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It’s all going to end badly

Jun 20, 2016 | Sacred Stories, Spirituality, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

A few weeks ago, while talking to my therapist, I mentioned my ongoing and haunting hunch that the archetype of the Prophet is mine to live into and fulfill: one who says what must be said, who speaks the truth, who proclaims what others don’t or won’t. (I’ve written before about how I actually think this archetype is
true for all women.) Here’s what he said to me:

“It’s all going to end badly!”

“And what do you-of-all-people know about the stories of the prophets, Ronna?!? Right! They get dragged through excrement and tortured with hot coals and lay naked in the streets and sometimes are even killed! So, if that’s a given, then you may as well say what the hell you have to say, because there’s no happy ending! Get on with it!”

(I love this guy!)

This may sound depressing to you – and I’ll admit, on my worst days, it sounds that way to me, too. But it also offers me profound freedom! If it’s all going to end badly anyway, then it really doesn’t matter. If all my labor and effort and toiling and work will, ultimately, be misunderstood and potentially even maligned, then why not go for it?!?

I suppose I can try to forego this ending, circumvent it somehow – or at least attempt such. I can morph myself into something or someone other than who I am in order to be more acceptable, tame, and market-savvy. I can blog and write and speak about things far less divisive and derisive. I can leave spirituality totally off the table. I can eliminate the word “God” from my vocabulary.

Yep. I could do all of this (and so could you: just change the words so they apply), but then I wouldn’t be doing what I do (nor would you). And that seems even more problematic than a less-than stellar ending.

Still too depressing? OK. Here’s some redemption.

As my therapist and I continued to talk he said,

“Seriously, Ronna. Are there any stories of prophets that don’t end badly? I don’t actually know…but you do. Tell me, p-l-e-a-s-e, if there is any other outcome!”

And here is what I said: “Actually, there is one story of a prophet that doesn’t end badly. And interestingly, it’s the story of a woman.” As soon as I spoke those words, the two of us stared at each other and then both, in our own ways, said, “Well, OK then!” and laughed.

Since that conversation I’ve done a bit of homework. There are actually 10 women in the Bible who are named as prophets and nothing bad happens to any of them! So, new approach:

It’s NOT going to end badly!

This creates just as much freedom as its negative counterpart! If no matter what I say or do – in speaking the truth and telling the truth and being committed to the truth – it is not going to result in a horrific or brutal end, then I may as well say and do what I’m here to say and do (and you, as well)!

Here’s the bottom line:

It really doesn’t matter how things are going to end – whether badly or well. What matters is that I stay the course, stay committed to that which I believe (in), stay focused on that know-that-I-know-that-I-know voice within, stay on track, and just stay, period. (You, too.)

And all the while holding this as truth: …whether by conscious choice or circumstantial demand, women inherently and instinctively are prophets. We inherently and instinctively see and know truth – deep in our bones. We don’t want to incur the risk of speaking truth and we must. We don’t want to bear the cost or harm of saying what others don’t want to hear and we can’t not. We’re caught between the proverbial rock and hard place.

Clearly, we are prophets. And we are in good company. 

The ending doesn’t matter one bit. The story we’re telling and living does.

May it be so.

Orlando: 2 words that matter

Jun 13, 2016 | Sacred Stories, Women's Voice & Power

Yesterday morning my daughter told me about the mass-shooting in Orlando. I had no words other than “I’m so sorry” and “It’s so, so sad.” Now, with more time to think about it, I DO have more words – two of them. But first, a story:

Once upon a time there was a king who reigned over 127 provinces that stretched from India to Ethiopia. He decided to have a banquet. He invited all the nobles, offcials, military officers, and princes from each province to a celebration that lasted 180 days which, as the text tells us, was a “tremendous display of the opulent wealth of his empire and the pomp and splendor of his majesty.” On the 7th day of the feast, when he was drunk with wine, he sent for his wife, the queen, commanding that she come before him, adorned with her crown, so that all of the men could “gaze on her beauty, for she was a very beautiful woman.”

Queen Vashti said NO. This, as you might imagine, set off a chain of events that had all kinds of ramifications; suffice it to say, she was deposed, kicked out of the castle, and devoid of all rights and privileges. One single word spoken that changed her entire world.

There is so much more about her that I’d love for you to know, that I’d love to tell, but this is what matters today: Queen Vashti said NO. She knew what was being asked of her was wrong. She chose fierceness over fear. She rose up and stared down every single risk, consequence, and cost. She said NO because it was the only right thing to say.

And because we are her daughters, her lineage, her kin, we must say NO, as well.

The NO that rose up in her that day is the same NO that rises up in each of us when we read of the mass-shooting in Orlando.

NO is the only acceptable response. NO is the just response. NO is what must be spoken to this kind of violence, to the sale of assault weapons, to evil and darkness, to the harm and death of human beings who are just. like. us. NO means there is nothing to discuss, nothing to argue over, nothing to think about, nothing more to consider.  NO is the only word to speak. No matter the risk, consequence, or cost. We say NO because it is the only right thing to say in the face of such tragedy, such death, such darkness.

And in the midst of our fierce and fearless NO, we also say YES.

YES to compassion. YES to human dignity. YES to generous care. YES to candle-light vigils. YES to political reform. YES to every person who needs and deserves safety. YES to sanity. YES to change. YES to each other. YES to reform. YES to endless hope. And YES to love and love and love that endures
no matter what.

A single word, spoken definitively, has the power to change the world.

 

May it be so.

A Woman’s Story

May 16, 2016 | Sacred Stories, Women's Voice & Power

There is an ancient, sacred story told of a woman who was prophetess and judge. No other story like hers exists in all of Hebrew scripture. No other woman led in such bold and blatant ways. Her very name means “fiery woman” and as anagram “she spoke.”

It would have been impossible for her not to lead as she did – given this naming, this
inherent power.

But few have heard of her.

I’ve written of her before, but here’s the gist of why she’s so worth hearing and honoring:

As the story opens in the book of Judges, Deborah is a judge, settling disputes brought to her while she sits under a palm tree upon a hill. She summons a man named Barak to be her general and take 10,000 men into battle against their enemy, Sisera. He refuses to go without her and so the two of them ride into battle  together. They destroy all the Canaanites except for Sisera, who flees from the battle and seeks refuge with a woman named Jael, who ultimately kills him (another story I’ve written of before). The text then records a song (thought sung by Deborah and Barak together) that proclaims their victory, and honors the two women who made it possible.

Imagine what it would have been like if you had grown up hearing her story? If she had been revered throughout the ages as an aspirational model for your inherent capacity and worth? It would have changed everything, yes?

I’m not the only one who has every imagined such things:

We never hear sermons pointing women to the heroic virtues of Deborah as worthy of their imitation. Nothing is said in the pulpit to rouse them from the apathy of ages, to inspire them to do and dare great things, to intellectual and spiritual achievements… ~ Elizabeth Cady Stanton

It’s not too late.

When Deborah’s story is heard and honored, women are seen (and see themselves) as holders of deep truth and divine perspective.

When Deborah’s story is heard and honored, women are listened to with acute attention.

When Deborah’s story is heard and honored, women are acknowledged for who they are: wise, discerning, and courageous.

When Deborah’s story is heard and honored our stories are heard and honored.

We are!

We need her story (and countless others) heard and honored to remind us of who we have the capacity and calling to be. We need her story (and countless others) heard and honored to remind ourselves and our world that she has not been silenced, nor will we. We need her story (and countless  others) heard and honored to remind us that like her, we are worthy to speak, worthy to lead, worthy to rise, worthy of song – worthy, period. And we need her story (and countless others) heard and honored because we need and actually want everything to change, yes?

That’s why I tell it (and countless others).

Hear her heart (and mine) on your behalf:

When life feels like a battle,
you are not alone.
I stand and fight alongside you.
Always.

My blood runs in your veins.
My power and strength is yours.
My name is bestowed on you:
Judge. Prophet. Warrior. Mother.

Unlike so many other women
I was not relegated to the shadows
or familiar with the margins.

This is not your destiny either.
Come out of the shadows.
Step into the light.
Leave the margins.
Enter the fray.
Birth. Nurture. Protect. Rise.

You are not alone.
I am Deborah and I go with you.
In battle. In life.
In power and strength together.
Always.

Hear and honor your story. It will change everything!

May it be so.

Why didn’t you just say so?

May 2, 2016 | Sacred Stories, Spirituality, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

I’ve been binge-watching The Newsroom for the past week. This morning I woke up far too early for a weekend-day. Debating about whether or not to just go ahead and get up, I remembered I had gone to sleep last night with only 10 minutes remaining in the last episode of Season 2. I reached for my iPad, propped it up on a pillow and finished. I won’t give away what happened, but in the midst, the main character told a story to the woman he loves (but can’t admit). Here’s the gist of it:

Once upon a time there was a little boy who couldn’t stop shredding paper. His parents were highly concerned so they took him to doctor after doctor trying to determine what was wrong. Sadly, nothing worked. Finally, they found a world-renowned specialist on such things, paid an astronomical sum, and took their son to him as a last hope. The doctor listened then turned to the boy and said, “You know, if you’d stop shredding paper your parents would stop dragging you to doctors.” And the boy responded, “Why didn’t you just say so?”

After I wiped the tears from my eyes (there were a few more scenes which would explain my emotional reaction), I got out of bed, brewed my tea, and sat myself down to write this post – determined to “just say so.”

*******

Once upon a time there were two midwives who worked for a king. In an attempt to control the population of his slaves (who he feared would one day become his enemies), he told the midwives to kill every boy-child they birthed. They didn’t like this idea and so, chose to do nothing of the kind. Not soon after, the king called them on the carpet, demanding to know why they had not obeyed him. They said, “The Hebrew women are much too strong and fast! They have the child before we can even get  here!” The ancient text tells us they did this because they respected and honored the  Hebrew God (of whom they would have
known little-to-nothing) more than they feared the king. And because of this, that same God blessed them with children of their own.

I can see a gazillion take-away’s from this story, but here are just four…for now:

Do what you can’t not do – even before you feel ready. You are.

Neither the voices within, nor those of “power” without have the final say. You do.

Trust that life is yours to bring forth on your own and others’ behalf, no matter the risk. It is.

Stand alongside other women – always and in all things. It matters.

*******

I spend countless hours swirling in the midst of these stories, wondering how to tell them, wondering why/if they matter, being deluged by a million fears that my readers won’t “get” their significance, their beauty, their relevance, their wisdom. And because my heart cannot let that happen, I keep swirling (or shredding paper, as the case may be), not actually telling them or letting them speak for themselves, not just speaking for myself. So today, thanks to Jeff Daniels, I thought I’d just say so.

We need these stories. We need these women. Why? Because we need muses, mentors, companions, and yes, midwives who call us forth and birth us into the lives that are ours to claim, to live, to love.

This is what these stories do. This is what these women do – over and over and over again. The more value and worth we give to any woman’s story (I just happen to know, love, and have a bit of expertise on these), the more value and worth we give to our own.

And that, it seems to me, is worth any effort, any risk, decrying any voices within or without.

The midwives, and countless others, continue to stand alongside me. I (and they) will do the same for you.

I thought I’d just say so.

Desire for Desire’s Sake

Apr 18, 2016 | Sacred Stories, Women's Voice & Power

Desire is a tricky thing.

To desire feels dangerous because we might not get what we want (and disappointment seems worse than settling).

To desire is risky because, when expressed, is too much for the people in our world (and we wouldn’t want that).

To desire reveals the dulled desires of those in our midst (and how dare we make them look?!)

To desire means that we see ourselves of worth (which has trouble written all over it).

To desire means that we can foresee a future that is better than what we have now (which breeds dissatisfaction).

To desire means that we are deserving of that which we seek and demand. (What?!?)

Some even say:

  • To desire is entitled or arrogant.
  • To desire is privileged or elitist.
  • To desire is assumptive and arrogant.
  • To desire is to be ungrateful for all that we have; to somehow be demanding of even more.

I completely disagree.

Yes, of course, there are extremes to any emotion – places we can go that move what might have been genuine and “true” to twisty and dark. But trust me, that is NOT the risk we face.

The biggest risk is not our desire itself, but that we do not desire enough!

We are far too easily pleased. And we are far too easily convinced that since our desires will never come to be anyway, we’re better off hedging our bets, playing it safe, and toning things down. Sound familiar?

Here’s the thing: the heart, when listened to and trusted, will have none of this! Nor should you.

One of the many ancient, sacred stories I so love tells of a woman’s desire. And surprise! It’s not Eve (though hers does, as well, of course)! This woman was so determined in her expression and sustenance of her own longing, that a priest who saw her praying was convinced she was drunk. This hardly stopped her. She boldly and blatantly persisted. She held on. And ultimately her desire was fulfilled – over and over again. None of this was easy for her and she did it anyway. Instead of desire’s diffculty slowing or stopping her, it (and she) continued to grow in power and force until she could not, would not be denied.

Time out: Lest you think I am saying that if you just desire enough, your every desire will be met, think again. (That would be a lovely formula, wouldn’t it?) What I am saying is this: Her desire remained intact without its fulfillment. And it is THIS to which she calls us.

It is to this that she calls you. Longing even more instead of letting go. Persevering instead of settling. Fanning desire’s ame instead of dousing it. Holding on no matter what.

Desire for desire’s sake is what matters most.

Listen to her voice (as I imagine it) on your behalf:

Oh, the beauty of your desire! The stronger and fiercer and more tightly held, heaven rejoices and earth stands still in reverential awe. Know this: the object of your desire is not as important as having and holding on to desire in the first place. Desire for
desire’s sake is what matters most. The act and art of desiring causes your body temperature to rise, your pulse to quicken, your heart to beat, your life-force to surge, your voice to swell, and your very presence to make a visceral, unmistakable and impossible-to-ignore mark on this world.

Believe me, I know all about this. I am Hannah, and YOU are my daughter, my lineage, my kin.

Believe me: I know all-too-well the temptation to tone down my desire. But that has not served me – ever. Nor does it you. Hannah’s story reminds us that perseverance makes a difference, that faith matters, that hope must endure, and that desire – whether fulfilled or not – is a force to be reckoned with, is what makes us a force to be reckoned with.

So go ahead: want more, pray more, long for more, desire more. Less is, well, just less. And that is not to be your fate. Desire more not because you’re greedy or grabby or dissatisfied, but because you are vibrant and hungry and passionate!

This is desire’s destiny: eyes open, wide awake, in living color, alive!

The Scent of a Woman

Apr 4, 2016 | Sacred Stories, Women's Voice & Power

I’m not sure how he knew to gift me with perfume, this particular perfume – this man I’d been dating only 6 months. I sprayed it onto my wrists, at the base of my throat, and breathed deep. Perfect.

Though our on-again-off-again relationship ended after 6 years, my relationship with the perfume has lingered far longer. It’s an extravagant purchase, to be sure, but impossible to ignore that it remains “mine.” Yes, perfect.

You’ve experienced this, haven’t you? Someone walks past and you feel heady, nearly intoxicated by the scent they exude. Or you are that person: people notice you are near, the particular and perfect fragrance that is yours. It’s been determined that smell summons memory with more acuity than any of our other senses; when we catch a whi of Play-Doh® or crayons or baking bread we are quickly, easily transported back to that childhood scene. Scent is powerful.

So are you.

There is a “fragrance” that is you, something distinctly present in your very soul; an extravagant you that when poured out, permeates and lingers. It’s impossible to ignore. You are. Perfect.

~~~~~~~

There is an old story told of a woman who took a bottle of very expensive perfume and poured it out in a place and way that raised eyebrows and summoned responses that were less than receptive and kind. She did it anyway. How she acted, what she did, all that she risked was extravagant. Perfectly her. And whether or not people liked her actions, whether or not they agreed with her legitimacy in their midst, whether or not they were moved by her raw and vulnerable generosity, they couldn’t not be impacted by the fragrance itself, by her very self. It and she permeated the space until none were left untouched. She was impossible to ignore – then and now; her fragrance still lingers. And in such, through such, she still speaks – to your very soul. So breathe deep. Here’s what I imagine she wants you to hear:

Do you hear the voice within that longs to be heard, seen, acknowledged? It whispers truth: You are worthy. You are valued. You are extravagant.

Do you hear the voice within that desires relationship overflowing with truth, mutuality, and passion? It speaks truth: You deserve respect. You are lovely and loved. You are extravagant.

Do you hear the voice within that calls you to generosity, to wild and unconventional behavior, to risk? It shouts truth: You are amazing and wise. You are enough. You are extravagant.

Yes, perfect: my daughter, my lineage, my kin.

And here’s what I want you to hear:

See yourself as whole, complete, and of value – no matter what and all the time.

Because you are.

Stand, eye-to-eye and toe-to-toe, to any and all (within and without) that try to convince you that you are less than beautiful, less than amazing, less than courageous, less than brilliant and wise and exponentially fantastic. Because you are.

Walk into places where angels fear to tread, head held high. Because you can. Express what is most true, most real, even most vulnerable and raw. This is your signature fragrance. You are impossible to ignore. Because you’re you!

~~~~~~~

Some days I wonder if I should choose a different perfume – now that the two of us aren’t together. But then I open the bottle yet again and spray it onto my wrists, at the base of my throat, and breathe deep. No. It’s mine. Impossible to ignore. Perfect.

Just like you.

Believe me, we’ll follow you anywhere – breathing deep and nearly intoxicated. Impossible to ignore. Perfect.