Paying Attention in October

C and I talked recently about where I am in this process of self-discovery. We looked for metaphors…..In the chrysalis still metamorphosing from caterpillar to butterfly….in that deep transforming secret darkness? But that didn’t feel quite right. I feel beyond that. I do seem to have found my new self, and for the most part, I think I have started to come out into this brave new world. Newly hatched seems more apt. Just out of my egg, a new chick on the planet. Yes, that one fits! Wobbly and blinking in the light that sometimes enlightens and sometimes simply glares,obscures and confounds. Wandering around, sometimes in circles, trying to figure things out, figure me out, feeling sometimes very small and alone in a world that seems suddenly very big and sometimes very cold. Oh, but also very exciting! There are explorations to be made and journeys to be undertaken. And it’s all fine as long as I can find that wing to hide under now and again when it all becomes too much.

I found that wing that night. We had talked, circling from the Matthew passage that captured me at the clergy conference GBD "Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don't get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes." C wanted to know if I was hearing this as invitation or prescription. “Cod liver oil,” as she so graphically put it. She urged me to be invited. To take time to be deliberate, to give myself the gift of luxuriating in the free time that has sort of “magically” opened up in my life, to spend this time just being, noticing, without worry or concern about where it might end up, where I might end up.

That night I just kept weeping. It just kept coming, overfull, uncontainable. And as I cried, with tears from what seemed like a deep and bottomless source, I felt a warm and tender Presence surround me, tuck me, nestle me. God was there. And for a moment, the chick was at peace.

The idea of unstructured time has always made me uneasy, a little terrified actually. It’s one of many of the reasons I have always stayed so frenetically busy. It’s going to be a challenge to let myself have that, to not fill the emptier days with “stuff” just to have the comfort of a full calendar. It’s not like I have nothing to do in the coming weeks. October is pleasantly busy with commitments of church and work. But given some of the schedule insanity of my past…..yes, there are acres of time to make me anxious here!

But I have decided that I am going to make a choice for. I am choosing to use this opening of time and space as an invitation from the God who, after all, does love me and desires my best. I am going to “roll in it” as C put it. To take my camera and my notebook and go to the open fields and the woods and the trails and wallow in the lovely prairie light. To sit. To listen. To watch. To sink into in silence and solitude. To look around and look within and really try to see what is here, right now in this moment, while I have the time to do so.

And in this time, I have decided to commit to something. A spiritual discipline of writing that I am hoping will be a least useful and at most transformative, in the way that last November’s daily posts on gratitude were for me. I am committing to daily posts in the month of October focused on Matthew 6:34, especially the first part of the first phrase, “Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now...” I am going to try to see in how many ways in how many places, both internally and externally I can find what God is doing right now in my life, in the lives and the world around me, and do a daily post on that. What I remember from last November is that what I focus on is what I see. So there it is. Spiritual disciplines are enhanced by community, so if anyone would like to join me in this, I’d love to hear about it.

Musings in my Garden on Good and Evil

I have been thinking lately about good and evil. This is probably no coincidence as I have been dealing recently with putting to rest (I hope) the spiritual abuse that took place when I was in high school. While I do not wish to paint the perpetrator of that abuse herself as an evil person, certainly any act of abuse carries within it an element of that which is evil, that is something which is totally “not good,” not of God. We had talked about that part of it often, C and I, as we wrestled with how much of a hold G still had on me after all these years, how her words to me on the stairs still burned in my soul. How those feelings of shame and inadequacy were still so easily triggered in me by the slightest feeling that I was doing something others might perceive as unacceptable for some reason. How even the need to be a “good priest” could set me off on a downward spiral. C would say over and over as I struggled to break free of this, “Clearly this is not of God.” And I would agree, and remain trapped in its grip. No, G was not evil. She was, herself likely abused, and she was using us to get her own needs met in ways that were unhealthy and damaging to us. She was twisted and she was dangerous and it is very unfortunate that she was allowed to run riot in our young lives.

Because it is in such places that evil, or Evil, if you will, I think steps in and takes advantage of the moment. For if God has dreams for us, Evil too, has its own designs, nightmares perhaps, that can unfold if the circumstances are right and the humans are cooperative. And Evil, I think very much wants its way. And Evil, having no qualms of conscience to hinder its path, will use whatever is available in the moment to have those dark dreams and plans come to be in our lives.

Sometimes the timing is just so uncanny it’s hard to believe it’s all just circumstantial. A round was won on that Friday night for freedom, for good, and I think I can say for God, because I know God smiled on it. A great bondage in my soul, which Evil needs to flourish, was released. The dark whispers that held me captive were suddenly no longer powerful, no longer working to keep me enthralled. In a new and very powerful way I belonged solely and utterly and wholly to God. There were no parts left behind, caught in the web of shame and confusion spun those many years ago. Nothing to catch, nothing to trip on, nothing here now for Evil to take advantage of. And sometimes it’s very strange how things “just happen” in time. On that Friday, I became free and found new strength in myself. On Monday that freedom and strength faced an attack. A strike out towards me in those places where I am most vulnerable. It seems almost as if Evil is looking for its wedge, its way back in, or perhaps rattling at the gates to see if there are places where this new knowledge and freedom will not hold. A place where I might be convinced to retreat again to that stairway in defeat, convinced again that she was right after all, that I am irredeemable and bad and everything good in me is sham and artifice.

But surprisingly, while I am angry and frightened, I have not been extremely triggered. Oh, there have been moments when I have heard the Critical Voice saying the expected things, the “What did you expect?” the “Of course!” and the “So who will care for you now!” There have been a few minutes of a slimy voice in my head that said “this is what you get for thinking you could get away….” And one that tried to link these events up as punishment for every sin I have ever committed! But all of that has been the exception, not the rule and it has been mercifully short-lived. There have also been, I have to admit, a few moments of “OK, God, where are you in all of this?” on my part, a few moments of some anger at God about it all. I am not happy about that. I wish I had more faith, more trust, more acceptance that all will be well, no matter what comes.

But Evil doesn’t get its way here. No matter what. There is no going back. Love wins. Truth wins. And that is all there is to it. And I know that God is in this. God is in the clear and present witness of those who are standing with me, supporting me, loving me, praying with and for me here, and across the world for heaven’s sake! God is with me in what I read this morning in Romans: “Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.’ No, ‘if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads. Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” (12:14-21). God is with me in the strength that I feel in being able to keep pulling myself back from the edge when I want to go to the dark place of worst-case scenarios and what-ifs. God is with me in the timing. If that particular Friday had not come before Monday….I shudder to think of how much worse this would be.

I will be preaching on another passage from Romans a week from Sunday. About how all things work for good for those who love God. That has always been a hard one for me, because clearly that is not about happy endings. We don’t always get happy endings. I may not get one now. But I have something new to say about that passage now I think. It’s not about the ending….it’s about what happens in the midst, God in the midst, with us as we walk and hold that line against the places where Evil would like to seep back into our lives, or maybe create places where none were, or take advantage of natural occurrences and vulnerabilities. God is with us, and Evil ultimately has been defeated, and because of that we can hold the line and in the end, that really is all that matters. Thanks be to God.

The Chapter in Which Kate Gets Free at Last

A while back I wrote a post about someone who was significant to me when I was in high school. In that post I talked a bit about how much G was able to hurt me with her cold words and her treatment of me. In the months since I wrote that, I have come to understand that what she did was much more than that. What she did was spiritual abuse, it was soul stealing and it was profoundly damaging to me. For over forty years I have carried not only the pain of the words she said to me, but a part of me has remained absolutely stuck and rooted on the stairway where I collapsed when she said them, stopped in my tracks in part of my growth in a sense. Because what she told me was that I was "not lovable", that I was "not worthy" of any one's love and care. She of course, being the wonderful person that she was, could go above and beyond that and would care for me anyway....she would fly in the face of all the "others" who told her she was "wasting her time" on me, on my "phony, fakey" self whom "everyone knew" would "never amount to anything."

Those words became a part of me, she became a part of me. In psychological terms, she was an introject in my personality. Whenever I was stressed, or something happened that reminded me in any way of her, or my back was against the wall (like any time I felt guilty about anything...which for me is pretty much any time I am less than perfect!), it would trigger stuff about this. She of course was the lead the critical voice in my head, always ready to shame me, to remind me that I am indeed not really ok, not really loveable, despite much evidence to the contrary. I have been working away at this whole thing for years in various ways, in therapy, in body work, and most recently in spritual direction, knowing that many of my issues were connected with G and my relationship with her, that she stood in the way of true authenticity and freedom for me, and getting more and clear of late that what she did was abusive.

Last night I think I got free. I have known all along I was not the only girl she befriended. I knew there were a group of us, and I knew we were all kind of fringey girls. Loners, kids whose family lives were not the best, or who did not fit in socially, or who had "issues" of one kind or another. I also knew she did not want us to know one another, and actively discouraged friendships between us. As we talked in spiritual direction last night, the light bulb finally went on! C had mentioned the possibility of trying to look up the other girls and see how she had treated them, if she had done something similar to them. My first reaction had been fear that if I found them they would say I was the only one she said those things to, behaved that way with, but then suddenly, I knew! I knew as if it were written clearly on the wall before me. It was her perp rap! She said it to all of us in some form or another....it was not about me....We we all her victims. I did nothing to deserve this any more than any client of mine does anything to deserve any of the abuse they incur. None of it was the truth about me. Though it was directed at me personally it was not about me personally. All of the things she said to me were designed to give and keep her in power over me. And it worked. Oh did it work. She has been gone from my life physically for over fifteen years now...and only now does she NO LONGER have power over me. Because today it is done. For the first time since I was sixteen she is not in my head. I am free of her. I expect that there will be backsliding moments. I know this is not a miracle cure. But just for today, I am enjoying life without her and thanking God for endurance, patience and really good SDs!

In the moment when I knew, that fifteen year old part of me that has been stuck on the stairway rose and began walking. She walked away from G down the stairs and out of that school. She started dropping books and shedding things until she was as light as air. She walked and then she ran and she picked up speed until she was flying. She flew into God and she flew into my heart where at least at this moment she safely remains.

A Momentary Lapse in Joy

I am finding myself in a strange place tonight. An odd brew of emotions. I have been walking in joy for so long, and last night was such an amazing experience. The culmination of so much, coming for so long. I slept the best sleep I have had in a very long time and woke in such a peaceful place. The meditation on the Henri Nouwen website this morning spoke to me powerfully: Some people say: "Although some people have unique experiences of God's presence and, therefore have unique missions to announce God's presence to the world, all of us - whether learned or uneducated, rich or poor, visible or hidden - can receive the grace of seeing God in the fullness of time. This mystical experience, is not reserved for a few exceptional people. God wants to offer that gift in one way or another to all God's children." What struck me was the connection between experiencing God in what he referred to as mystical experiences and the responsibility for mission. Somehow this had never been quite so clear as it was today.

By noon though, I was crashing. Exhaustion was the first thing that hit. I decided I simply could not be present in any meaningful way at work, so I went home, hoping maybe I could nap or do some of the house sprucing that needs to get done for our church dinner party tomorrow night. Listlessness precluded either of those things. I blog hopped, did some desultory TV watching, wrapped a present or two, and finally, when the work hours had passed, went out and ran errands. The evening found me back at church dropping off some things. Finally, in the dark on the same altar where we so joyously celebrated so few hours ago I found myself crying in the dark. I felt a kind of loss, emptiness, bereftness...that sort of stunned me. I found myself wishing that I could be in the presence of a truly incarnated Jesus...that is enfleshed NOW...not one that was once so long ago...not one coming in our hearts again and and again...in song and story and symbol but here in the physical realm.

I have no idea where this is all arising from. I can't really get a handle on it...it's a complex mix....exhaustion I'm sure. I have not been sleeping well this week...largely from just too much joy and fizz! It may also be a little bit of post-excitement let-down. This thing, coming so long is done. And even though my rational adult self knows that done is simply begun on a new level, some primitive part of me feels bereft. And a lot has been let go of....there is some...vacancy I guess, some loss, even loss of that which is not good for us is still loss. And Dear One pointed out something interesting...that, historically, I do not allow myself to enjoy my "highs" for very long. Hmmmm. From Dear One's perspective at least, in the past I have tended to cut myself off prematurely from my "radiant" moments, and I may be doing it again.

I have even entertained the notion that it may be the presence of evil sneaking up on me...I'm not always so sure where I stand on the embodiment of evil, but it did occur to me as I sat in the dark church between tear storms, to wonder of this might be possible.

I am calmer now than when I sat in the dark church. My plan is to go to sleep very soon , to get up early and write a sermon for Advent 4. Then I'll prepare to entertain my Dinner Bunch and find my joy again. I know it is there. It is real, solid and certain and it has not gone far...this is just a little momentary departure. Regular programming will resume soon. I remain hopeful.

O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
Robert Burns

As is often the case when I am working on something in my life, God, with wisdom and often no small amount of humor provides me with these lovely learning opportunities. I mentioned in the Yurt post that my retreat was themed around self-forgiveness. This links up with the letting-go of the critical voices and embracing of authentic self that I have been doing as soulwork over the last several months. Recently I have been given some interesting opportunities to see myself as others see me. The information has been surprising and enlightening, but what has been transforming has been the grace to accept it as truth.

I had my review at work this week. These are usually not too stressful as my supervisor and I get along fine, and I know that if there were problems I would already know about them as she does not believe in using reviews to surprise people in that way. But I was taken aback by the level of her regard and things she conveyed. She told me, among other things that she was “proud” I worked here and thought that my public presence in the community was an asset to our center. She also compared me, rather humorously to E.F. Hutton, saying, “When Kate speaks, people listen.” She said that my coworkers tell her that because I don’t rant and rave about the stuff that people often go on about (too busy to notice, frankly), that when I do have a strong opinion about something, everyone kind of sits up and pays attention. She tells me that I have a great deal of respect from them, and carry a lot of power here. Whew! Not anything I ever went striving for, I’ll tell you. I was amazed, and … it made sense. Later, when I thought about what she said, I found myself thinking that she might be right. Who knew!?!

And then there were the sisters up at the yurt-farm. They asked me to be on the board of directors for the educational center they are developing. Reluctantly I declined due to the time thing. But to hear them describe the reasons they were asking me, the person they see in me…again, not the first attributes I would list in myself, but on reflection, again in the quiet of my soul a small affirming “yes, that too is me.”

Yesterday I was invited to coffee to meet the mother of one of the most conservative ministers in town. She is an Episcopal clergywoman, he is planting a Missionary Alliance church. He has been telling me that he wanted me to meet her when she came to town, and when we met, it became clear that he has been talking to her about me. With great respect. Oh my. Theologically we are on different planets. We have had conversations about this. In public. I laughingly told friends I witnessed to him in the coffee shop about the need to worry more about doing our co-creative work to bring about God’s kingdom here on earth than we do how many people are going to hell today.
And yes, this too is me!

One that really hit home for me happened just before I left for the Yurt last week. I do a therapy group at our short-term intensive treatment program. One of my own clients is in the group right now. We were talking about trust and how you become a more trusting person, opening yourself to life, living with less fear. Suddenly out of the blue, J said, “Kate, I know I’m probably not supposed to ask this, you’re not supposed to talk about yourself and all, but what’s it like?” “Excuse me?” I said, madly peddling for time. “What is it like for you?" she persisted. "You are like that, one of those people who lives with your heart open in compassion? What is it like?” Oh. My. Goodness. I don’t really know quite what I said. I know what was going on inside was an audible thunk of truth falling into place, that yes, that too, is who I am, at least most of the time these days. And when my heart closes up, I know it, and I usually know it’s because there is danger present.

A few weeks ago I was looking for something in an old journal. I ran across an entry from about ten years ago in which I described myself in some extremely critical, self-deprecating adjectives. What was really sad was that the tone of that rather horrifying rhetoric was very matter-of-fact. Kind of, “Oh well, this is the mess I am, guess I have to live with it.” It is clear to me in retrospect that there were reasons in that place and time that I had come to believe and accept those things about myself, as well as the fact that, thanks be to God, grace and good therapy, I have come a long, long way in no longer holding that negative and self-destructive view.

But the residue has remained, and has continued to rear up at times, especially under stress, like with the student, and in some other interpersonal incidents this year that have been, at the least distressing, and had the potential to be more destructive. So my soulwork has been about this. To identify and release the last holdouts, to peel away the false self and release the authentic created self. To be converted. To repent of seeing myself through other than God’s eyes.

My SD and I have been talking about doing something liturgical to mark this transformation, the release of the critical voices, the turn toward a more compassionate way of living with myself. Every month as we meet, my plan, my hope is that by “next time” I will have completed this, found language for prayer and ritual that captures this important rite of passage. With the demands on my time and energy is just hasn’t quite gotten there. It’s in bits and pieces and I keep having to say again and again, somewhat disappointedly, “well, maybe next month.” Feeling somehow I think that here was something else vitally important to me that was Not Gettting Done.

But I had forgotten something I know to be important. In healing, change and transformation, it is not an event that happens but a process that transpires. As with my clients who make the decision to confront someone who has abused them. The healing takes place as they work to prepare to do this. Often by the time comes, there is no longer even a need to do so, they have so resolved things in themselves, done that redemptive act that Countryman talked about. Oh we will do this. But it will be different now than it might have been had it arrived earlier in the process. To be truthful, I’m not sure yet what, or when, it will be. I’m releasing that a little too. The pieces that are complete have come easily and spontaneously, written themselves, really. I trust that Source. And when it comes, I think it might be a great celebration, because as Temple said “To adopt God’s viewpoint in place of your own…is the most joyful thing in the world because when you have done it you have adopted the viewpoint of truth itself, and you are in fellowship with God.”

Crosses

The “aha” I blogged about in my last post has been unwilling to let me go. It has in fact gotten wrapped around the idea of radical hospitality and how that is related to what Jesus calls us to in the Gospel and how that is playing itself out in my life. In an earlier post, I talked about feeling like I was finally getting a handle on the humility/humiliation confusion that has long dogged me. Part of the legacy of that struggle is that I tend to be profligate with my power in the presence of threat, real or perceived. Ever since the day so long ago when G stood over me and determined me lacking in some fundamental way, the minute I feel that someone has judged me and found me wanting, I go “one down” in some very scary and seemingly irredeemable ways, hand my power, my efficacy and authenticity over on a silver platter, and roll over into shame.

That is not a place from which I can offer hospitality of any sort, let alone the radical kind that Jesus is asking. That is not the place from which I can follow a call. It is not even a place from which I can authentically discern what is really going on, as from there everything is distorted. Benign shadows morph into terrifying shapes and the innocent or random acts of others become sinister and triggering.

This has happened enough in recent memory to be sort of consistently on the radar screen. It comes up in all sorts of different arenas. The incident with the student is the latest example. Without exception the reactions I have gotten when I’ve talked with people about her have been the ones I got from those of you who commented here. Sane, rational responses. It is likely her problem. Keep on doing what I am doing. Be kind but hold my ground. Look under her reaction. And I get this, I really do. With my head. From one perspective I can be kind of righteously indignant…I am after all the teacher, I know what I am doing, who does she think she is? And from another I can be compassionate, she is frightened of something, she is reacting in fear, I can offer reassurance. And I have been in both places, acted from both, they both feel good in their own way.

But here’s the deal. I cannot move on, I cannot let go of this thing. I cannot take back my power from this person whom my rational self knows to be more scared than I am. I niggle away at it in my brain, it haunts my dreams and keeps me sleepless in the dark hours, where I worry it into something that even I know is way bigger than it is.

I know that this is the old thing, this is the legacy, the enduring ruthless dogging, dare I name it….demon….that will not release me. It seems to be locked my cells, woven in my being. I do not know when or how I will finally be quit of it. My SD assures me that I will, that there is a way, with God’s help. I am trusting that. I need to. Because more and more I hear that piece about the radical hospitality….and this is in the way. And the stuff in the way is the stuff that has to go. Of all the possessions I have to give up, perhaps this one is the hardest to figure out how to part with. Perhaps this is the cross. At least for right now. Maybe that’s all I need to know. Maybe that’s enough for today.

AHA!

In a conversation with a therapist colleague yesterday about this teaching stress thing I had one of those aha moments. This one concerns the difference between therapy and spiritual direction.

When someone does something that trips your trigger:
In therapy, your therapist tells you to dig really deep. Get in touch with your anger. Do your work. Express your feelings, tell them how YOU feel.

In spiritual direction, your SD tells you to dig really deep. Get in touch with your compassion. Do God's work. Be concerned with how the OTHER feels. If you can, ask them.

Now I'm not saying one is better than the other. In truth, I'm very much a both/and kind of girl. It's just what's making me go "hmmmm" today.

Forecasting....

I have been a bit skittish about appearing on the yoga mat. The mat is one of the places where I have a no-holds-barred agreement with myself and the Spirit. No access denied. “I am open here,” I say, “do Your work.” I mean this. I want to be worked with, changed, transformed. To be healed, made new and born again. I want the chance to clear away all that is not true, all that is not authentic, all that would stand in the way of being who God created and calls me to be.

And mostly, I do my best to honor this agreement. I come with the intent to be open and conscious, present and willing. And certainly God has honored God’s part! The Spirit moves in powerful ways, particularly when given invitation and a conducive environment.

But I’m a little skittish this week. The storms of the weekend were fierce and persistent. A continuous steady drizzle and gloomy oppressive overcast dragged along with me into a week that cannot afford such things. There is just too much going on right now for a rain out. Sometimes there is a push to this soulwork, a timeliness not always of my choosing. Often things come in their own time to be healed. And sometimes it is simply the urge of my own impatience to be quit of these old demons once and for all. But when I grow impatient, or become afraid I will miss this chance to make things aright, I offer myself the comfort of what I know to be true. This is not the last chance, these opportunities to go deep, these offers of transformative, annealing passages return again and again. I know where the doorways of my soul are now. I hold the keys to the passageways, and my Guide holds the light at the ready. So perhaps then it is all right to be a bit reluctant – to genuflect only briefly into child’s pose, to choose a quick ablution of morning yoga rather than a deeper plunge. Because when the time is right, when I am ready, I am here, the mat is here, and God, I know, is always ready and waiting.

Confession

In an earlier post I had written about some of the experiences of confession that came from my very Catholic childhood. The morning after a rather intense session of spiritual direction, in which I was reminded once again that just because something is old does not mean it is done with you, this poem came almost whole with me from sleep.

Church at 9

Who the demon, who bedeviled?
Who the stalker, who the prey?
His the power of absolution.
unforgiven, drives away
weeping penitential victim.
Whose the penance yet to pay?

Notes to Myself

I need to keep reminding myself about practicing what I preach. Oh not in that sort of finger wagging, shaming way that phrase has been used “at” me sometimes. But as a gentle reminder about remaining in the practice of what I share with others about my understanding of a better way to do, to be. Staying in the moment. Staying awake. Being conscious. Not judging….myself or others…so harshly. Remembering that we are all mostly doing our best with what we know in the moment to move away from the pain and toward something that seems better. Breathing. Being with myself compassionately in whatever it is that is happening. Remembering that there is usually a third alternative, something between black and white, another choice, and if I can just NOT react, it will usually come to me. Remembering that mostly, yes, whatever is going on here, it is not about me personally.

Wherever You Go.....

The soulwork I have been doing around authenticity was triggered by a niggling sense of incongruence in myself. I kept saying that I didn’t feel like my insides and my outsides matched, and this created a sense of disconnect that was spiritually bothersome. My SD and I conversed about this at length! At first it seemed it was about my not measuring up to those inner critics who would demand I be perfect enough to be priest. Never mind that! When they got really riled they were demanding that I be perfect enough to deserve merely to inhabit space and breathe air. But thanks be to God and grace, I think I’m beginning to get it! Being congruent and authentic is about bringing this same, real self, as unencumbered as possible by masks and defenses, to all that is.

I had to testify in court yesterday. Of all the things that I do as a psychologist, this is one of my least favorite. Usually I am called as a witness in cases where one of my clients is about to lose rights to his or her children. This is always sad and there are no real winners, however it comes out. As I sat on the stand yesterday listening to the attorneys for both sides try to carefully craft their questions, it flashed through my mind that I was in a “witness” chair. How in this place could I give witness? Beyond the obvious of doing my best to give careful, honest, well-thought answers regarding my client’s situation, I thought, here might be a chance to dispel a stereotype, provide a moment of insight, and reduce someone’s ignorance about mental illness by just one tiny bit. Because this is all part of who I am. The psychologist, the priest, the teacher, each of those parts of me is not, as I say so often, one of my many hats, nor am I even someone who is bi- or tri- vocational but rather one who is simply “vocational.” Called. Called to live out the Gospel through the use of who I am, where I am in whatever role I happen to be serving in that day, in whatever way I can.

Soul Work and Surrender

About a month ago I offered God the opportunity to engage in some serious work with me on my soul and psyche. I had been frustrated with some very old issues that kept rearing their heads again and again in my life, and finally in desperation I decided to stop trying to do it all myself (as is my usual MO). I decided to stop trying so blasted hard to barge my way through this, to stop willing it to change, to stop struggling with myself so hard. I decided to try to relax with it a bit, take a deep breath and (gasp) surrender and see what God would do with the whole business and with me.

God seems to have taken me at my word, and God has been taking no chances with me getting the point! Rarely have I been beset with such serendipity, such a surfeit of synchronicity and apparent coincidence. Conversations, books that keeping leaping at me, random encounters with things on the internet (links to links to links), insights found while looking for other completely unrelated information, even things I overhear other people talking about, all center on the same theme, which “just happens” to be the one I have committed myself to, that of authenticity. Trying to bring my deepest, truest self to this endeavor of priesthood. Not some perfect person, someone who would be good enough, holy enough, perfect enough to be called priest. For this is what the chorus of critics in my head would have me think! But in my saner moments, I know this paragon is not who God called. God called the one she created in her own image as me, the me who is unencumbered by the masks and armor of false selves. The task of this time is to clear away that which is not true, that is not authentic, to gently allow all that is real to be birthed into being. To move away from anything that stands in the way of the priest God called me to be. I’ve been thinking about what it is I am called to leave by the side of the road in the quest to follow Jesus. It seems it is the masks and the armor of the false selves. What could be harder? What could I be more attached to? They have been the stuff of survival for so long. To step out in radical trust that I can live as that authentic being requires faith in God’s love at a soul level. And yet it is promised, that love. Jesus prayed that all may be one. I can’t help but wonder if some part of that prayer was about a kind of an internal oneness – a life without subterfuge, a totally authentic life like the one He lived. And I think again about the Incarnation discussion from last week, the great “both/and” Jesus showing us who we can be…..

Soul work is not for wimps. I am grateful for good people and good tools. Yoga is helpful. Breath, awareness, observing, practicing the balance of clear-seeing and equanimity, remaining conscious as much as possible, acceptance, non-judging. It is definitely a practice. And a process. And new life does grow here. Thanks be to God.