Telling Stories

“Stories have to be told or they die, and when they die, we can’t remember who we are or why we’re here.”

These words were penned by Sue Monk Kidd in her book (and then film) The Secret Life of Bees. And oh, how I have found this to be true.

I tell stories that often feel to me like they are on death’s door – so often untold (even more frequently mis-told) if not completely forgotten. And I can’t bear that!

I need their stories to remember and resurrect my own.

  • As I struggled through the excruciating years of infertility, the kindness of women who had known the same came alongside me in solidarity and strength. Remembering and telling the stories of Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, and Hannah (and so many more) reminded me of who I was and why I was here no matter the grief, the ache, the anguish.
  • In the days-weeks-months-years leading up to my divorce and certainly through it, the steady companionship of a marginalized, pregnant slave was all that held me together. Remembering and telling Hagar’s story reminded me of who I was and why I was here no matter the misunderstanding, the confusion, even the shame.
  • As a mother, while worrying and wondering about the stories through which my daughters have already lived and are yet to face, the cryptic tale of a woman who knew fear far more visceral than my own danced before me in glory and radiance.
  • Remembering and telling the story of The Woman of Revelation 12 reminded me of who I was and why I was here: to rise up on my daughters’ behalf, to fight for them, to sustain their story.
  • Often, at the start of a new day, I consider all that waits for me in the hours ahead and I look to these same women and so many more.
  • I ask one to walk with me – offering perspective, hope, wisdom, courage, and strength. She never disappoints. Remembering and telling her story, over and over to myself, reminds me of who I am and why I’m here – no matter what comes.
  • Just three weeks ago I sat on a stage at a church in Nebraska – graciously invited to tell the stories I love. Friday night. Saturday morning. Sunday. I recounted the lives of Eve, the Wives of Angels, the Midwives, Elizabeth, Mary, Hagar (yes, again), the Woman at the Well, the Woman of Revelation 12 (mmmhmm, again), and the Extravagant Woman. And I wept – so aware of the ways that the remembering and telling of their stories is the only thing that has enabled my own; the very thing that has offered me life and life and
    life.

I must tell stories so that they can live; so that I can!

I’m guessing I’m not the only one. If this provokes even the slightest hunger in you – to remember and hear such stories – there is nothing I would love more than to tell you one, many, an infinity of them!

Here’s a place to start. One ancient, sacred story – chosen especially for you – the Sacred She who will come alongside you with wisdom, beauty, and strength; who will help you remember who you are and why you are here. I promise. Learm more about SacredReadings.

Extravagant Love. Extravagant You.

There’s an ancient sacred story told of a woman who was beautifully, lavishly, even shockingly extravagant.

Desiring love, she risked. Potential misunderstanding. Certain ridicule and scorn. Whispers, shouts, and most certainly shame. None of it mattered. Only the experience and expression of love. Compelled by love, she held nothing back. Unrestrained and passionate, her deepest heart revealed and exposed. A recipient of love, she gave. Generously, without thought to prudence, scarcity, boundary, or anyone else’s ideas of what was appropriate (or not).

Because of all this, she knew extravagant response:

Worthy of love, she was honored. All shame erased. All spoken and unspoken bonds broken. All penalties paid. Freedom hers. “Truly, I say to you, wherever good news is spoken in the world, what she has done will be told in memory of her.”

*****

There’s so much I love about this story, so much I love about her. But most of all this: Her love was pre-determined, her actions hers alone, and NONE of this dependent on the response she might (or might not) receive. That is extravagance, right there.

And that, right there, calls forth the truest, most honest expression of self we could possibly hope to attain.

Want to be more authentic? Want to live in a brave and connected-to-the-Sacred- Feminine way? Here’s the template:

Risk.
Hold nothing back.
Give.
Be extravagant.

And all as expression of the love that is yours to offer; the Love that is you!

Extravagant, indeed.

This woman calls us to be exactly who we are: risky, honest, generous, and completely compelled by (not for) the love that already dwells within us; the love that defines us; the Love that is us!

When we are truly ourselves, we can be nothing other. And this is extravagant, indeed.

*****

Be assured, I’m hardly preaching here – other than to the choir. I’m working diligently on these ideas/practices in my own life. For I intuitively know that this is the way in which I am to be. The afraid, protective part of me is, well, afraid and protective. It’s true: I’ve been hurt before, the love I’ve expressed has not always been returned, and the risks have often felt far too costly. With a closer and more honest look though, I can see that these memories and experiences also carried my expectation, my desire demand for love’s return and a reward/recompense for being oh-so-generous and eh-hmm, loving. This is not my truest self. This is not my truest nature. This is not the Sacred radiating forth through my life. And this is not extravagant.

So what if, even in the smallest of moments and slightest of ways, I could move through my world as the glorious being I most truly am?

What if I were to risk because it’s a thrill; because I’m strong enough to handle it?

What if I were to hold nothing back – in my relationships, to be sure, but also in my writing, my parenting, my friendships, my self-care? What if I gave little-to-no thought to what’s in it for me, and instead, just gave, period?

What if I were extravagant?

Though a rhetorical question, I already know the answer. I would be me. I would be Love. And I would reflect the Divine.

May it be so.

 


If my writing resonates, I’d be honored if you’d subscribe to A Sunday Letter. Long-form, from me to you, every week. Learn more.

When Wisdom Eludes

I remember one afternoon, years ago, sitting in my living room with a woman I deeply respected. I talked to her about my then-struggles, about my longing to be a better wife, a better mom, a better person. I told her how I read nearly every book I could get my hands on, trying to make sense of the situations in which I found myself, trying to improve my perspective, trying to change my behavior, trying to change, period. I confessed that I quickly purchased almost any self-help regimen that promised me the results I so desired if only I’d follow their simple 1, 3, 5, or 7-step plan. And more than just read, I’d actually do what they said! I applied every principle and precept. I followed every rule. All to no avail. I listed off the conferences I’d attended for all of the same reasons. And I named the speakers, subject-matter-experts, and guru’s of one kind or another who I was convinced possessed the necessary “x” for my life. In all of these, I was completely certain that if I did exactly what I was told, surely the change I longed for would be mine.

She listened, patiently, and then said words I have never forgotten:

“Why do you look to outside experts for answers that already exist within you?”

I’m pretty sure the room started spinning. She might as well have told me that my two beautiful daughters playing at my feet were alien creatures from outer space. It was information I couldn’t take in, couldn’t comprehend, and resisted almost viscerally. This thought had never crossed my mind and I was almost 40 years old.

That conversation was nearly 14 years ago. I remember it like it was yesterday…and…I recall and apply it every day – hardly having mastered her advice.

The lure is so incredibly strong to seek for answers externally, to trust in someone else’s experience and wisdom above our own, to assume that someone older, wiser, and at least more successful knows the “secret” that will change everything broken or ailing in our lives.

And yet, were we to actually listen to our very self, our deepest soul, our strongest intuition, the before-the-dawn-of-time wisdom within (that I passionately and resolutely believe in) and then, most importantly, trust what we hear, all that we need would already be ours.

An important disclaimer: When I say “all that we need would already be ours,” I do not mean that finding sought-for wisdom within magically equals never lacking for anything, expecting success at every turn, and being profoundly honored and loved at all times. I do mean that there is no lack of wisdom within us.

The seeming trick is figuring out how to call this wisdom forth, how to access it, how to see/hear/feel/sense it in the first place.

As our conversation ended, I remember putting my infant girls down for naps (so that they wouldn’t act like creatures from outer space) and then sitting down at the dining room table with a stack of college-ruled notebook paper and a pen in front of me. I presented my question/concern at the top of the paper and then did what I’d done hundreds, thousands of times before: I wrote. I wrote exactly what I thought, what I felt, what I wanted, what I knew. Everything. No editing. No censoring. No holding back.

This was nothing new. I’d been journaling for years. What was new was that I half expected to see answers, assumed its accuracy, and trusted its authority. My answers. My accuracy. My authority. All of these appeared – and then some. Instead of being thrilled with this revelation, I was terrified. If my wisdom was right, if I actually knew, then I’d also have to act.

The real trick is trusting the wisdom itself, once found, enough to actually follow through!

This is the collective reality that most women live with. Steeped in a world that has caused us to second-guess our own knowing in deference to those with power, we struggle to hear our own brilliance, let alone express it.

Groomed to value objective reason, to trust our head over our heart, and to rely on facts over emotions, it’s not that surprising that we can barely even hear the voice, the wisdom, the wealth within, let alone follow its advice. Though our wisdom is deeply intuitive, it feels counterintuitive to trust it.

So what are the countermeasures? What are we to do?

We MUST find and rely on the expertise of other women.

It’s possible that this sounds antithetical to what I said above; in direct conflict with the sage advice I received so long ago. I assure you, it is not. It will be through our relationships with other women that we will not only come to find, hear, and trust our own wisdom, but also have the ability to walk headlong into it. We must look to other women for they are the ones who will point us back to the wisdom we already hold within ourselves.

We must discover and listen to the stories of other women so that we can see our own wisdom, our own choices, our own stories mirrored within.

We must hear the wisdom of other women and recognize it as our own: a shared knowing, a DNA-like thread that roots us to one another in soul-and-spirit ways, a gravitational and sacred force that binds us to one another – past, present, and future.

We must be in relationship with other women so that we have the courage to make hard choices, walk thin lines, and
traverse endless deserts.

14 years ago I didn’t understand any of this. 14 years ago I didn’t realize that this woman was offering me her wisdom so that I could find it within myself. 14 years ago I had no idea the choices I would yet be called to make, the lines I would yet be required to walk (and cross), the endless deserts I would yet traverse. And 14 years ago I could have never imagined being surrounded by the women I now know – face-to-face, virtually, and the ancient, sacred ones who companion and guide me in ways that continue to humble, astound, and transform me.

The wisdom you seek is already within you. Find the women who know this to be true, who can point you back to your own north star, who see and affirm beyond-a-shadow-of-a-doubt their profound belief in what you already know. And be that woman to others.

The more that we can and will do this, the sooner we can leave behind a world of experts who peddle their wares and step into one of shared truth, compassion, creativity, strength, and hope.

May it be so.

Letting Silence Speak

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.

Where Wisdom Dwells

Where is wisdom to be found when you need and want it the most? 

Here’s the quick answer: within you. 

Here’s the more in-depth answer: within you. 

Here’s the known-by-all-women-throughout-time answer: within you. 

You’ve already got it, woman! All that you need. All that’s required. All the perspective. All the insight. All the knowing. All of it is yours. 

If even the slightest shadow of a doubt enters your mind, I get it. It’s highly possible that your deep, before-the-dawn-of-time knowing has not been honored. It’s highly possible that it’s been questioned, critiqued, even shamed. It’s highly possible that what you thought you understood was said to be wrong, silly, uninformed, and impossible. And it’s highly possible that over time, you began to believe this. The voice got quieter and quieter within as the voices got louder and louder without. 

But here’s the good news: Silent, does not mean lost. Forgotten, does not mean absent. Hidden, does not mean gone.*

Here’s just one way to call it forth: 

  1. Picture/ponder the circumstance or situation in which you want insight, answers, direction.
  2. Without editing, censoring, or giving one whit of attention to what anyone else thinks (at least for this moment-in-time), say out loud, fast, and clear, exactly how you feel about what’s happening (or not happening). “This makes me feel ______________.” ‘Super-critical that you do this quickly – spur-of-the-moment – with complete freedom and permission to say whatever you want. 
  3. Now that you’ve named the feeling(s), articulate what you want to be true – right here, right now. Again, without overthinking or critiquing, fill in the blank: “What I want to have happen is _______________.” 
  4. Next, respond to this: “If my want or desire in this circumstance/situation were a reality, I would feel ____________.” (Is it safe to say that you deserve to feel this way? Mmm hmm.) 
  5. Far more dicult, but oh-so-important is this: trust that what you long for is good, worthy, and valid; trust that you deserve this to be so; trust that you are right! 
  6. Realize, allow, accept, and affirm that what you just said, what you see, what you envision, what you know, no matter what, is true; that it is wise; that you are. 
  7. And finally, lather – rinse – repeat. 

Honestly, your wisdom is that clear, that accessible, that present. It can be trusted. You can be trusted; for you are so, so wise! 

It’s true: I can rattle off these 7 steps as though they are the most obvious and simple things to do, but I have struggled (and sometimes still do), to make these practices my own; to actually believe that my answers could possibly have merit, let-alone the capacity to be real, to be wise, to be lived.

It was (and sometimes still is) scary for me to admit what I actually felt and wanted, because it prompted an acute and impossible-to-ignore awareness of the gap between my current reality and what I longed for. It was far easier for me to settle, to downgrade my desires, to work harder to keep things on an even keel with the status quo intact, and no one the wiser. But in making that choice, I lost sight of one critical truth: I AM the wiser! 

So here’s what my wiser, wizened self offers you: 

Wisdom is your birthright. It dwells. It flourishes. It exists because you do. It’s all within you. Already. All the time. Amazing. 

May it be so.