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Spiritual wisdom from Elizabeth Gilbert

Jan 10, 2008 | Hope & Encouragement, Sovereignty, Spirituality, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom, Writing

I’m about 2/3 of the way through Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. Not only do her words make me wish I could travel through Italy, India, and Indonesia; she continues to offer up occasional paragraphs that let me pause, consider, and tab some pages for later-reflection (or blog posting).

My latest tabbed page was #192:

God dwells within you as you yourself, exactly the way you are. God isn’t interested in watching you enact some performance of personality in order to comply with some crackpot notion you have about how a spiritual person looks or behaves. We all seem to get this idea that, in order to be sacred, we have to make some massive, dramatic change of character, that we have to renounce our individuality…To know God, you need only to renounce one thing – your sense of division from God. Otherwise, just stay as you were made, within your natural character.

She goes on to say that she likes to imagine herself this peaceful, ethereal, super-spiritual, and quiet woman. But in reality she is erratic, fast-moving, earthy, talkative, and even loud!

She wonders about finding God in the very person she most truly is vs. striving toward the more perfect self she’s daydreamed or convinced herself she ought to be.

Brilliant! We all ought to wonder the same.

Just stay as you were made. There’s a statement that flies in the face of how most of us live each and every day! It’s also a statement that eloquently and powerfully invites us to embrace that we are, indeed, made in the Divine’s image – just as we now are, not as we’ll one day be. It invites us to stop our striving and struggling to be perfect, more of something, anything, everything! It invites us to take inventory on who we most truly are and wonder how we might just find God dwelling right there – in us – now.

Just stay as you were made.

Oh, how I long for that to be true. It lets me breathe easier. It lets me think that perhaps I can be kinder to myself (and others, as well). It lets me consider that maybe, just maybe, God is closer than I think and that I don’t have to strive nearly so hard to know God’s presence, God’s compassion, God’s love.

Just stay as you were made.

Could it be? May it be!

For it was you who formed my inward parts;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works; that I know very well…(Psalm 139:13-14)

Just stay as you were made.

May it be so.

Song as Metaphor for a Woman’s Journey

Jan 7, 2008 | Hope & Encouragement, Spirituality, Women's Wisdom

For it was there that they asked us,
our captors, for songs,
our oppressors, for joy.
“Sing to us,” they said,
“one of Zion’s songs.”

Oh how could we sing
the song of the Lord
on alien soil? (Psalm 137:3-4)

Kathleen Norris, in her book The Cloister Walk reflects on this psalm by saying,

“These lines have a special poignancy for women: All too often, for reasons of gender, as well as poverty and race, we find that our journey from girlhood to womanhood is an exile to ‘alien soil.’”

How do we sing in the midst of an oppressive patriarchy, when we’re asked to dress pretty and act nice? We may feel that the very language we speak is an ‘oppressor’s tongue.’

How, then, do we sing?

I don’t have an answer. 

I can feel my tendency to jump ahead to a quick and easy answer, to start singing a little jingle. But like those radio commercials that get stuck in your head, my quick and easy answer to this question would be just as insipid, irritating, and shallow. Hardly a beautiful song that’s reflective of my longing for “home” or even acknowledgment that I’m far, far away.

There’s another question worth asking – perhaps as a precursor to the one Norris posits: Do we even know or remember that we’re on “alien soil?”

Probably not. What if we did? What if I did? What aspects of that journey would I need to remember, grieve, mourn, and, while traversing, pray I’m not asked to sing?

Hard to answer. Indeed, hard to sing.

How, then, do we sing? Norris anticipates the quandary and continues, “If the psalm doesn’t offer an answer, it allows us to dwell on the question.”

Maybe, at least for now, its enough to wonder about my “captors,” those things that imprison me; my “oppressors,” those things that keep me (internally and externally) from living freely, fully, richly; my “alien soil,” those places I’ve been led and have sometimes willingly gone that have taken me further and further from “home,” from who I most truly am, from who I most desire to be.

Think I’ll just hum for a bit while I sit longer with her question.

364 Days

Dec 31, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, Women's Wisdom, Writing

364 days have now passed in 2007.

I woke up early this morning for a vacation day and no alarm. I found myself lying there thinking about the past 364 days. There is much to ponder. I got up and made coffee instead.

It’s hard to spend time in a past that is painful. It’s also tempting to just look back on all that was good and choose to overlook the tough stuff. For me, at least, there’s a lot of both. I can’t, nor do I want to escape either. The irony is that the things that have been most painful have also been rife with beauty, growth, love, and life.

The risk of love is loss, and the price of loss is grief
But the pain of grief
Is only a shadow
When compared with the pain
Of never risking love.
(Hilary Stanton Zunin)

I have risked much. I have loved much. These past 364 days, pain has been rife in both.

I have never known the levels of sadness that have accompanied this year. And I have not been overwhelmed.

In the midst of circumstances and realities I was certain would drown me, I have kept afloat.

The tears I was sure would keep me from ever getting out of bed again have not been uncontrollable torrents, but gentle and kind reminders that I do feel, that I do care, that I do desire, that I do love.

The endings that I imagined as incomprehensible and even impossible have brought understanding and possibility I couldn’t have imagined. I feared death – not physical, but nearly every other sense of the word – and have known life.

Despite a large aspect of the past year’s reality and reflection: I am not alone. Neither death nor pain have conquered me.

Life returns.

Love wins.

364 days have passed. At the end of today 2008 will begin. I am grateful for both.

Time to pour another cup of coffee…

Happy 47th Birthday to Me!

Nov 30, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, Mothers and Daughters, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom, Writing

After writing posts for both of my daughters on their birthdays, I thought it only fitting that I do the same for myself!

Happy Birthday to me!

This has been a full, rich, painful, beautiful, long, amazing, surprising, miraculous, arduous, labor-filled year. I have known many tears, much frustration, and deep anguish. I have also known more laughter and life than ever before. I have been struck again and again by how amazing it is that both can coexist and frankly, be enhanced when juxtaposed to one another.

I’ve had many conversations with Emma and Abby this past year about what it means to let more than one thing be true at the same time: disappointment and hope, sadness and joy, frustration and desire. And this has been a year of that being enfleshed within me – on their behalf, certainly, but powerfully, on my own.

I have found much strength within me these past twelve months; strength that has enabled me to make difficult decisions and then live with the ramifications of such, strength that has allowed me to survive – and even thrive – in places I’d feared (and avoided) for many years. And that strength has, amazingly, not made me tougher, harder, or colder; rather, its enabled me to feel more tender, compassionate, and “present” to my own heart and the heart’s of others. I’m grateful.

Last year at this time I could have never been convinced of or prepared for the twelve months that were about to commence. Note to self: be glad you don’t know the future! Out of curiosity, I went back to the past – to my blog posts from about a year ago to see what I was writing. I came across some October, 2006 reflections on the women of Proverbs 1 and 31 that were amazingly prophetic for the year that was to come:

These women – metaphorical and real – are who I want to be: wise, listening to and living with those on the margins, gaining strength through perseverance and struggle, dignified and fearless, forever laughing with the abandon of a child. God knows and loves this woman. I am becoming this woman.

Indeed, I am. I feel more wise, more able to listen to those who are unseen, forgotten, or harmed, strengthened through perseverance and certainly struggle, more dignified, more fearless, and often laughing both with the abandon of a child – and with my own children.

I am this woman. Amazing.

That’s a year worth celebrating in the midst of acknowledging and grieving its losses and pains.

Another year older. Another year of being the grateful recipient of consistent, unpredictable, mysterious, and precious life.

Making Hard Choices

Oct 15, 2007 | Sacred Stories, Women's Wisdom

The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live. ~ Flora Whittemore

A lovely sentiment, but far more palpable – and even painful – when we have to live with those decisions.

I had to make a hard decision this weekend. If it only impacted me, it would be easier to bear; but it didn’t. I wasn’t just deciding the life I live, as Flora Whittemore espouses. I was deciding, at least for a time, the lives that others would live, as well. That’s a lot of pressure; pressure I wish wasn’t mine. Still, hard choices sometimes have to be made. Consequences ensue. Disappointment and frustration are inevitable.

How do I hold on to myself in the midst of making such a choice? How do I continue walking forward when my deepest desire and instinct is to turn and run for cover? I’m not sure, but at least for tonight, I’m slowed in my impulse to escape by returning to the story of the woman who anointed Jesus’ feet. She chose to do something that was totally against the grain and which incurred her even more contempt than she already knew. Somehow she trusted her internal wisdom enough that she could break through all that would have kept her playing things safe. She acted. She moved. She let herself be seen.

And…my hunch is that her life didn’t get all that better because of it – at least externally. She made a hard choice, knowing there would be a price to pay and consequences that would ensue. She’s a beautiful, strong, and amazing woman.

I wish I could say that my hard choice fell in the same realm as her self-sacrificing and beautifully worshipful one. Mine could hardly be said to resemble hers, at all. Still, she encourages me. And what’s more, the love she experiences because of her choice comforts me.

Maybe that’s the key: no matter the choices we make or their ramifications, we are still loved – deeply, unswervingly, unreservedly – by the Divine. I think I can live with my hard choice knowing such.

Choices come and go. Some are better than others. Some are harder than others. But being loved no matter what? That defines and decides my life in ways that offer me hope, encouragement, and rest.

I needed to make a hard choice. Even more, I believe I needed the hard choice to move me toward remembering, experiencing, and encountering the Divine who loves me before, in the midst, and after. That’s good news at the end of a long, hard day.

I’m Tired

Oct 1, 2007 | Mothers and Daughters, Women's Wisdom, Writing

There’s much to be done these days with work, children, life. All press for my prioritization. All require much. And, truth be told, all offer much.

Still, it’s hard to fit everything in. Something has to give and I can feel my resistance to doing the hard work of deciding what that will be. Even more, how that will be.

Obviously, my amazing and wonderful daughters must take first place. I cannot consider letting time or care go in this realm just so that I can have more time to get work done or have more time to write, read, or even watch a good movie!

That leaves work and life. Work is a huge category these days with so many projects weighing me down – all of which are important, necessary, urgent. And, honestly, I don’t resent or resist any of them. I want to get all of them done. I just don’t know that I can. Unless, of course, I let life go.

Life – those activities, spaces, and times that continue to offer me rest, laughter, sleep, relationships, breathing space, reflection, thought, writing, reading, and yes, watching movies. I can’t really let those things go because if I do, I don’t have the energy or desire to do my work or be the mom I want to be to my girls.

No answers forthcoming. Indeed, I’m tired.

So tonight, after the girls are tucked into bed, “life” and sleep win out over all the other things that could fill another hour or two of my night. I’ll have to trust that the one or two more hours of work or anything else will look better and get done more efficiently if I can actually stay awake tomorrow!

One might wonder how I’ve found time to type this post tonight. Honestly, these 10 minutes have been life-giving and well worth any expense. Besides, the girls are busy living their life – watching a good movie.