the retreat I was at this past weekend, we were blessed with the presence of Joanna Seibert and Kate Moorehead.  (I highly recommend them both!)  During one of Kate’s sessions, she asked us to think of and then sketch the plant that represented our spiritual life.  I am drawn to trees, so I drew a tree.  Not just any tree.

We have a cherry tree in our backyard that has a massive root system.  From these roots other trees grow.  One of these trees we have let grow because the larger original tree will not live forever.  I used this image.

In my picture  I had a “God” tree with many roots.  Like the cherry tree, a smaller tree grew from one of the roots.  This smaller tree is me.  I have my own roots now and put forth my own branches, but there is a source from which I’ve come.  Even if that source isn’t always visible or tangible, it’s alive within me.  My roots are the gifts I receive from the source and that which feed me.  My branches are the gifts I share by being myself; the fruits I bear are the gifts I give outwardly to others.

What would it be like if the American Dreams became dreams of wholeness?  What if they weren’t based upon escape from reality, indulgence in richness, attaining that which only a few will attain?

Every one of us has a source.  Every one of us has gifts, whether they are from our innocence or our wounds or both.  But we have to care for ourselves and for those around us.  Love your neighbor as yourself. What more do we need to do?  We need to choose.  We need to choose to share that last crumb of apple pie with someone else.  We need to let the visiting team’s fan have the seat beside us.  We need to care for our land, keeping in mind of the consequences generations from now, like the back of the Seventh Generation label says (and I read when doing the dishes).

Fortunately, our roots with God are not solely tangible, and though we might cut them to seek a better way (because, of course, we know what we need/want most), the Love of God remains intact.  We are entitled.  We are entitled to Love, end therein lies a richness everyone can attain.

My American Dream?   Love and Peace.  Now, I have a capitalistic wish-list that I think would be good for my family and me and that I could probably compare to yours.  I’ll trust, though, that I have what I need to do the best I can to manifest love and peace here and now.  Thanks be to God!