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A letter to myself

May 9, 2014 | Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom, Writing

Dear Me:

Exhaustion. I see it. It’s down deep, far beneath the surface. A weariness that comes from holding on to your passions, your principles, your desires, though not without cost. Clinging to what often feels like mist and shadow – evading you at every turn; dust in the wind.

The wind. I hear it. A sometimes hollow, aching wail that echoes through your soul. It catches on the jagged edges of grief and one-too many unmet expectations. The longing for a gentle breeze instead of gale-forces. Respite wanted: a spring, a well, a stream, an ocean. 

The ocean. It carries you. A mysterious and fluid world that’s compelled by the darkest moon. Waves that shuttle you to shore and leave you adrift – at least for a time; raw, exposed. Rushing back, they shock you with their salty cold. Every sandcastle washed away. Carried far, far from anything you’ve ever known. But still you float, still you journey, still you survive. Because you can see the horizon ahead – blazing like fire. 

Fire. It’s what you know best. A burning that will not cease, on-the-edge of painful, ever-present. Flames licking at the internal editors who tell you to be quieter, tamer, more predictable, less. Scorching through every hindrance, every tie that binds, every page or precept or Book that has told you what you must and must not do, must and must not say, must and must not believe. It’s a bonfire. One that has singed and suffered your kin for their inherent magic, their inherent wisdom, their inherent power. It’s no wonder you are fevered, disoriented, and uncertain whether you are hot or cold, sick or well, crazy or sane. 

Sanity. It’s what you possess. The madness you feel is the strongest evidence that you have never before been more balanced, more cogent, more aligned. Hang on. Hold tight. Don’t give in. Let the wind blow. Ride the waves. Fuel the fire. And go ahead: let everyone think you’re crazy. You can handle all of this and then some. I promise. 

Love, 

Me 

Letting Silence Speak

May 2, 2014 | Women's Voice & Power

I can feel the silence within me. It is deep, strong, dark, passionate, swirling, boiling, pulsing. A witch’s caldron. A brewing storm. A lump in my throat. And as much as it longs (and fully intends) to make its way into audible sound, spoken word, written wisdom, and lived truth, it holds back. Me, too. 

Waiting and listening, I’m nurturing, protecting, and keeping safe a growing, gestating force within. 

It will not be ignored. Undivided attention is demanded and required. Deep breaths. 

It’s no wonder my tendency has been high to avoid it, to stay away from silence, to keep myself in places of din, distraction, and dissociation. 

It has every intention of being heard, expressed, made manifest. Me, too. 

These days, I’m letting it speak: this silence. I’m staying quiet. Hibernating. Listening to its roar. Trusting that its form will yet be made known; that I will have the strength and capacity to push, to breathe, to birth. Labor and delivery ahead. Blood. Sweat. Tears. And the blessed sound of silence broken by a sacred scream. 

It’s me that’s being birthed. It’s my sacred scream. It will, at least for me, be ear-splitting, earth-rending, heart-breaking, soul-healing, and world-changing. 

Maybe for you, too. 

May it be so.

For such a time as this.

Apr 8, 2014 | Sacred Stories, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

Sometimes if not oftentimes, the circumstances in which you find yourself are the last ones you want. You look around and wonder how you got here. You look back and see a few crumbs that help make sense of your current reality, but when you look ahead in the hopes of spotting a guiding light on the horizon, there is nothing. You swirl in a messy, oft’ painful, no-matter-which-way-you-turn-it-sucks reality.

You want something to shift so dramatically that all the pain, all the frustration, all the darkness, all the fear just evaporates. And you want all of this to happen exclusive of you having to step in and make it happen. *sigh* I say “you,” but believe me, I know this all-too-well.

I feel a sense of helplessness, the lump in my throat, the tears that brim and threaten to spill. I want relief, answers, clarity. And none seems forthcoming. In this place, it is easy to feel immobilized; no action feeling better, somehow, than having to step forward. I stay stuck. I wait. I hope. I might even pray. But despite it all…

…it appears that the only person who can bring about the needed change is me. At the end of the day, the work is mine. The steps are mine to take. The decisions are mine to make. The movement is mine to compel.

I don’t like it.

Truth-be-told, the temptation is strong for me (and I’m guessing you, as well) to feel excruciatingly alone in such spaces and times, but if we listen, we’ll hear a whisper that gently and insistently reminds us that we are not.

“Hear me,” it breathes. “There have been other women who have known these binds and seemingly no-win situations. They see you. They hear you. They know you. And their stories surround, sustain, and speak – reminding you that, like them, you will survive; that you will make the right choice; that you do have the capacity to step up, step forward, stand tall. Because you are their daughter, their lineage, their kin.”

For me, there are times when these whispers are corporate: a choir of women’s stories that hover and hold. Today, as I’ve chosen to be still instead of spin, it’s a single voice: the clarion call of Esther.

She was a woman who had an entire book named after her in Scripture (one of only two who can claim that distinction). And though the well-known aspect of her story is that of being a queen, it holds far more dark realities than golden ones. An orphan, raised by her uncle. Forced to join the king’s harem when a violent roundup of all young girls was made throughout her village. Prepared for a year to provide the most exquisite of sexual favor and delight. Paraded before the king at his fancy and whim. Indeed, chosen to be the queen. Frightened by the discovery of a plot to kill an entire nation of people through genocide. Aware that to not act would cause the death of thousands and that to act would certainly cause her own.

It was in this place, backed into a corner, and completely overwhelmed by what was required of her, that her uncle spoke these words:

…if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?”

For such a time as this…

This is the whisper that Esther breathes into my confusion, reluctance, and reticence. It is her voice I hear when I keep wishing for a savior, a fix, an easy-out. And it is her face I imagine when I take a deep breath and realize that it is up to me to do what needs to be done – no matter the risk, the cost, the consequences. She is the one who assures me I am up to the task.

I would wonder if Esther’s whisper might be exactly the thing you need to hear right now, too; if maybe you find yourself in a place that feels trapped, damned-if-you-do-and-damned-if-you-don’t, and impossible to come out of without battle scars. I would wonder if maybe you need to be reminded – by her and by me – that you are not alone. And I would wonder if taking ownership in the fact that you are the lineage of a queen who dared greatly, risked profoundly, and dramatically changed the course of events, might just give you the courage you need to choose, to move, to speak, to act.

The circumstances in which you find yourself, though not preferred, are the very ones that invite you to be you. For such a time as this…

The pain you know and the fear your feel are the very emotions that declare the necessity of your perspective, your\ heart, your voice. For such a time as this…

The risks inherent and the nearly-certain costs you will bear are the very realities that compel you to rise up to your full stature, your royal identity, your core strength and step forward. For such a time as this…

And in all of this, not alone.

Esther whispers. Countless other women encircle and chant. The Sacred Feminine swirls, surrounds, and supports. And the blood that courses through your veins carries everything you need to do what must be done. You know this. You’ve got this. You are here for a reason.

Is it hard? Yes. Is it scary? Undoubtedly. Is it necessary? To be sure. Do you-and-me both continue to wish that something else, anything else could happen to shift the earth on its axis and prevent what we are called to do? Mmm hmm. But that is not to be your fate – or mine.

“…And who knows but that [we] have come to [our] royal position[s] for such a time as this?”

May it be so.

*****

Here’s a post I wrote a few days back that tells of Queen Vashti – the woman whose bold stance created the context for Esther’s story in the first place.

And if you wonder whose voice whispers on your behalf, you can order a SacredReading from me. One card. One story. One woman. Just for you.

The 3 Secrets of the Gifted Soul

Mar 31, 2014 | Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

“Since you were born gifted, you will never lead an ordinary life.”

“Eccentricity is the first sign of giftedness. You are made one-of-a-kind, with all your oddities. They are arrows pointing straight to your giftedness.”

“If you are seeking to be normal, I hope you’ll get over it. Normalcy is the enemy of giftedness.”

These are not my words – though I wish they were. They are those of Clarissa Pinkola Estes – a woman who knows just a little bit about women, about giftedness, about the power and glory that we possess…even (and especially) if we’ve forgotten.

I’ve had these three points written out and in front of me for a couple of years now. They encourage. They strengthen. And more than all else, when I really listen, I know them to be true. Deep-in-my-bones true. Cannot-be-argued-with true. A know-that-I-know-that-I-know-this true.

I’m guessing you might feel somewhat the same, yes?

To be given the freedom to be un-ordinary, eccentric, odd, and anything but normal is profound gift and grace. It calls us to be extraordinary, uncommon, and frankly, ourselves!

Consider this your permission slip. Print it out. Hand it to the principal. Turn it in to your boss. Slip it under the pillow of your lover. Repeat it to your kids. Sticky-note it to your mirror, your dashboard, your monitor. And tattoo it on your heart.

You ARE a gifted soul! 

Standing Ground & Donning Crown

Mar 24, 2014 | Sacred Stories, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power

Yes, standing your ground and donning your crown. Or…maybe choosing to remove it altogether!

Once upon a time – or maybe it was just last year – or maybe it is yet to be – there was a beautiful queen. She had power. A full staff served her. Ladies in waiting surrounded. Everything she desired and then some was at her beck and call.

As the story goes, her husband, King Xerxes, was in the midst of a 6-month party. ” For a full 180 days he displayed the vast wealth of his kingdom and the splendor and glory of his majesty.” When those days came to an end, he threw a banquet that lasted another seven days. All the people from the least to the greatest within his kingdom were there. Wine was served in goblets of gold; the king had instructed his wine stewards to serve each man whatever he wished.

Simultaneous to all this, Queen Vashti, was giving a banquet for the women; those who accompanied and served the men.

On the seventh day, when King Xerxes was in “high spirits” from wine, he commanded the seven eunuchs who served him to bring Queen Vashti into his presence – wearing her royal crown – so that he could display her beauty to the people and nobles, “for she was lovely to look at.”

When Queen Vashti received the king’s command, right there, in front of all the women who surrounded her, she refused.

As might be expected, the king was furious. He consulted with his experts: “According to the law, what must be done to Queen Vashti?” he asked.  “She has not obeyed the command of King Xerxes…” One of his advisors replied, “Queen Vashti has done wrong, not only against the king but also against all the nobles and the peoples of all the provinces of King Xerxes. For the queen’s conduct will become known to all the women, and so they will despise their husbands and potentially follow her lead… There will be no end of disrespect and discord. Therefore, if it pleases the king, let him issue a royal decree, written in the laws of Persia and Media, which cannot be repealed, that Vashti is never again to enter the presence of King Xerxes. Also let the king give her royal position to someone else who is better than she. Then when the king’s edict is proclaimed throughout all his vast realm, all the women will respect their husbands, from the least to the greatest.”

The king and his nobles were pleased with this advice, so the edict was proclaimed. Dispatches were sent to all parts of the kingdom, to each province in its own script and to each people in their own language, proclaiming that every man should be ruler over his own household, using his native tongue.

And Queen Vashti was removed from her throne, from her rule, from her position of privilege and power.

But that was hardly the end of her story…

*****

If you’ve heard this story before it might have been by way of warning: don’t refute the will of the king, men in leadership, and certainly that of your husband. I don’t presume you ascribe to this kind of blind obedience, but that doesn’t mean the residual isn’t still in the water.

In Eastern cultures, it’s a given and in many religious contexts even in the Western world, the same holds true. The message is clear: Do what you’re asked and told, or you too, will be deposed and sent packing.

To be fair, other tellings of Vashti’s story have allowed her rightful and appropriate compassion. Her husband was clearly drunk – as were all of his council. She was asked to parade before a veritable orgy; to show herself as an object-on-display.

Stunningly, it was her awareness of her own objectification that caused her to say “no.” And hardly in private memo back to the king. She willingly and boldly, even defiantly, became an object lesson on behalf of all the women who had surrounded her those past seven days; all the women who would later and undoubtedly hear her story. And though a law was passed to teach her a lesson (and any woman who might take the craziest notion to follow her lead), no woman would ever forget her: such raw courage and beauty displayed.

We would do well to remember her, as well.

*****

Imagine that Queen Vashti is sitting in your living room. A cup of coffee or tea, or maybe wine (though not in gold goblets) is poured. She sits as regally as ever. You can viscerally sense the deep, timeless wisdom present in the room; embodied within her and swirling around you.

What does she say regarding your current circumstances, the place in which you find yourself, the decisions you are being asked to make, the compromises that loom?

Given her willingness to be deposed on behalf of honoring herself, her value, her worth, what risks does she call you to take?

Hear the voice of this queen. Pay attention to the actions of this queen. Recognize and honor the heart of this queen. The more you do, the more you will realize that this voice, these actions, and this heart are yours, within you, part of you, accessible to call on, rely on, and trust.

In other words, this Queen’s blood runs in yours. Vashti’s voice speaks into your deep, timeless wisdom, calling forth the truth you already know, the choices you’re required to make, the story you are destined to live.

Vashti beckons you to step into your rightful role and stand your ground. And though this may feel daunting, you are not alone. She remains with you – ever present, powerful, brave – and offers you beyond-imagining courage to claim all that you deserve. For you are her daughter, her lineage, her kin.

*****

A Postscript:

Subsequent to Queen Vashti’s banishment, the search began for a new Queen. Esther was chosen: a young woman who ultimately saved an entire nation. Unknowingly, but no less significantly, it was Vashti’s courage that enabled Esther’s. (That tale upcoming in the next few weeks…)

Likewise, you can be certain that your story is not told or lived in isolation. When you step into your royal identity and stand your ground, you enable other women’s stories, as-yet unknown, to take the stage, step into the light, and become realized in profound, powerful, and legendary ways.

Truth-be-told, Vashti’s story is what enables yours. She stood on the shoulders of the women who came before her. And you stand on those that have preceded and followed. Generations of women who, in their own unique and particular ways, have engendered and enabled your strength, your story. This is the heritage of which you are a part; the bloodline that cannot be ignored; the crown that is yours to don – or maybe even remove; a legacy of which you are a part and one that is yours to continue – just by being you and standing your ground for the story you deserve to tell and live.

When you do, Queen Vashti smiles – her every consequence worth it all.

May it be so.

Transforming Your Story (Part 3)

Mar 17, 2014 | Spirituality, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

Transforming Your Story – The “How”

Part 3 of a series. 12 posts scattered throughout 2014 on Transforming Your Story.

Part 1 – the “what:” To transform your story means that you are awake to and aware of the book in which you find yourself and the pages you are writing.

Part 2 – the “why:” This is your story. You’ll decide where it goes from here.

And now, Part 3 – the “how.”

In order to transform your story, you need to consider how you came to tell it the way you do.

Have you ever listened to yourself tell a story about something that happened to you and wonder why you chose to tell it the way you did? Why you used humor, sarcasm, dismissal, emotion, or any other myriad of devices?

Whatever choice you made in that moment is not objective. The ways in which you experience the events of your life and the way in which you interpret, translate, and tell of them is always subjective; always influenced by the lenses that are yours. And one of those lenses is the assumptions you make.

We all make them: assumptions. We jump to conclusions, have opinions, feel our gut response. We can’t help it, really. It’s knowing what they are and where they come from that makes the difference.

Here’s a quick exercise to prove my point:

  • When you see an online personality who appears to be completely put together and undoubtedly successful, what thoughts run
    through your mind?
  • When you spot a composed, attractive, and perfectly thin mom at Starbucks with her well-behaved, well-dressed children, what do you think?
  • When someone passes you on the freeway, what is your directed response toward the other driver?
  • When you hear someone mention the word “God,” what happens inside?
  • When you watch a political debate, what thoughts formulate concerning the “opponent?”
  • When following a truck with bumper stickers that offends you, what do you already know about the people inside?

I have no agenda inherent in any of these statements; rather, I list them to show how our brains so quickly leap to what we think we know, what we think we understand, what we’ve sometimes been indoctrinated to feel. Assumptions form quickly, naturally, and make their presence known. It can be a little scary, really.

These unconscious perceptions and preconceived notions have been developed and highly-honed over time – through our own and others’ voiced experiences; through the particular circumstances and cultural realities that have influenced and shaped our lives.

If this is true as it relates to the things and people external of you, it is just as true, if not more so, within.

You have interpreted the events in your past, in your own story, in a particular way. You experience the day-to-day aspects of your life with a learned-perspective. And you even consider your future with pre-determined beliefs about what can and will happen (or not).

You are living (and telling) your story within a swirl of assumptions.

Knowing the assumptions you have and do make within your own story (the “how” of how it’s told) is one of the most profound ways to transform it – past, present, and future.

************

A personal example:

A NOTE: My theological perspective has shifted more-than-significantly since the following story occurred, but it serves in this context.

I assumed, during my excruciating years of infertility, that it was, apparently, God’s plan that I not become a mother. It was not mine to question, to doubt, to feel anger over. And this created incredible angst and nearly insurmountable levels of ambivalence for me. If I believed that God was in control of all things, then this too, had to fall under “his” purview. And if that assumption were true, then who was I to question, to rage, to exhibit pain? I needed to suck it up and accept God’s will as best for me.

And therein lied the problem: I couldn’t – at least with any degree of honesty.

Adjectives that describe those years are words like gray, bland, and flat. It’s true: I was sad when the clinic would call to tell us the latest insemination attempt hadn’t worked. And yes, I was devastated, at least momentarily, when I was reminded of my fate every 28 days. I even recall expressing tentative anger with the-God-I-thought-I-knew through my journaling, but quickly talking/writing myself out of such by listing all the ways in which I was grateful; more, the ways I clearly needed to change my attitude, my perspective, my response. I argued with myself incessantly. I fought every temptation to despair. I kept a stiff upper lip and marched onward because to stop long enough and actually experience, let alone express my anger and anguish would have undone me…or so I thought.

The assumptions I held and the beliefs they perpetuated (or maybe the beliefs I held and the assumptions they perpetuated), reeked havoc in my mind and soul. They shaped my story in marked and undeniable ways during those years. And if then, how many times before and certainly after?

Herein lies a pathway for me to look at my story anew: to wonder about where grief remains to be expressed, where true emotions have been hidden under layers of practiced behavior, where learned-belief has superseded lived-experience. And the more of these layers I uncover, the more profoundly my story – as I’ve been telling it – becomes clear to me; the more ability I have to tell and live it as I prefer – to transform it – with beliefs chosen, assumptions put aside, new lenses donned.

I can re-play that tape in a much different way today. I extend myself considerable consolation and kindness. I grieve after-the-fact. I wonder anew about where the divine was showing up all the time – but in ways I couldn’t see…yet. I look with appreciation and gratitude at the infinite strength of my heart to endure, to persevere, to hold on to hope. And I look at my two daughters with infinite amounts of awe – continually amazed by their presence in my life; miracles, both.

************

In my story – and maybe in yours – to get underneath assumptions, acknowledge them, and then gift ourselves with new and ever-deepening understanding – might be the most transformational thing we
could ever do.

My story is worth that. Your story is worth that. Even more, you are! 

May it be so.