The stories we tell ourselves

Dec 13, 2020 | My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories, Sovereignty

I’ve been thinking about the stories I tell – those of ancient, sacred women who have been absented from our known-and-relied-upon lineage.

I think about them all the time, truth-be-told, but in the past couple of weeks, while working away on Readings and being deeply “with” them, I’ve had another thought:

The degree to which we are supported by the stories of strong and amazing women who have gone before us – the shoulders upon which we stand – is directly related to the quality of the stories we tell ourselves.

 

Said in reverse, it sounds like this:

The stories we tell ourselves, the ones we live (too-often filled with self-contempt, shame, and silence) are directly related to the absence of stories of strong and amazing women – those in our lineage – who refused all of these realities and then some.

 

Think about it…

When the stories we learn as young girls include Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, even Eve – we incorporate beliefs about ourselves because of such. They’re subtle. Subconscious even. Until they aren’t.

It’s not surprising that we struggle with a messy soup of assumed-truths that include “someday my prince/ess will come,” “someday I will awake from this sleep only to find all my dreams fulfilled,” and “its my own fault I’m living in this East of Eden reality.” It’s not surprising at all – given what even these three stories affirm and teach!

Let’s work only with Eve here for a minute…

When you were growing up, what if you learned of her as a bold risk taker? A woman who followed her desire, no matter the cost? The first woman in this recorded text to actually speak of her beliefs, her ideas, her understanding of the divine? A woman whose courageous choice enabled the furtherance of an amazing world?

There’s nothing in that telling that would ever lead you to self-contempt or shame; certainly not silence. Instead, you would have learned to honor and trust risk-taking, your own desires, your own beliefs, and your own choices.

Here’s the good news, as I see it:

If the way one woman’s story has been told (whether Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Eve, or countless others) has had the power to shape everything, then the way that same story is reimagined, redeemed, and retold has the power to do the same.

And that is good news!

The same is true for your story: those tales you’ve been telling yourself, believing about yourself, holding on to like they’re sacred writ? They can be reimagined, redeemed, and retold, as well.

 

And even more good news?

When we retell, the old stories – like Eve’s and so many more – we realize that we’re not alone…that we never have been…that we stand on the shoulders of a long and illustrious lineage of strong and amazing women who offer us all the advocacy, wisdom, and grace we desire and deserve.   

 

No surprise that this is what I do.

I believe-believe-believe in the power of these women’s ancient, sacred stories: not because of how they’ve been told in the past (interpreted through and lost in the lenses of doctrine, dogma, and of course, patriarchy), but because of how they can be told anew. Because of all they have to say, long to say, need to say! Because they have the power to change everything!

These stories – when they are known, heard, and honored – are directly related to your capacity to be known, heard, and honored. I’m certain of this. 100%.

Remember who you are

Nov 23, 2020 | My sort-of Sermons, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Writing

I was in a queer mood, thinking myself very old; but now I am a woman again – as I always am when I write.

I love this quote from Virginia Woolf.

Given that my birthday is just a week away, it takes on new and deeper meaning. By all manner of cultural definitions, I am not only thinking myself very old, I actually am! 

Let me be quick to say that there is a chasm of difference between what the culture has to say and what I know-believe-feel. That’s not to say I don’t, from time to time, hear the insipid voices within that love to conspire with the ones without. Which, again, is why I love her words.

Those voices – the ones within and without –
can be so noisy, so constant, so overwhelming,
that we forget who we are.

I WANT YOU TO REMEMBER.

I get it. It’s not all that hard to feel disjointed: wearing multiple hats, playing a myriad of roles, adapting, nurturing, creating, birthing, cleaning, working, laboring, loving. We loose our footing. We find ourselves in a “queer mood.” We forget who we actually are. 

So how are we to remember? 

Take Virginia Woolf’s words as gospel. Express all of yourself – with complete permission and unfettered freedom. Nothing less will do. 

Words.
Thoughts.
Emotions.
Ideas.
Dreams.
Desires.
Revolutions.

Uncensored.
Unedited.
Unguarded.
Impossible to quell. 

Remember?   

Oh, that’s right! Now I remember. I am whole, complete, broken, tentative, powerful, tender, amazing, wise, strong, vulnerable, grounded, undone, spontaneous, angry, passionate, beautiful, smart, funny…myself. Now I am a woman again.

My hope for you is that you come home to yourself through whatever it is that gives you complete permission and unfettered freedom to express everything. No holding back. Whether writing, journaling, screaming into your pillow, recording a voice memo that tells the whole story – from your perspective, in your words, through your lens – taking a long walk with only the birds hearing your deepest heart. 

You, when expressed, returns you to yourself, makes you most yourself, and enables you to give yourself, yet again, to your world in the most powerful and undeniable of ways. 

And that you? Well, that’s the one we long for, desire, and need to have step forward in all the glory befitting the sovereign, regal, and wise woman you already are. 

Remember her?

May it be so. 

**********

It’s true: my birthday is just a week away. And as has been true in the past, the gift-giving is from me to you. I am offering New Year Readings at a special price…because I want you to hear impossible-to-quell expression that is 100% on your behalf; filled with all the reminders you need to be YOU in the year ahead. SUBSCRIBE to get the details as soon as they’re released! 

The power of women’s stories…and yours!

Oct 26, 2020 | My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories, Sovereignty, Spirituality, Women's Wisdom

There’s an old, old story told that begins with a narcissistic, paranoid, and power-hungry man (which sounds vaguely familiar); an Egyptian Pharaoh who was worried about the slave population growing too fast. So he issued a decree that all newborn sons were to be put to death (as though it were up to him: the choices women made). And who was to carry out this ridiculous and violent rule? Yes, women. He mandated that the midwives in his employ would make sure the deaths happened – the very women whose sole purpose was to make sure life happened.   

Two of those midwives decided that their principles, their ethics, their choices mattered more than his, so they ignored his mandate – not willing to participate in genocide. They continued their work. They stood alongside women, reminded them to breathe, wiped the sweat from their brows, talked them through their pain, and placed their children – no matter the gender – into their waiting arms. 

At one point, the two of them were brought before the Pharaoh – now even more red-faced and angry than before (which also sounds vaguely familiar). “How is it that the slave population continues to grow? Did I not say that all the boys were to be killed?” Without missing a beat, the two of them explained that the Hebrew women were not like Egyptian women. “They are too quick! They give birth before we even get to their home!” 

The story ends by saying that “…the people multiplied and increased greatly.”

If I were preaching a sermon (which, admittedly, I sort of am), here’s my first point:

Women’s advocacy, friendship, and support for one another changes everything. Everything!

I suppose it’s possible, even probable, that one midwife could have stepped out of line on her own and saved a generation of humans. But the fact that she didn’t have to, that she wasn’t alone, is what makes this story so powerful. Together, the two of them let the baby boys live…which caused the Israelite nation to keep growing…which created the conditions for an entire nation’s escape from slavery to liberation. These two women did this! Their advocacy for one another. Their friendship. Their support. In the face their courage and integrity, the Pharaoh didn’t stand a chance. Not really. Not ultimately. These two women (who are rarely, if ever heard of) changed everything. 

We have the same capacity, you know. We are advocated for, befriended, and supported by the women we know and love. Even more, we are accompanied by the generations of women upon whose shoulders we stand – including the two midwives.

We are not alone! Ever.

And with this much beauty, power, and wisdom in our corner, what can’t we change? 

One more point (I’m making myself stop at only two): 

The stories of women (even when unknown, unheard, uncelebrated) are what enable the possibility of so many more yet to come. 

At about the same time of this story, another one was taking place. A baby boy was born. His mother, understandably afraid that he would be killed, put him in a basket made of reeds and let him float down the river – hoping that he would be rescued and given safety. Her hope was fulfilled when the Pharaoh’s daughter, bathing in the river, happened to see the basket and rescued the baby. Though that boy grew up in affluence and privilege, he could not ignore the ongoing mistreatment and oppression of the Hebrew people. He left his position and power behind – leading their rebellion and escape. His name was Moses. Maybe you’ve heard of him? The parting of the Red Sea. The 10 Commandments. And a few other juicy tales…

Could the midwives have possibly known how their courage would instill hope in others? Could they have possibly imagined that their actions would lead to one mother’s willingness to do whatever was required on behalf of her son’s life? Could they have known that this mother’s choice compelled compassion in yet another woman – the Pharaoh’s daughter – who took in that baby in as her own? Could they have known that their story would birth, nurture, and enable not only the story of Moses, but that of the Hebrew people’s deliverance? 

Of course not, but that’s the point. The stories of women, the ones we know and perhaps even more, the ones we don’t, are what enable the stories that are yet to be told. 

Guess what?! This includes your story. You are this powerful, this influential, this amazing. Just like the midwives. Just like Moses’ mother. Just like the Pharaoh’s daughter. Just like story after story after story of women since… Just like you. 

When we know these stories – the strength, courage, and beauty from which we descend – we begin to recognize just how powerful we are, the ways in which we shape the future of all that is yet to come, the way in which we have the capacity to change everything. 

Imagine all that you are yet to do – companioned by such a legacy of women; living your own story in ways that will champion so many more yet to come. How amazing are you? (I already know the answer.)

May it be so.

 

Take your seat at the head of the table

Sep 6, 2020 | My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories, Sovereignty

All of us know times, even seasons, in which we struggle and strain to feel like we’re on solid ground…in our minds, not to mention our lives. We toss and turn. We hear the inner fight. We know it’s not helpful, even sane. And yet we can’t seem to get ourselves out of the looping, the spiraling, the repetitive messages that do not help and worse, are not true.

I won’t assume to know what those internal messages are in your mind, but I’m highly familiar with the ones that circle and spin in my own.

In such times, we need something to grab on to. Not like a carousel ring; more like a pylon. Maybe what we really need is something that grabs on to us, that holds us tight while we finally let our breath slow and the internal storm calm. That stronghold, that safety, that holding comes from wisdom. And that wisdom comes from within.

I could tell you why we don’t turn toward this wisdom automatically, why it evades, why we often feel devoid of what we most need. But analyzing more deeply why we do the things we do isn’t the only avenue that heals. For right now, and in service to the calm that’s desired and deserved, let’s just allow it in (or perhaps remember that it already dwells within). No matter what, it longs to hold you fast so that you can hold on.

As you read what follows, maybe even for these few minutes, imagine some wise sage or crone reading your palm – more likely your heart – and offering you three truths. Each of them simply is. There’s no need to argue or dismiss. Just accept. Now, inhale. Breathe deep.

This first truth is an imperative, a directive, a call to place; a place that is yours.

TAKE YOUR SEAT AT THE HEAD OF THE TABLE. This is where you belong – even now and all the time. Assume this spot of distinction. Look at the people who surround – as they look at you. They are not surprised to see you here. They understand and unquestioningly accept your distinction, your belonging, and your role. You are honored. You are revered. As it should be. As you deserve.

And do not miss this one singular and significant point in the sentence above: sit down. Let the chair that’s only yours support you. Let the weight of your body be fully held and finally still. Exhale. You are here. We want you here. Ahead is the nourishment you most need.

Now, seated where you belong, hear this second truth.

YOUR ROLE IS SIGNIFICANT BEYOND MEASURE. Nothing is required of you to make this true. It just is. You just are. This statement intends no pressure, nor is it some marker by which you measure everything you’ve done (or not) thus far. It is simply (and always) true. You matter. You impact. You influence. And in ways beyond imagining, “beyond measure.”

What if, instead of wondering how this could be, you just believed? What if you just take this in? And what if you choose to live from and with this knowing? That’s the invitation – yours to accept – because of the third truth.

YOUR LEGACY IS CERTAIN. “Certain.” The word feels foreign, strange even. Especially now. But it’s the one you most need to hear, most need to draw on, most need to believe (yes, again). The less certain you feel, the more this deep wisdom-that-is-yours needs to be clung to tenaciously, fiercely, with every bit of grip and grit you can muster.

And what exactly IS certain when so much feels out of control – both within and without? You. Your lasting impact. Your legacy. The way in which your life lives and breathes beyond you. Done deal. Amen.

You may feel tenuous about what I’ve offered here. Uncertain, faltering, questioning, doubting. Which takes me back to where I started. We deeply, desperately need to believe what is more true, what is actually true – instead of the endless din that shouts within and without.

Let it in. Then let it hover like a fragrant offering to the ancient, endless wisdom within you. Listen with reverence and faith. And breathe deep, then deeper still. Now, push your chair back from the table. Rise up to the immeasurable power of your role. And stand in the full and glorious stature of your certain, incontrovertible legacy.

‘Seems like the way to start a new week…a Sunday sermon, of sorts.

Because I’ve been writing (again and finally). Because I need to remember, recall, and believe in what’s deeper, truer, wiser. Because I’m guessing you do, too.

[Attribution to the ancient, sacred story of Lois for my inspiration – and hopefully yours.]

Photo by Nadia Valko on Unsplash.

Retrieving the Fragments

Feb 4, 2019 | Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

Although women’s words have been censored or eliminated from much of [our] heritage, in the midst of the pain of dehumanization women have nevertheless always been there, in fidelity and struggle, in loving and caring, in outlawed  movements, in prophecy and vision. Tracking and retrieving fragments of this lost wisdom and history, all in some way touchstones of what may yet be possible, enable them to be set free as resources for transforming thought and action. ~ Elizabeth A. Johnson, She Who Is

This is probably NOT the stuff that keeps you up at night. But what if it did? What if this was the conversation we were all-and-always having – women together, women with men, even men together? What if we were consumed with the painful history of women? What if we were determined to “track and retrieve fragments of lost wisdom and history?” What if we believed that this was crucial to “transforming thought and action?” What if, indeed.

How do we take the time to talk of old stories? How do we find the threads of our own history as women? How do we somehow weave them back into our day-to-day lives?

I wish I knew.

Here’s what I do know:

If we don’t, if we forget from whence and whom we came, we are destined to repeat the same patterns.

The plight of women does not improve. The conversation does not change. The world does not transform.

To shine a spotlight on the censorship and dehumanization of women is the very thing that helps us – now, in this moment, in our day-to-day lives – understand why we think the way we do, why we often feel slightly crazy, why we struggle with ways to articulate our position or stance, why we are disconnected from our bodies, why we witness people in power deny the harm they inflict and attempt to silence the brave women (and men) who name such anyway.

It’s hard: the work of remembering.

We want to move on, to move forward, to make headway, to not look back.

I get it. I’m not all that crazy about having to remember my own story. It’s hard to look back and honestly acknowledge the places in which I’ve known harm and perpetuated it against my very self (and others). But it is only when I do so, that I experience any transformation and growth; it is only when I do so, that I can have the perspective and wisdom needed to make different choices today – not only for myself, though that is paramount, but also for my daughters, my family, my friends, my colleagues, my community.

If this is true for me, for each of us individuals, how much more so the collective – all of us together?

Mmmmm. Yes, this. All of us and always – remembering, telling, naming, honoring, acknowledging, truth-telling, “tracking and retrieving fragments” so that we can discover the “touchstones of what may yet be possible.”

May it be so.

The you you know best

Jan 28, 2019 | Hope & Encouragement, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

Who would you be if you didn’t hold back?

If all your power, compassion, love, and strength roared into any room, any conversation, any relationship? If you glided through earth and sky and sea, nothing able to hold you down, hold you under, hold you captive? If you rode upon the back of a lion, blazing across the surface of the sun? If you danced in the light of the fire with abandon; no hint of restraint? If you spoke at a nearly guttural level, bringing words, ideas, and emotions to the surface that surprised even you? If you conjured up the most powerful and potent wisdom then dispersed it into the darkest of spaces, the hardest of hearts, the saddest of souls, the hopeless, the helpless?

You would be you.

The woman who is set-loose, impossible to contain, and a carrier of the Divine. The woman you see in your dreams and get glimpses of when you’re angry, ecstatic, passionate, heartbroken. The woman who knows what to do and what to say. The woman who would eradicate all injustice with a single flick of her wrist. The woman who would heal all hurts in one huge embrace. The woman who would sing her kin into strength like a Pied Piper-ess.

The woman who, with one inhale, would gather the galaxy into her very soul and with one exhale, restore our wounded planet to wholeness once again. The woman who dances and dances and dances the world into joy and fullness and passion and truth.

Within you dwell all the women who have gone before – your direct lineage, to be sure, and that of every woman whose story was ever told and especially those that weren’t. Within you sing the voices of thousands who have lain silent for generations but who are, even now, gathering their strength, their force, their shared wisdom to cry out, to proclaim, to weep, to laugh, to transform. Within you flows royal, sacred blood that is yours to own, yours to take nourishment from, yours to transfuse into all and everything you love. You know that this is true; that this is you.

You’ve been feeling it more and more. And truth-be-told, it scares you a bit (though not all that much). This you is powerful.

Ahhh yes, you know her!

May it be so.