Going Home, by Martha West

Editor’s Note:  The following essay appears in our recent publication, Join the Journey.

We all know that life has its ups and downs, but, often, it is the downturns that put me in the listening position.

My pattern is generally like this: After I have been smashed, bashed, torn, or twisted by an unexpected circumstance or personal difficulty, I look up to find that my way back to myself will be a daunting journey.  I generally lack the strength and willpower to pick myself up and return to the fray of life. That’s when I turn to a spiritual guide who can help me find what I need to get back home.

Many spiritual applications have been drawn from The Legend of Bagger Vance–a book written by Steven Pressfield, and later made into a movie directed by Robert Redford. The story is told as a reflection from the viewpoint of Hardy Greaves. He describes a remarkable golf match he saw as a child. In the match, golf greats Bobby Jones and Walter Hagen play opposite the local war hero, Rannulph Junah. Initially, Junah declines to play, but the mysterious Bagger Vance, who has become Junah’s companion, offers to caddy for him. It is Bagger Vance who encourages Junah to ignore the thinly veiled contempt of the others and to find his “authentic swing.” At one point Bagger tells Junah, “Inside each and every one of us is our one true authentic swing. Something I was born with…Something that can’t be learned…Something that’s got to be remembered.”

This story resonates with me because it is the archetypal journey of a hero who falls into darkness through some disconnect with his soul, and then comes back into the light with the help of a spiritual guide. Finding my own way home involves the sometimes ironic and painful process of letting go of my ego and its needs; I never know if I am dying to myself or transcending myself, and maybe it doesn’t matter. Whatever I call it, I still must find a way out of the darkness—I must find a way to pick up the pieces of my life; I must once again connect with my “authentic swing” so I can go home.

Joseph Campbell described the Monomyth, or Hero’s Journey, in his book, The Hero with a Thousand Faces. In the Monomyth, thresholds appear at various times. As the heroine of my own life, I must cross the thresholds that appear along my path, intentionally walking into something that separates me from the familiar.

In recent years, I have crossed thresholds of job transitions, divorce, children in crisis, financial stress, elderly parents, depression, anxiety, and illness. Other, happier crossings include completing graduate school, integrating my sexuality and my spirituality, finding love again with a new life partner, and entering menopause.

 

Often there are guardians at these thresholds that must be conquered. Guardians of fixed belief, fear, insecurity, or perceived unworthiness try to keep me stuck in old ways of engaging life, even though those ways no longer work for me. That’s when my own spiritual guide encourages me to overcome, and invites me into a new and sacred space.

Once I cross over, I occasionally find that I am alone in the darkness of a new world. In the darkness, I have the opportunity to discover my own “authentic swing.” I emerge from the darkness transformed by the experience and affirmed by my spiritual guide. The continual cycle of death and resurrection is manifesting a new creation: a more integrated, healed, and whole self. Like Mr. Junah, I find not only my authentic swing, but also myself. It is always a homecoming.

Taking this journey involves a habit of the heart referred to as prayer—a practice I share with my spiritual guide. In recent years, I have become a spiritual guide for other seeking souls. I listen to their stories and their prayers, honoring the sacredness of each threshold as a companion to another. By holding each seeker in this holy attention, the movements of God in the soul are discerned.

This is my story. It is the story of Bagger Vance, of Rannulph Junah, and of the game of golf, which is a metaphor for life. This is the hero’s story, and as a spiritual guide, I become present to another and to the One; ultimately realizing, in the words of Thomas Merton, “there is no Other—you and the Other are one.”

 

Martha West, M. A. Theology, is a spiritual director practicing in the Twin Cities. She invites seekers to notice God’s movement by prayerfully listening for the presence of Spirit.

 

What Is a Creative Shift? by Vera Snow

Editor’s Note:  This post previously appeared on Vera Snow’s blog, and appears here with her kind permission.

What is a Creative Shift?

It’s when a bridge is being formed between the old and the new so transformation can occur.  A transition, or renaissance of sorts.

What might this mean to you and the world around you?

A Creative Shift seems to be happening on a global scale, and moving into the transformational state.  It is not only affecting individuals, but groups, communities, organizations, and even the environment itself.  As old structures fall and new structures form, it will be important to stay as grounded, realistic, and practical as possible when moving through this transition.   Let’s face it: no one likes change, especially human beings.  Fear is usually what holds us back, and if this fear accumulates over time, it can wreak havoc on our mental, emotional, and physical health.  It’s best to learn to be gentle with yourself, and allow yourself to “go with the flow” and move at your own pace.  Not only will the fear diminish, but you will grow, expand, and acquire more freedom for yourself, which will also affect others and the world around you.

What might the onset of a Creative Shift look like?

Individually:

• An uneasiness
• An internal nudging
• Old coping skills and patterns no longer working
• Life transitions
• Grief and loss
• Changes in relationships
• Empty nest
• Emotional unrest
• Financial crisis
• Change in values
• Change in priorities

Groups:

• Loss of focus
• No longer effective
• Loss of energy, enthusiasm
• New patterns emerging

Globally:

• Institutional structures are no longer effective or useful
• Educational systems no longer effective
• Jobs are scarce, little if any growth
• Climate is changing
• Depressed economies

As a spiritual director, I am trained to intuitively listen for the Creative Shift or transformational process in individuals and in groups.  Whether listening to individuals or groups of people, I provide a space for active listening to occur.  I simply act as a mirror by objectively listening for the energy behind the words.  Intuitively connecting the internal and external of what is being communicated and allowing space for the person(s) being listened to take a step back and experience the connection for themselves.

For individuals, I may pose questions for deeper listening, or illuminate something being said. Sometimes silence or body awareness is suggested.  I do this in-person or on-line via chat or Skype.

For groups, I may illuminate patterns and suggest moving more deeply into those patterns of thought and awareness.  Friends, acquaintances, organizational staff, and church groups respond well to this work.

How might you be experiencing the Creative Shift in your life?  Instead of stifling it, what might be the nudge or next step for you in following it through?

Vera Snow is, among other things, a spiritual director, a mother, and a writer.  Follow her or contact her at verasnow.com

Finding Middle Ground, by Vera Snow

EDITOR’S NOTE: This entry originally appeared on verasnow.com, and is reprinted here by her kind permission.

Right now, my favorite network T.V. show is The Middle on Wednesday nights.  It’s about a blue-collar/middle class family living in Indiana that falls short of experiencing the American Dream one episode at a time.  As much as the middle-aged mother tries to rationalize and sanitize the reality of a life with little money, three outrageously different kids, and a “man’s man” of a husband, she finds herself humbled at the end of every episode.  Not humbled in a defeatist kind of way, but rather in a way that leads her out of her head and into her heart.  Basically, striving to find a balance somewhere in the middle.

She models the idea of letting go and surrendering to the many things (and there are many) in her life that are simply out of her control.  She is a heroine in so many ways, because she never ceases to look her life straight in the eye, call it by name, and embrace all it has to offer, including the very ugly.  No matter how much she thinks her life should be a certain way, she always comes to realize that her life may not be perfect, but rather great just as it is!

This is the kind of radical acceptance that I strive for on a daily basis.  To accept the things I cannot change, change the things I can, and respect the difference between the two.  A kind of Serenity Prayer practiced in the Twelve Step Programs, yet profoundly empowering to anyone trying to live an authentic, balanced life.

So often, especially during this technological age, we are taught to think our way through anything and everything.  Yet, we often forget that we are so much more than our heads.  In fact, we have a whole body underneath that head that is hardly ever tapped for insight, perspective, and wisdom.  Many times the body is ignored and left dormant. A Sleeping Beauty of sorts just waiting to be awakened and made whole.

Not unlike Frankie Heck, from The Middle, life can sometimes bring me to this awakened state.  Of course, I usually have to be brought to my knees first, laid out flat, and then — and only then — will I give up the fight and finally accept the situation at hand.  Not a fun process.   Gut-wrenching actually!

This kind of leap of faith goes way beyond rational thought and takes over my entire body in a way that brings me back to my instinctual self.  The self that can no longer explain or rationalize things away, and resigns itself to being tired and hungry.  Tired of thinking everything to death, and hungry for a simpler process that comes straight from the gut!

This is the middle ground that Frankie Heck comes to at the end of every episode.  Through the laughter and tears that accompany her and her family from one messy week to the next, she always seems to land steadily on her feet.  No longer in a wishful thinking state, but in a state of unfettered awareness that changes her from the inside out, and surrounds her with an inner peace that clearly shines through and exudes: All is well — all has always been well — and all forever well will be.

How about you?  When have you come to a radical acceptance of something in your life?  What was it like for you and what did you learn from it?

Vera Snow is, among other things, a mother, a spiritual director, and an author.  Follow her at http://www.verasnow.com

A Surprising Assumption, by Vera Snow

Editor’s Note:  Thanks to Vera Snow for her kind permission to let us reprint this entry from her blog.

Lately, I’ve been surprised through my assumptions.  I guess by this age, I thought I could assume a lot of things about life.  Luckily, this is not so!

Recently, I went to a two-day retreat and thought I knew what I was getting myself into.  Not exactly, but I thought I knew where this retreat would lead me next.  Of course, that did not happen.

Instead, I learned something surprising.  I learned that I have not forgotten how to play.  In fact, not only have I not forgotten how to play, but it is second nature.  I learned that “imaginative play” is like “coming home” for me.

Living in my imagination was not just about having fun growing up, but a coping skill I learned as a child.  A way to escape the chaos that surrounded me.  I could escape to different worlds and become different people.  For instance, I could spend hours playing on a simple log and turning it into a balance beam that would turn into an Olympic competition which would in turn win me the gold medal!  Of course, the irony at the time was that I didn’t consider myself “playing” but rather living out a reality that I wanted so badly to be true.

Fast forward some decades, I am asked to “play” again with some sand play figurines amongst a circle of adults and suddenly, I am home!  I didn’t skip a beat.  Those figurines came alive as if they had never left.  They spoke, laughed, danced and told me secrets as if we had never been apart.  It was amazing and surprisingly integral to who I am.

Will I continue to play with sand and little figurines?  You bet I will!  Every chance I get.  Once home, always at home.  I’m just glad I found it sooner rather than later.

How about you?  When was the last time you were surprised by an assumption?  What did you do about it?  What did you learn from it?

 

Vera Snow is, among other things, a spiritual director, a writer, and a mother.  Not necessarily in that order.  You may reach her at vera@verasnow.com

 

The List, by Merry Sawdey

EDITOR’S NOTE:  The following article appears in our current publication,  Join the Journey

During the time I was doing the Ignatian Exercises, an image came to me. God and I are sitting on a beautiful hillside on a warm, sunny day—the kind of day you dream of in February. God is sitting next to me in a lawn chair, legs stretched out, arms resting on the arms of the chair. I’m comfortably ensconced in my chair. There’s no place we need to go, nothing we need to do. It’s enough to sit here enjoying ourselves. I don’t have to prove anything, earn anything, justify anything, explain anything. I felt a molecular change come over me as I felt this image move through me—that God loves me right now, in each and every moment, knowing me inside and out, accepting me with joyful love.

I only came to that image when I understood that I could take anything to God. Anything. My anger, frustration, complaining and whining, judgments, blame and finger-pointing, resistance and stuckness, my arrogance and bullheadedness. All of it. I didn’t have to clean myself up and put on my prettiest ruffly dress to get an audience. This image is one of grace, and blasts away my beliefs about having to earn God’s love by good behavior.

As I began to take more of my difficult emotions to God, I realized how powerful it was for me to truly listen to myself and acknowledge the truth of my own experience. Some situations and feelings that had been stuck began to ease. I gained more clarity, more resources for ways to work with my swampy and stuck places. I gained more practice in letting go. Those of us in spiritual direction—giving or receiving—know the power and importance of listening. But it hadn’t occurred to me to collaborate with God in giving that kind of listening to myself.

When I go more deeply into the dark places, I can bring understanding, compassion, and even appreciation. Many times those feelings of resistance or stubbornness are resourceful aspects of myself that were trying to solve a problem or take care of myself in difficult times. Now, maybe I can see how a particular tool doesn’t work as well as I thought—or at all, but expressing gratitude for my own creativity and resourcefulness helps me to let go and move on. Sometimes I feel that it’s far more powerful to transform or tame a dragon than it is to destroy it.

Reflecting with God on these hard places makes it easier for me to let go, because curiosity and understanding help to diminish the grip of the darkness. And I came to realize that, sometimes, whatever I let go of leaves a kind of vacuum or empty space, like an empty shelf or freshly dug bed of dirt in the spring. Sometimes I’m able to breathe into that empty space and just feel the freedom of not being pole-axed by anger or judgment. Sometimes, though, I find it useful to ask, “What do I want instead? How do I want that space to be filled?” I think about feelings or qualities that I’d like to invoke that would fill the spaciousness, maybe with laughter or healing. I think of these qualities or feelings as aspects of God or human expression of the Divine.

I started making a list of these qualities: presence, whimsy, compassion, rhythm, freedom, honesty, wisdom. I compiled quite a list and continue to add to it as I find new words. I use this list in prayer each day to reflect on how I want to be in the world, what form my expression, work, and play might take. On a day I’m cleaning off my desk, I might reflect on the quality of release. On a day when our family is spending time together, I might consider whimsy, generosity, and laughter. I like to journal about what the word means to me, what resistance or negative feelings the word brings up. I find that some words, like simplicity, have both a light and a dark side. There’s the aspect of simplicity that feels clarifying, and the aspect that feels tight. On some days, qualities like humor or patience seem rather far-fetched.  Some words, like surrender and obedience, are difficult for me. And it’s not unusual for the nuance and connotation of any word to change from day to day, depending on my mood and perspective.

The practice, though, is to begin to choose the quality of my day, to listen for my desire, to ask God’s collaboration in creating a day where I feel awake and conscious and a creative participant in my response to the circumstances I encounter.

The step that is crucial is where God and I spend time reflecting on what is true for me in the present moment. I can’t skip over or ignore feeling tired or upset or frustrated. The creation of something new depends on knowing where I start. It’s easier to let go of the stubborn bits if I acknowledge them and honor them for the information they bring. It’s much easier to climb out of the swamp if I bring kindness, compassion, and insight to my reflections. As Mary Oliver wrote:

“You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.”

 

Merry Obrecht Sawdey is in the Spiritual Direction Formation Program at Sacred Ground. She is also a Kindermusik educator, writer, book artist, Godly Play teacher, and general enthusiast. She lives with her son, husband, two dogs, and two cats in Cannon Falls where, among other things, they foster dogs for Pet Haven of Minnesota. 

 

And So The Journey Continues, by Maggie Klaers

EDITOR’S NOTE:  This piece appears in our current publication, Join the Journey

For many years, I lived with the happy illusion that in my spiritual journey I would arrive at a place where I could take off my walking shoes, slide my feet into slippers, and coast.   The reality is that I have had to re-soul my walking shoes time and time again.

Back in the day when I first made the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, I experienced the call of Jesus (formally known as the Call of the Kingdom).   In retrospect, I see that I made a choice to answer that call.  I just wasn’t aware that my journey would be so internal and downward. In the Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius encouraged me to make a radical shift in my thinking about who I was and what my purpose on earth would be.  The call to follow the path of Jesus is all about doing that.

Among the many ways St. Ignatius invited me to commune with my God was through the prayer of imagination.  The prayer started out with me entering into a stairwell.  If I had been in charge of this prayer, I would have created a grand staircase leading up to the gates of heaven.  Instead, this stairwell was very industrial looking and was descending.   I hesitated at the top of that stairwell.  It didn’t look very inviting, but the image kept coming to take the journey, so I finally accepted. After all, I did have my walking shoes on.  The stairwell had about seven steps down, a landing, and seven more steps.   So I began.

I could see each step as I began, and I was able to arrive at the first landing without mishap.  A piece of cake, I thought.  Oh, there was some clutter on the first landing, but I could step over it.  Being brave, I started the second set of stairs down. Now I found the second level of stairs not as well lit.  I wasn’t as confident of my footing.  I was given the inspiration of taking a flashlight to assist me.  I have this nice little flashlight that I thought would be all I needed.  But the second flight of stairs had much more clutter and my little flashlight just wasn’t much help.  Did I really want to continue this dangerous journey?  I looked back up the stairwell and I could see Jesus standing at the top.  I asked him if he had a bigger flashlight that could assist me.  He smiled and said he did.  In fact, he had a searchlight, as well as a broom and dustpan.  So, with Jesus lighting the way, I have continued this journey downward into the depth of my soul, sweeping, clearing.

In answering the call of Christ, I have discovered the inner work that leads me deeper into my soul and deeper into the heart of my God calls for surrender, discovering my true worth, and relishing in my gifts and graces.  The work of sweeping and clearing continues as well.  Each landing of the internal stairwell brings new challenges, new awareness, and a deeper love for my God.

And so the journey continues.

 

Maggie Klaers holds a bachelor’s degree in Psychology, and a certificate in spiritual direction from the College of St. Catherine’s Masters of Theology program. Maggie has directed for Sacred Ground since 2000.  She is on the teaching staff for the Spiritual Direction Formation Program.  She can be reached at mlklaers@frontiernet.net

 

 

 

What a Journey! What a Gift! by John Pikala

Editor’s Note:  This article appears in our current publication, Join the Journey

“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening, that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique.  And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost.”  —  Martha Graham (1894-1991)

From perhaps fourth or fifth grade, I felt drawn to priesthood as a possible vocation, and, after high school, I attended seminary for four undergraduate years.  Then I decided to change course:  I received a Master’s degree and a license to teach.  “Knowing how way leads on to way,” as Robert Frost writes, I went on to work over three decades in many educational positions and at various levels, with my “way” leading eventually to retirement after a wide-ranging career in education.

A couple years later, a new feeling began to stir inside—well, perhaps it was not exactly new.  What I once again felt moving in my soul was a “calling,” but whereas before I had felt a call to minister as a Roman Catholic priest, now I sensed being called to another kind of ministry.  To determine whether this new calling was authentic, I enrolled in Sacred Ground’s Spiritual Director Formation program in 2006, then struggled mightily with, but eventually yielded gratefully to, the discernment process, and in May 2011, was certified as a spiritual director/companion.

The meaning I’ve made from my own journey is this:  I re-discovered—or, more precisely, reclaimed—that much earlier calling:  to be of service to people as they discern where God is moving in their lives.  While the speaker of Frost’s poem says, “I doubted if I should ever come back [to that first road],” I did return, “and that has made all the difference.”

At the same time, need I ask why over forty years passed by before I answered what I am convinced was/is the Call of the Spirit?  No, because I know that God is patient, and that perhaps God’s was a steady, forty-year calling that God waited for me to hear and accept.  Also, God wastes nothing, including my experience as an educator.  When I began to serve as a director-in-training, my “way” took me to launch a practice I called The Journey Within, through which I led spirituality groups focused on spiritual practices.  In facilitating the groups at my church, I blended together talents in teaching and in spiritual companioning.

Then, last fall I was invited to co-facilitate Exploring Your Spiritual Path, a new offering at Sacred Ground.  Deb LeMay and I have been inviting the participants to enter into EYSP as an on-going retreat.  This is a challenge to me.  On my own—and I noticed this especially during my journey through the Ignatian Exercises—I can walk away from experiencing God and move towards learning about God.  While I realize I don’t have to choose between my mind and my spirit, I understand from my history that hiding in my head with theology or “God information” is a barrier to being with God in prayer and silence, with my heart open and available.

Barbara Brown Taylor observes, “People don’t want more information about God.  They want more God.”  So while I am a licensed educator, in EYSP my goal is not to teach (or teach about) spiritual practices; I wish instead to present participants opportunities for discerning how they might rest in the Holy.  Of course there is “presentation” of the practices, but even in the presenting, a wise facilitator models with the humility and freshness of “a beginner’s mind.”  And for the participants, the invitation always is to engage with the practices:  participants “try them on” and discern which practices feed their relationship with God, and also recognize that practices they (we!) resist are sometimes where the Spirit is leading.

Maybe you are asking, as I am, How is it possible that John began his training at Sacred Ground in 2006, and just five years later is facilitating an on-going retreat at his alma mater?

The way I see it, this “leap” continues to be all about hearing and responding to a call—and about being that called person—rather than about anything achieved, attained, or accomplished.  As my own spiritual director regularly challenges me, “John, are you a human being or a human doing?”  My role, I believe, is about being rather than striving, which is another way of saying, the call is grace, and offering a response to the call is due to more grace still.  And the grace of the call, of course, is pure gift.

In my life’s journey, I have indeed observed that way leads on to way, and that so very much of the path forward is grace-full.  But I’ve also noticed something else.  Discovering one’s purpose or vocation or bliss is about persistence and clear seeing and, ultimately, cultivating a heart that IS open and available.  Oh, yes…and also, as Martha Graham notes, answering a call is about claiming one’s vitality, translating one’s life force into action, uniquely expressing one’s energy, and saying yes to—instead of resisting or blocking—one’s soul.  What a gift this journey is!

John Pikala received his spiritual direction certification from Sacred Ground.  Through his ministry, The Journey Within, John offers group and individual spiritual companioning, leads retreats, facilitates spirituality groups, meets with people in Twelve Step recovery, receives Fifth Steps, and teaches at Sacred Ground.  Contact him at onipickle1@aol.com

My Path to Being Fully Alive, by Catherine Tautges

Editor’s Note:  This article appears in our current publication, Join the Journey.

Ever since I was a child, I have liked to swim. I loved being outdoors in the fresh air, and delighting in the colors of the bright blue sky and the deep green of the pine trees. The water always invited lots of play—running, splashing, jumping, diving. I felt fully alive as a child.

I remember one late afternoon dozing off on the beach under the shade of my beloved pines. As I slowly awakened, everything seemed so still and yet so alive. I first noticed the softness of the light as the sun was just beginning to descend. The summer colors were so vibrant, and I heard the sweet songs of the birds as they sat perched in the trees. The waves quietly lapped up onto the shore. I had a child’s experience of being embraced by God’s all-surrounding presence. All was right and lovely in my world.

Fast forward many years to midlife, and I found myself asking, “Where did the play go? What about that feeling of being fully alive?” Around that time, I was beginning my studies in the Spiritual Direction Formation Program at Sacred Ground. Early in the program, I came across a quote by St. Irenaeus: “The Glory of God is man fully alive.” I was so drawn to those words, and so much wanted to recapture that way of being fully alive in this world – the playful, joyful, spontaneous spirit that felt so natural to me as a child. It now seemed a mystery to me as how to regain that playful, fully alive spirit.

While in the Formation Program, I began to see how small my God was – judging, keeping track, thinking in black and white, conditional in love and approval. Through the program, and sessions with my dear spiritual director, my God grew, and grew, and grew, and grew. God became complete acceptance, all-forgiving, unconditional love, and has the most amazing gaze of delight. God delights in me, laughs and plays with me. As God became bigger, gentler, kinder, I became freer—free to be me, fully alive in God’s embrace.

Slowing down, inviting silence, and meditating are ways that nourish my new found freedom, and keep me fully alive. There are many ways to meditate and one of the ways I like to meditate is to swim. As I move through the various front and back strokes during my laps, I give time and focus to each of my senses: sight, sound, smell, taste, touch. I feel buoyed up by God’s all-surrounding presence.

Recently, as I was getting out of the pool, a swimmer in the lane next to me said with a smile, “You make swimming look like play.” I smiled back and said, “You don’t know how much your words mean to me. Thank you!”

All is right and lovely in my world.

As swimmers dare

to lie face to the sky

and water bears them,
as hawks rest upon air
and air sustains them,
so would I learn to attain
freefall, and float
into Creator Spirit’s deep embrace,
knowing no effort earns
that all-surrounding grace.

—Denise Levertov

 

 

Catherine Tautges is a certified spiritual director through Sacred Ground.  She has a long history in the health care industry.  Currently, Catherine provides spiritual direction and professional life coaching.

 

It’s Up to Us Now! by Vera Snow

Editor’s Note: This entry previously appeared on Vera Snow’s blog, and appears here by her kind permission.

So much speculation about 2012.  The ancient Mayan calendar predicts doomsday.  The fundamentalists talk about the rapture.  The New Agers call it a shift to a higher consciousness.  So what is it really?  I don’t think anyone really knows for sure, but it’s hard not to notice that something is going on.

Whether it’s the global economy, the weather, or political mayhem, most people would probably say that they are being affected by these changes on a personal level.  So why all the angst?  My guess is it’s because we don’t like change.  Who does?  It’s uncomfortable, it’s weird, and it’s just plain annoying to not know the future.

Whatever it is that is going on, however, I like to think that we as people are being called to live more deeply.  What does this mean?  I think this means something different to everyone.  For me, it means to let go of things.  Things that may have been important once but just aren’t anymore.  A deeper trust in what is going on right now, and responding to it with affection rather than anxiety.

I remember when my kids were babies, I couldn’t wait for them to walk.  And then when they did, I wished they were babies again.  Next, I couldn’t wait for them to talk in full sentences and then when they did, I wished them right back to silence.  Now that they are teenagers, I find myself looking forward to them being self-sufficient and independent, yet wondering how I will feel when they leave home and start their own lives.

I guess it will continue to be a mystery until I experience it for myself.  That seems to be the theme I go back to as I anticipate 2012 and the years that follow.  Accept the mystery that lies ahead while relishing in that which is going on right now.  Grieving that which was and anticipating the graceful movements that lie ahead.

I never think this kind of letting go and letting bewill be easy but then again holding on to the past has never served me well, either.  So is it new life or holding onto to things that are no longer fruitful?  I hope I choose new life.  I hope I’ve learned by now that the one thing that is permanent is change and I can either fight it or roll with it.  Boy, I hope I roll with it!

How about you?   Are you going to move along gracefully or fight it every step of the way?  What might you let go of today?

I hope as a people, a country and a world, we all do our individual parts in letting go of something (anything) that no longer holds purpose.  What will that be for you?  And how might you play a role in causing a wave of global grace around the world?  Yes, I think we are that powerful.  And yes, I think it’s a conscious choice we all have to make for ourselves.

“What Happens When Your Soul Begins to Awaken,” by Daniel Ladinsky

Editor’s Note: This is the poem Michele read at last week’s Professional Development event, reprinted here with permission.  Please see citation at the bottom.

What Happens When Your Soul Begins to Awaken

What happens when your soul

Begins to awaken

Your eyes

And your heart

And the cells of your body

To the great journey of love?

 

First there is wonderful laughter

And probably precious tears

 

And a hundred sweet promises

And those heroic vows

No one can ever keep.

 

But still God is delighted and amused

You once tried to be a saint

What happens when your soul

Begins to awake in this world

To our deep need to love

And serve the Friend?

 

O the Beloved will send you

One of his wonderful, wild companions

Like Hafiz.

 

Ladinsky, Daniel.  I Heard God Laughing: Renderings of Hafiz.  Mindin, Henry S. (ed.)  New York: Penguin.  2006.