Sophia and Quantum Physics

Jan 20, 2014 | Hope & Encouragement, Spirituality, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

I had to figure out how to find Sophia. Or make the space for her to find me. One day I came to realize that she’s been here all along. Through all my questions she continues to hold my hand. She nudges. Cajoles. Entices. Winks. ~ Karen Speerstra, Sophia: The Feminine Face of God

I have often wondered how my life might have been different if I’d known of Sophia; if god was a woman; if I had realized and felt that I was supported, surrounded, and upheld by the Feminine – in spirit, in form, and within.

I can only wonder, for this is not what I have known.

Rather than wallow in regret, I can, with gratitude and awe, recognize that whether I knew Her or not, even realized She existed, She has been here all along.

That’s the beauty of truth: aware, or not, has no influence or impact on its reality, its presence, its activity in our lives.

Consider gravity. Even if I do not understand it at the most scientific of levels (which I do not), its truth is no less present nor its reality any less felt. Or how about Quantum physics? (Let me be clear: no comprehension at all!) But I see its outworking and mysterious, mystifying reality around me – all the time and without question.

It’s the not-knowing, not needing to recognize, and not actually having to be aware that makes truth and its power and presence so beautiful, winsome, and undeniable.

And if we can know, do recognize, and are aware? Delight, gift, and grace.

Sophia (along with gravity and Quantum physics) has existed, acted, and stayed even when unacknowledged, unknown, un-understood, and unseen. And if that weren’t good news enough, then this: when all is said and done, it takes the pressure off when it comes to the sacred, the divine, and any understanding of (or even belief in) god – or not. It’s just not about us.

This means the slightest of winks or most tender of nudges is also nothing more (and certainly nothing less) than delight, gift, and yes, grace.

(You can imagine Sophia’s smile right now, can’t you?)

May it be so.

Believing in Another World

Jan 13, 2014 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Spirituality, Women's Wisdom

The debate is long, old, and exhausting.

Is there life beyond ours, in other places, on other planes or planets. Is there a heaven and a hell? Is there a Divine-reality that surrounds and supports; advocates and angels upon whom we can depend or guides who have our back? Are there forces of evil with which we battle? And is all of this “out there” or is it just through the veil? On the periphery or in my direct line of sight? Within or without?

I do not claim to have answers to these questions. What I do have, though, is belief.

I believe in another world; a world of mystery and beauty and the Sacred that exists around me, yes; but more, within me.

I believe in another world that is woven into the warp and woof of this world. Found in the faces of my daughters, the laughter (and the tears) of my friends. Experienced in moments of writing, particular words spoken, stories told and heard. Tasted in a perfect meal, strong coffee, and dry champagne. Recognized in stunning prose, brilliant thought, a clean house (and even a messy one). Felt in a tender touch, a long hug, a slow kiss. Seen in a sunrise, the majesty of Mount Rainier, the birth of a child. Heard in my heartbeat, my breath, my body.

Not Someday. Not far away. Not in the sweet-by-and-by. Not when the roll is called up yonder. Right here. Right now. Ripe for the picking.

Perhaps the point is less about “another world” and more about allowing, acknowledging, and yes, believing that the one we’re in is worth believing in.

If we only had eyes to see and ears to hear and wits to understand, we would know that…holiness, goodness, beauty is as close as breathing and is crying out to born both within ourselves and within the world…We glimpse it at those moments when we find ourselves being better than we are and wiser than we know. We catch sight of it when at some moment of crisis a strength seems to come to us that is greater than our own strength. (It’s) where we belong. It is home… ~ Frederick Buechner

May it be so.

TRUTH is a warrior

Jan 1, 2014 | Hope & Encouragement, Sovereignty, Spirituality, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

I’ve spent the last few days at a beautiful, private, and extremely quiet place. I’ve spent a lot of time looking out at the water, the mountains, and more breeds of birds than I can count. I’ve rested. I’ve read. And I’ve even written a little. I’ve spent intentional, sacred time looking back over 2013.

Consistent themes have emerged, right alongside some pretty twisty threads. I’ve focused on the themes: patterns that have powerfully, almost miraculously appeared and made themselves at home in my world and my heart. And I’ve pulled on the threads – in some cases, pretty hard; my resistance high to the unraveling necessary to weave something stronger, more beautiful, and better able to support all that lies ahead and all that I deserve and desire.

The word that has come to me, again and again, on both ends of this spectrum – themes and threads, past and future – has been TRUTH.

I have seen Her presence made manifest in powerful ways when I have been willing to speak. I have heard Her voice within me when I have been most afraid, most heartbroken, most insecure, and most alone. I have felt Her in the words and actions of my friends – women who have called me to the TRUTH they see and experience in me when I am loathe to forget.

I have had also to acknowledge that there have been many times in which She wanted to be more present. When She waited quietly (though impatiently) in the wings. When She was ignored. When I was too afraid, too heartbroken, too insecure, and feeling myself to be too alone to bear one more reminder of Her vast and magnificent presence.

Here’s what I know – and what you know, too: TRUTH will not be denied.

She comes as ruthless cure and kindest companion, as double-edged sword and heroine’s scepter, as quietest whisper and on-a-soap-box shout. And She longs to be given even more reign, more space, more permission, more room to be expressed.

Because here’s the thing: TRUTH knows that when She’s seen, spoken, and experienced everything changes.

You’ve heard it before – my very favorite-of-all-time quote:

What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open. ~ Muriel Rukeyser

Which is exactly why we don’t want to tell it (and why, TRUTH-be-told, we do). It’s exactly why we hear, with great clarity and acumen, that know-that-I-know-that-I know voice within, but hesitate to let it out. It’s exactly why, when it’s spoken to us or about us we either wince or weep, hide from or herald its coming.

Truth is a demure lady, much too ladylike to knock you on your head and drag you to her cave. She is there, but people must want her, and seek her out. ~ William F. Buckley, Jr.

TRUTH is what I want, what I seek, what I offer.

I’m inviting you to the TRUTH-telling you most need, most want, and most deeply long for; what you know and need to talk to someone else about. Yes, you and me, one-on-one, having TRUTH-filled conversations about stuff that matters.

Themes and threads. Past and present. Certainly, the future. The fears, the heartbreaks, the insecurities, and the loneliness. Most definitely the know-that-you-know-that-you-know voice within. And in all of these, the Sacred – present and accounted for when we have eyes to see, ears to hear, and a heart that desires. A safe place to tell your TRUTH and to see it transformed and transmitted into every aspect of your life. Exactly what you’ve been looking for. Take the next step.

******

As I’ve worked on this post, I’ve continued to look out at the water, the mountains, and the endlessly-passing-by birds (two hummingbirds are to my right, a small finch to my left, and I saw a blue heron an hour-or-so ago). I’ve felt my fear ebb and flow. The TRUTH? It’s daunting to state intentions, plans, goals, even dreams.

What if I can’t keep up? What if my TRUTH doesn’t resonate with yours? What if it results in more unsubscribes than subscribes?

But I’m hearing deeper, more heart-rending questions than these. What if writing my TRUTH leaves me feeling like a voice crying in the wilderness? What if telling my TRUTH results in more winnowing than gathering, more loss than gain; hard choices, tough calls, firm(er) boundaries, profound risks? What if living my TRUTH means that goodbyes are on the way – to patterns, to particular behaviors, even to people?

Other possibilities beckon and abound, as well. What if writing my TRUTH is what will create exactly the platform, the context, and even the content I most love, most long for, most live to create and share? What if telling my TRUTH invites opportunity, people, and places into my world that defy my wildest imagination? And what if living my TRUTH actually serves to draw me even closer to the Divine, to the Sacred, to a way of being that is more powerful, more breathtaking, and more wildly passionate than I’ve even and ever dared dream?

TRUTH makes no promise to be a gentle or barely-felt presence. She is a warrior, a fighter, a lover, and the fiercest of friends.

And this, it occurs to me, is who I want to be, as well.

May it be so.

Hope is . . .

Apr 9, 2013 | Hope & Encouragement

. . . the singular gift we cannot destroy in ourselves,
the argument that refutes death,
the genius that invents the future,
all we know of God.

(from Lisel Mueller’s poem, Hope)

Hope is the one thing I can never escape.
Nor would I ever want to. It saves me.

On a Wire

Apr 6, 2013 | Hope & Encouragement, Spirituality

Early in the morning I sat on the couch, my laptop awaiting the click-click-click of my brain and its compliant fingers. Steaming coffee. Vast silence. Cloudy skies. Heavy heart.

I looked out the window and saw six tiny birds sitting on a wire.

I thought about easy it is for them to sit there, perched and pretty, barely hanging on, not a care in the world.

I thought about how when they let go, they soar. How the wind buoys them up into the heavens.

I thought about how hard it is for me to sit still. How I feel like I’m barely hanging on. How I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.

I thought that were I to really-completely-totally let go, I would undoubtedly crash. How the wind feels brutal and even violent. How flying and any sense of the heavens feels distant, impossible, and as certain-foolish-hope.

Then I just felt. Lots.

And then I thought that maybe that’s why those six birds sat there: waiting for me to think thoughts and then think new ones and then feel – lots and then trust and then Just.Let.Go.

Think. Feel – lots. Trust. Just.Let.Go. And believe that to soar is the only possible result.

Got it.

And just then, in that moment, the birds flew away and the sun broke through the clouds. God’s honest truth.

There Is No Plan B

Apr 4, 2013 | Hope & Encouragement, Women's Wisdom

On days like today I need a way to make sense of (or at least hold on to) my broken heart. Perspective. Confirmation. Sense-making. Sort-of . . .

Because we are vulnerable, life hurts. We are not here to be free of pain. We are here to have our hearts broken by life. To learn to live with vulnerability and to turn pain into love. . . . There is nothing so whole as a broken heart, said Rabbi Mendel of Kotzk, [a] Hasidic sage. The world breaks our hearts wide open; and it is the openness itself that makes us whole. The open heart is the doorway, inviting the angels in, revealing that the world–even in the pit of hell–is charged with the sacred. ~ Miriam Greenspan, Healing Through the Dark Emotions

Yes, this: “. . . even in the pit of hell . . . ”

I’m taking deep (and sometimes graspy, raggedy) breaths.

On days like today, I want to shut my heart down; to create a super-power barrier to the inevitability of ever being hurt or sad or disappointed (again).

And on days like today, the idea (and reality) of continuing to open myself up, to be exposed, to risk and palpably feel heartbreak as the very path to wholeness and joy feels not only counter-intuitive, but just plain idiotic.

Still, there is no Plan B.

Without heartbreak there wouldn’t be space – and spaciousness. Shattered-wide-open creates room for more love – and love and love and love.

So, down I go. Over the edge. Making the leap (which, more truthfully, feels like being pushed off the side of a cliff). Trusting that vulnerability (and raw strength, capacity, and time-worn-hard-earned perseverance) will sustain me (along with texts from my sister, calls from friends, the glimmer of a kind face via Skype, lingering conversation over good soup and better wine, sage advice from wise women in my life, and knowing-hugs from my daughters). And hopefully, prayerfully my faith. Yes, all this will (eventually), lead me back to joy, the sacred – and love and love and love.

“There is nothing so whole as a broken heart . . . ”

I click the heels of my Ruby Slippers and try to imagine, try to believe. “There is nothing so whole as a broken heart. There is nothing so whole as a broken heart. There is nothing so whole as a broken heart.” Longing for home. Longing for hope. Longing . . .

And always, especially on days like today, longing for love – and love and love and love. There is no Plan B to this, either.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. ~ Jesus, Matthew 5:4

May it be so. And then some.

*****

I wrote this post nearly three weeks ago . . . not ready to say it out loud; the emotion too raw. It still is. But in the midst, gracious confirmation that my words matter, that my heart is whole: 

“This is precisely why grief, like love and any other foundational, deceptively simple human emotion or state of being, is the terrain of artists. And it is a writer’s even more specific job to give voice to loss in whatever ways she can, to give shape to this unspeakable, impermeable reality beneath all other realities.” ~ Emily Rapp

Yes.

And so, on a day exactly like today, I’m hitting “publish.” Because even though Easter has passed, I still believe in its message. Because comfort comes. Because grace conquers grief. Because faith endures. Because hope cannot be held back or held down or even, ultimately, withheld from a heart that’s hell-bent on surviving and healing and knowing-giving-generating-offering-receiving-being love and love and love.

Because there is no Plan B . . . gratefully.