Women's Wisdom Archives - Page 7 of 26

About Being Alone

Feb 25, 2022 | Women's Wisdom

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about being alone: the difference between actually being alone and feeling that way. .

My daughters live in two different states. I work as a solopreneur/soulpreneur, exclusively from home. I am single. There are moments in which the independence and isolation get the best of me, when I truly acknowledge how much time I spend with just me. And in such places, and sometimes, I feel sad.

It hardly takes being alone to feel alone.

I felt alone for long seasons in my marriage, in so many aspects of single-parenting, when working in corporate jobs, even pre-Covid in social contexts, gatherings, and groups.

When I do feel this way, there are two things I have learned to do:

Tell myself the truth.
Remember that I am never truly alone.

I am good about pushing hard(er) feelings down, marching forward, staying focused on to-do’s, keeping a positive attitude, persevering. In so many ways, I’m grateful that this is the case. And…there’s a dark side. It is very easy for me to not give myself the permission or space to actually feel. It’s WAY easier to just keep busy, to keep all the plates spinning, to distract myself with pretty much everything else so that I don’t have to feel much of anything. Because, let’s be honest: to feel is hard!

It took me a long time (years and years and years) to learn that my whole world would not fall if I let myself feel. But sometimes I still forget. Until I don’t. Until I feel the lump in my throat that will not subside and the tears that threaten to spill. Until I let go. Until I sit with all the uncomfortableness — all that feels unsettled and unknown and confusing. Until I can finally release and rest in all that just is — without needing to fix it or patch it up or make it better. It’s hard. And it’s generous. It’s grace, really.

There’s a second reason I sometimes feel alone — and why most of us do as women: we’ve been disconnected from the women upon whose shoulders we stand. Maybe disconnected is the wrong word. Maybe more accurate is that we’ve never been connected to them in the first place. That breaks my heart (and infuriates me).

I am reminded of a passage in Clarissa Pinkola Estes’ book, Women Who Run With the Wolves:

I once dreamt I was telling stories and felt someone patting my foot in encouragement. I looked down and saw that I was standing on the shoulders of an old woman who was steadying my ankles and smiling up at me.

I said to her, ‘No, no, come stand on my shoulders for you are old and I am young.’

‘No, no,’ she insisted, ‘this is the way it is supposed to be.’

I saw that she stood on the shoulders of a woman far older than she, who stood on the shoulders of a woman even older, who stood on the shoulders of a woman in robes, who stood on the shoulders of another soul, who stood on the shoulders . . .

The absence of this awareness, this truth, this endless and accompanying presence, is but one of the insipid and invisible impacts of patriarchy: keeping us isolated and alone, keeping us disconnected from ourselves, keeping us from acknowledging and allowing our own actual emotions, keeping us from connection with and appreciation of, even reliance on each other.

Sisterhood is important because we are all we have to stand on. We have to stand near and by each other, pray for one another, and share the joys and the difficulties that women face in the world today. If we don’t talk about it among ourselves, then we are made silent by the patriarchy, and that serves us no purpose. ~ Ntozake Shange

Because I’m not willing to be made silent (or made to feel isolated or overly emotional or too much or not enough), I intentionally and gratefully reconnect myself to the stories and the women who remind me of what is MOST true: that I am not alone.

But far beyond just me, I believe, deep in my bones, that these stories and women are for you: when you feel isolated or overly emotional or too much or not enough; when you long for wisdom and guidance and direction and focus; when you need permission to let yourself feel; when you desperately need to be reminded that you are part of a bigger, larger, and longer story that is powerful and amazing and proud; and yes, especially when/if you feel alone. Because you aren’t. Ever. Not really.

These are my endless and fervent hopes on your behalf:

Tell yourself the truth about how you feel (especially when “alone” is the word you’d use to describe such); believe that you are worthy of the deepest and most honest emotions — always.
Remember and believe that you are not alone. Because you aren’t. Ever. Not really.

Easier said than done, I know; but no less valuable, significant, or true.

*****

It is my privilege to remind you of just how powerful (and allowed) your every emotion is AND that you’re not alone. These truths and more are what I write about in my free Monday Letters. Subscribe. And these ARE the conversations that matter, that I hold and offer in my one-on-work with women. Learn more.

5 Ways to Have the Life you Desire

Feb 18, 2022 | My sort-of Sermons, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

Here’s the quick version of this post:

Hold fast to what you most desire.
Name what you want.
Acknowledge what’s bound to get in the way.
Take actual steps over and through the obstacles.
Don’t do any of this alone.

And here’s the longer one:

1. Hold fast to what you most desire.

Without a clear sense of your truest, deepest desires you feel uncertain, unclear, and often unmotivated to plant a stake in the ground — fearful that you won’t get what you want anyway, even if you know what that is.

Desire is not about its fulfillment. At least not completely. It is about risk and faith and trust and belief. And without these? Well, you wander, or worse, you feel like your feet — and life — are encased in cement. But when you DO know what you desire, everything is possible! Desire is what creates and enables possibility in and of itself. (And it is the stuff of the very best stories ever!)

A Practical To-Do: Let yourself dream! What do you most want? What would you envision for yourself if you could? No editing. No censoring. No doubts. No fears. Everything and anything allowed. Do NOT get waylaid by the endlessly long list of reasons why you can’t have any of this. Let yourself be hungry for all of it. Let yourself want! Desire. Desire. Desire!

2. Name what you want.

There is no end to the thoughts and emotions that swirl within me. But unchecked, unarticulated, and unnamed they can, at times, become so overwhelming that I can’t see my way through to anything practical, to next steps, to any form of clarity. I feel overwhelmed and stuck.

Thankfully, these moments, even seasons, are increasingly rare. I have learned to move the words out of me. I intentionally make them tangible, seen, and heard. I write everything down and read it back to myself. I talk to others (in discerning, appropriate, and safe contexts). I literally see and hear my desire, my longed-for story, instead of *just* being aware of it within. And it’s the same that I’m encouraging for you.

Choose to let your words, thoughts, and emotions be named, heard, and seen by both self and others.

A Practical To-Do: Using #1, above, as prompt, ask yourself: what do I really-and-truly desire? Then close your eyes (yes, really) and type. No spellcheck. No worries. Just go! Some aspect of the inner critic gets silenced; when you open your eyes back up and read what you’ve written, you will see and hear with more acuity than before. Truth is spoken. Themes are revealed. And clarity emerges. Not all at once. Not forever and ever, amen. But in ways that are new, revelatory, and important. You’ll discover insights that can’t help but compel your needed next steps and the story you long to live!

Another Practical To-Do: Talk! To a therapist, coach, spiritual director, and/or trusted friend. It’s invaluable to hear yourself out loud. (An interim option is to record yourself on a voice memo. I’ve done this many times over the years and am always astounded by the words and unnamed truths I hear myself speak.)

3. Acknowledge what’s bound to get in the way.

When I start thinking about what I desire, I VERY quickly move to inventorying all the reasons why this isn’t going to work, why it’s going to be too hard, how I’m going to hurt others, how I’ll be misunderstood, and/or all the tension I’ll create . . . It is ONLY when I take the time and effort to articulate and name (yes, again) every bit of this that I can ever hope to move forward.

The story and life you desire and deserve automatically comes with risks, costs, and consequences. That’s the evidence that it’s real, that it’s powerful, that it’s worth pursuing!

A Practical To-Do: List out all the risks, costs, and consequences of your hoped-for future. What are you most afraid will happen? If those things do take place, then what might happen? And what are the risks, costs, and consequences if you DON’T pursue what matters most to you? This is not about doom and gloom; it is an honest acknowledgement of just how hard it is to move forward, how exhausting it is to lean into the wind, how challenging (and critical) it is to live what you desire and deserve. Now, of what you’ve named, what are you fully capable of handling when you already know it’s coming? What difference does it make when you’re not surprised by others’ reactions? How might paying even more attention to the costs of not living into what you most want, be the motivation you need to rise up and persevere?

4. Take actual steps over and through the obstacles.

I went through a long season in which there was a HUGE gap between what I felt on the inside and expressed on the outside. I made a deal with myself: “Just once today, you must tell the truth.” Sometimes, shockingly, nothing I’d feared actually happened. Other times I could see the hairline cracks extend under the facade I’d painstakingly sustained. Over time I got stronger, bolder, clearer. And eventually, bit by bit, the gap closed. I then made new decisions, took more steps, and watched myself begin to live in ways that felt aligned and sovereign. It was hardly dramatic and at times, almost imperceptible. But it was no less real.

Too much of the time we look at the chasm between where we are and where we want to be, then instantly feel certain that we do not have the capacity to make those kinds of leaps and dramatic changes. Understandably! Which is why you’re far better served by making tiny changes, experimenting, slightly tweaking your way of handling particular situations. That’s enough. It’s significant! And over time, those single, simple, small steps WILL add up to forward movement and even more momentum. I promise!

A Practical To-Do: Determine the very smallest step you could possibly take and take it! A “no” instead of a resentful “yes.” A beginning boundary enforced. Speaking (just once/day) instead of staying silent. Then take the next step and the next one after that. You’ve totally got this! I can hardly wait to see where those one-foot-in-front-of-the-other actions carry you in the the year ahead!

5. Don’t do any of this alone.

These steps, this effort, this life’s work? It’s a lot.

Perhaps easier said than done, but my strongest encouragement (and hope) on your behalf is that you choose to NOT be alone in any of it! I know how hard it is to navigate day-in, day-out life, let alone your stories — past, present, and future — without the consistency, kindness, safety, and wisdom, and presence of another. You don’t have to do it alone. Truly.

When we are not separated from self or each other, when we gather, when we vulnerably-and-bravely tell our truths, when we demand-and-live the story we desire and deserve, the earth shifts on its axis and everything changes.

If I were to create yet another list of next steps, it would look like this:

Find, ask for, and accept the support you need.
Tell and live stories that are impossible to ignore, empowered, sovereign, rich in possibility, and drenched in hope!
Shift the earth on its axis.
Change everything!

There’s absolutely nothing I want more for you, for me, for all of us — together.

May it be so.

*****

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The Voices in Your Head

Feb 4, 2022 | My sort-of Sermons, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

As women, there are times in which we are nearly overwhelmed by the voices in our head, the subtle and less-so messaging that tells us we’re not enough or too much, that’s we’d be better served to keep our thoughts to ourself, that to demonstrate agency and will (especially when it’s counter-cultural, counter-family, counter-job, counter-relationship) is completely unacceptable.

These, among so many others, are the stories we tell ourselves.

One of the biggest reasons these internal stories exist (and haunt) is because of the stories we’ve been told — the way they’ve been told.

When we grow up hearing the stories of Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, even Eve told in particular ways, we subconsciously incorporate particular beliefs. These are then reinforced by our culture, our families, our religion, our social systems, our politics, and now, social media. Seemingly innocent stories, told in specific ways, morph from external tellings into internal beliefs:

Someday my prince/ess will come: my life will be complete when I’m rescued, when I’m finally seen, when I’m removed from this impossible situation. And “magic” is definitely required to make anything happen — it’s not really up to me.
I will eventually awake from this sleep (less-than stellar relationship, unfulfilling job, etc.) to find all my dreams fulfilled: my reality is only temporary. If I just keep waiting (and sleeping), everything will work out as I hope. And yes, again, “magic” is required, or at least the perfect kiss, to finally live the life I long for.
It’s my own fault I’m living East of Eden: if only I hadn’t pursued my desire, trusted my own wisdom, listened to my intuition. I should have known better. I’ve no one to blame but myself for the hell I’m now in.

Blech.

Let’s work only with Eve for a minute…

What stories would you be telling yourself, even now and even still, if you had 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 honor and trust your desires, your beliefs, and your choices. You would boldly speak up, follow your wisdom, and change the entire world in the process! That’s a much different story to be telling yourself — and living.

Because all of this makes me completely enraged and endlessly impassioned, it IS what I do: blow the dust off of these ancient, sacred (and excruciatingly-told) stories of women like Eve and reimagine, retell, and redeem them so that we can see ourselves anew, decry the internal voices that tell us anything other, and most importantly of all, be reminded that we are not alone and never have been. We are part of a long and illustrious lineage of strong and amazing women who offer us all the wisdom, advocacy, and grace we desire and deserve. I cannot be convinced otherwise.

Given the power inherent in the way stories of women have been told FOR ILL (whether Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Eve, or countless others), the opposite is just as true: stories of women, when reimagined, retold, and redeemed, have even more power FOR GOOD!

The stories we tell ourselves (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 matrilineal line! We’ve just not heard them told in this way; told, period! It’s time, yes?

Said in reverse, 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 — determines the quality of the stories we tell ourselves. It’s past-time for that, as well, yes?

Yes.

May it be so.

*****

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Why I’ve Given Up on Prayer

Dec 17, 2021 | Mothers and Daughters, Spirituality, Women's Wisdom

I grew up in a very strong faith tradition, so have always had a clear understanding of prayer: its purpose, its subject, its object, its how-to, its requirement, and my obligation.

But in leaving the church, I left prayer, as well.

I am skeptical about considering it, about offering it, about stepping into its once-felt comfort, given how closely it was linked to the doctrine of my (then) religion. I’ve rarely even allowed it as option, for fear of it hearkening me back to all that I’ve worked so hard to release and reframe.

Still, its absence is felt.

*****

A number of years ago, when my daughters were still teenagers, my youngest stepped into a season of struggle (to put it mildly) that stretched me beyond capacity, hope, or reason. There were moments in which I couldn’t decide if I should call 911, her therapist, my therapist, or just hide under the covers and let her do the same. At its worst, I wrestled with what felt like the real possibility of losing her altogether. I won’t keep you in suspense: today she is an amazing young woman — aware, wise, hardly naive, clear about what it means to struggle, able to offer levels of empathy and compassion to others ; she continues to astound me. But before this “ending,” there was the beginning night of awareness of just how bad things were. No sleep. Only tears. And a memory that feels like it was yesterday:

I sat on the edge of my bed and sobbed, more deeply aware than ever before, just how alone I was as a single mom, more afraid than I’d ever felt, and more-than completely unequipped for what was happening in the mind and heart of my precious girl. Through tears and snot and not nearly enough Kleenex, I remember wishing that I still believed in prayer. It would offer a panacea I no longer had at my disposal. How convenient and pleasant: to hand all this off somehow, to feel like in surrendering, in turning it over to God, that surely all things would work together for good.

Not believing this anymore left me feeling even more alone and more afraid. I wanted to pray, but knew that to do so would be little other than my desperate wish and a frantic grasping at anything that might ease my pain but do nothing to lessen hers. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t.

In the more than 10 years that have passed since that night, I have thought back on it many times. I have sussed out my cynicism, my anger, and certainly my angst. But still, my resistance to prayer has remained. It was a crossroads, to be sure: deeply longing for solace, but with seemingly nowhere to turn except within; to blow on some barely-lit fire inside me that somehow-but-barely enabled me to get up in the morning, fix her breakfast, send her to school, and hope and hope and hope.

I realize that all of this sounds dark and dreary. And at the time, it was. Now I remember it with endless gratitude. Yes, because she made it through that particular season of crisis. But also because I did: not broken or desolate, but more aware than ever before of what it meant to walk through “the valley of the shadow of death,” completely present to everything I felt.

In not praying, in not seeking some kind of divine respite or answer or fix, I discovered something else entirely: desire.

Not some whimsical temptation or luring sin. Not that kind of desire: tepid, temporary, lite. No.

This desire was blazing, intense, undaunted, and undying. It was (and is) a full and unrestrained expression of everything within me. And a far cry from anything I’d ever known in prayer.

The Upanishads capture this, at least in part:

“You are what your deepest desire is. As your desire is, so is your intention. As your intention is, so is your will. As your will is, so is your deed. As your deed is, so is your destiny.”

It seems to me that this understanding of desire, and its expression, is everything. It is also far more sacred and more spiritual than anything I’d been taught to recite, intercede for, enact, or even believe.

Now, in lieu of prayer, I choose desire. Who it’s being articulated to is not important to me; rather, that I hold nothing back, that something wild and untamed and passionate dwells within and comes forth, that this — above all else — is the sacred, is the spiritual. Nothing less will do.

Desire takes courage. And faith. There is no promise of an outcome we long for. No guarantee. Just sheer determination, firm belief, and an endless acknowledgement of what thrums within us in the deepest and most persistent of ways. It persists. It perseveres. It burns.

I know: one could apply every bit of this to prayer. But I see it differently, distinctly. Unlike prayer — where words, emotions, longings, and hopes are being offered to a Divine listener — desire is an expression and end in and of itself. It is both object and subject. It is raw and visceral and embodied. It is not something “done” and then forgotten, uttered and then released. It stays. It simmers. It blazes. Yes, it burns. And for me, that is a very long way from what I learned of prayer, experienced in prayer, or was ever told was allowed.

Not surprisingly.

Most of us are profoundly ambivalent about desire — others’ and our own. It’s understandable, really, that we prefer the safer, more acceptable term of “prayer.” We have been taught (over and over and over again) that our desire is dangerous, that pursuing it only upsets the apple cart, that it cannot be trusted, that we’ll definitely get burned (as will others), that we’re better off tamping it down. *sigh*

In her book, Untamed, Glennon Doyle tells of hearing the creation story from her 5th grade teacher at church:

“…Eve’s original sin is inside of all of us. That sin is…wanting more instead of being grateful for what we have, and doing what we want to do instead of what we should do.”

Though we’ve been told that money is the root of all evil, we are far more prone to believe it is desire. And beginning with Eve, that is what has been reinforced within us (over and over and over again). Don’t want more. Don’t do what you want; do what you should. And be grateful about all of it. In fact, offer prayers of gratitude, offer prayers of repentance for wanting at all, offer prayers of supplication that you will only do what you should.

If our desire is bad or wrong, what then is prayer?

A bit later in her book, Doyle says this:

“If women [and men] trusted and claimed their desires, the world as we know it would crumble. Perhaps that is precisely what needs to happen…Maybe Eve was never meant to be our warning. Maybe she was meant to be our model. Own your wanting. Eat the apple. Let it burn.”

Trust your desire; claim it. Follow Eve’s lead. Own your wanting, eat the apple, let it burn. Compared to: Don’t want more. Don’t do what you want; do what you should. And be grateful about all of it. My desire among these two choices is clear.

*****

That night when I sat on the edge of my bed, wracked with worry and at the end of my rope, I couldn’t yet see that everything I was feeling was my desire. I couldn’t yet acknowledge that it was a flame, a sacred roar, a holy bonfire, a veritable volcano on my daughter’s behalf. I couldn’t yet appreciate that there was no easing it, no peace that could comfort, no verses to quote, no promises to lean on that could begin to lessen its presence, its power, its blinding force. I couldn’t have yet known that it’s strength and presence would carry me through all of this and then some, undoubtedly more to come.

I’ve often wondered if I’d have done anything differently, if I’d have been any different, had I known of and allowed my desire as catalyst, as sacred expression, as everything.

What questions might I have asked my daughter about her desire? What permission and space might I have created for her to rage and scream and articulate everything (instead of it only feeling expressible in self-harming ways)? What conversations might we have had about injustice and grief and God that were avoided because no “acceptable” answers sufficed? What world might we have demanded together — where our sacred expression, our fiery hearts, and our deepest hungers were honored?

I cannot know, of course. But now, unlike then, I am confident that acknowledging my desire, allowing it, and certainly feeling and expressing it — nothing withheld, no restraint, and yes, wild, untamed, and passionate — is as close to prayer as I can imagine or hope. Not to God, but into the world. Not released, but held tight, compact, and with infinite force. Not a cup of cool water, but match to flame. And though all of this might sound somehow unresolved or too angsty or just too much, that is the very thing that lets me know I’m on the right track — following Eve’s lead, letting it burn.

Agreed: fire can be dangerous. And prayer should be dangerous, yes? Otherwise, why bother? Perhaps it’s why I don’t. But desire? It is a burning, endless source of inspiration and heat and truth that I’m more than willing to fan into flame. It sounds far closer to the Psalms, to Gethsemane, to Golgotha. And it draws me far closer to an experience of and with the Divine than anything else: wild, untamed, and passionate.

There are days and times when I feel a lingering ache for prayer’s comfort and solace. But less and less. I don’t need to be soothed, but enflamed. I don’t need to surrender, but rise up. I don’t need to find answers, but to take action. And my desire is what compels all of this and then some. Endlessly burning… one might even say without ceasing.

Wisdom from Dr. Sharon

Dec 10, 2021 | Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

I came across a Facebook post by Brene Brown a few weeks back. She was talking about her recent conversation with Sarah Niles who plays Dr. Sharon Fieldstone on Ted Lasso. (If you’re not a Ted Lasso devotee, I promise, all of this will still make sense.)

These were the words in the meme that accompanied the post:

All I try to do is just root my feet and feel like I have a right to be here. I deserve to be loved. I deserve to be seen. I am seen. I am loved. ~ Sarah Niles

Honestly. I could just stop here, yes?

And, I have more I want to say…

Root your feet and feel like you have a right to be here.
We live in a world that often (and still) tells us we do not have that right. The evidence is legion. Still, still, women are not allowed to make choices for themselves (in some states more than others). Still, still, our voices are not heard. Still, still, our compensation does not equal that of our male counterparts. Still, still, domestic violence persists — and sexual trafficking — and sexual violence. And what is the antidote to this? SO much, of course; but the MOST healing, MOST transformative, MOST world-changing thing possible is YOU believing that you have a right to be here. Right here. Right now. So, root your feet. Stand still. Stand tall. Stand firm. And stay.

You deserve to be loved. You deserve to be seen.
No kidding. Despite your own stories — a lifetime of them — in which you’ve not been loved as you deserved, not been seen, not been heard, not been honored, this wisdom calls you to a deeper truth; one that surpasses, overcomes, and heals the lies.

You are seen. You are loved.
The thing I love about these two statements is that they eliminate all argument, all self-doubt, all question marks, all ambivalence, all wondering. They just are. They are true. And when you believe them, really believe them, then you live in ways that reflect their truth. Do that, yes?

A few ways you might experiment in the days to come:

Every morning this week, open up a blank document on your computer or page in your journal and write these words across the top of the page: Because I have the right to be here, that means…
In every conversation or interaction or meeting this week, tuck an index card or sticky note into your pocket — even the palm of your hand — that says, I deserve to be loved. I deserve to be seen. Then pay attention to, even track, how that shifts the way in which you show up, how you speak out, what you say “no” to, where you say “yes,” even the tilt of your chin and the squaring of your shoulders.
Each night this week, just before you fall asleep, repeat these words: I am seen. I am loved. What dreams may come? What gratitude might pour forth? What reflection might you see in your minds eye of just how amazing and wise and deserving you truly are?
Oh, and listen to the podcast: Brene Brown’s conversation with Sarah Niles herself.
Finally, again and again and again — repeat these words to yourself (maybe even to those you love):

All I try to do is just root my feet and feel like I have a right to be here. I deserve to be loved. I deserve to be seen. I am seen. I am loved.

Vast thanks, Dr. Sharon.

3 Ways to be Determined & Wise

Dec 3, 2021 | Sacred Stories, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

There’s an ancient, sacred story told of a woman who had the capacity to influence a man of power, who was adamant about her desires, who demanded the miraculous, and who, offers us a pretty amazing template for how to be determined, independent, and wise ourselves!

I love her story: her determination, her opinionated-ness, her unwillingness to accept “no” for an answer, her strength, her courage, her decisiveness, her agency…

And chances are high you’ve not heard of her. Or if you did, it was a LONG time ago and definitely without the 3 points I’m about to make!

She’s called the Shunammite. The prophet she interacts with is Elisha. And the miracle she demands is her son’s resurrection. Which she gets, by the way! (Though this may sound WAY outside the context of your own story, stay with me. I promise…it will connect and relate.)

She offers us three takeaways worth pondering, pursuing, and living:

1) This woman constructed her own rules related to wealth, roles, and voice.

She was not constrained by the common customs of the day (dependent, deferring, and silent). She was profoundly countercultural, made decisions completely independent of a man, and was intact — in and of herself — in every way.

Consider the predominant messages of our world today: the assumed standards of what is “appropriate” or “acceptable” behavior. What are the unspoken rules you know like the back of your hand? I get it: few of them are blatant; no declaration hangs on the wall. It’s highly possible that the only time you are actually aware of any “rules” at all is when you consider breaking one of them. And then? Well, resistance floods. The list of cons far outweighs the pros. You can already anticipate exactly what the fallout will be if you do/be/say ________.

The Shunammite offers you something far different. She says,“ Do just the opposite! Construct your own rules. No permission required!”

2) This woman did not place stock in religious authority or positions of power.

Instead, she relied on her own understanding, beliefs, and faith. She ostensibly said, “I will choose my own response to this circumstance. I will not be silenced into submission. I will determine where I place my hope and in whom.”

Think about your own story with religion — whether you went to church every single Sunday like me or just the opposite. What did you learn about who held the power, who determined what was allowed and not, right and wrong, good and bad? Chances are high there was little choice: you either believed or you didn’t; you acceded to the system and the beliefs, or you did not. And that either/or, black/white binary profoundly (and painfully) limits your spirituality, your experience of the sacred. It breaks my heart.

This woman, the Shunammite offers you something far different. Decide for yourself what you will believe, what you will hope in, what is worth fighting for. You get to choose, experience, and know the sacred on your own terms.

3) This woman refused to take “no” for an answer

— especially from those who wielded far more power and authority. She didn’t ask for her husband’s permission. She wouldn’t let Elisha’s servant serve as proxy. In fact, she conjured the power-source himself into her midst by adamantly refusing anything less.

Consider the places in your life — past and present — in which the tendency or temptation to comply or compromise has been not only present, but overwhelming. Because…well…let’s be honest: to stand up for yourself, to state your opinion, to exert your own power often feels more exhausting than it’s worth. To be just a little smaller, accept just a little less, take on just a bit more, and silently endure isn’t your first choice, but sometimes, quite frankly, it feels like the most sane one. Saying “yes,” even though it’s not wholehearted becomes far easier than having to stand fast, resist, and remain firm. I understand, believe me.

This woman, the Shunammite offers you something far different. “No” can be your default response — to any form of compromise, to any requirement that you give up hope, to any person of power who wants you to settle down or settle, period.

********

Pretty good stuff, huh? And all from a dusty, old, and relatively unknown story that (still) offers us powerful and relevant ways of being that are relevant, practical, and applicable right now, today, in this moment. (I love that this is the case!!)

So, by way of review:
1) Do just the opposite of the rules and expectations in place.
2) Define and experience the sacred on your own terms; create your own spirituality.
3) Say “no” to any form of power who prefers less of you instead of all of you.

*******

This story, the Shunammite’s is one of 52 that I reimagine and retell so that you can be accompanied, advocated for, and supported by the wisdom you deserve for the year ahead.

One of these stories, these women, is choosing you. I’m certain of it!

Learn more, then order your 2022 SacredReading today. 50% off through 12/20/21!

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