Dispelling the Shadow

Our age has sought to bring equality to the fore as no age before it. We have sought out shadows and fought to bring light. We have set up models, glorified leaders, and proclaimed our heroes.

One shadow still remains; the shadow that covers every human soul and is in need of healing: the shadow of woundedness.

Woundedness doesn’t speak to glory, but rather to struggle. Yet, in all the ways that we are similar, nothing unites us more than that fact that each of us has been wounded.

But what are those wounds? For some of us, it is hurtful events in life, betrayals of those who should have loved us, forgetfulness of those who call themselves our friends. Unimaginable losses.

Those wounds are more able to heal than the ones we forget. We read  in Sirach 24:21 of those wounds, as it says You who eat of me will hunger still, you who drink of me will thirst for me. It is as if we are being told that no matter what we accomplish, we will still have needs, we will still have emptiness, we will still want. And in our attempts to satisfy those wants, we often compromise. We often settle for the lesser satisfaction rather than find the deeper fulfillment. I believe it is this compromise that makes up most of our woundedness.

Only when we remember our woundedness can we truly stand together. Because when I remember this wound within myself, caused by my own decisions, can I have the understanding and compassion that accepts another's wounds. Only then does tolerance turn into empathy and acceptance of another. Only when I am aware of my own fragility will I allow another to have theirs.

Learning a new identity

From my journal:

"Today is Wednesday the 6^th of May 2015

I’m driving home. And I am playing the Shenandoah music. And, as I listen to the Shenandoah music, I was thinking of Marti and my visit last week in the Shenandoah Valley, and how much fun we had. And then I thought of the comments she made to me. She asked me if I had gone to a different monastery maybe I would have stayed and I said, “No, I think if I had gone to different monastery, when I said I don’t think I could live this life they would have respected that and let me leave." 

And then later on when we were hiking, she started to say something about “we nuns” and then she said, “Well, you are not a nun, I am.” And when she said that it kinda caught me off guard. And, I had to stop and think, well, that’s part of my problem, I forget I’m not a nun anymore. Because when you’ve been a nun that long, it’s hard not to identify with certain aspects of being a nun, like dedication, and love for God, and consecration. I don’t know what else.

So when we were in D.C. and the Dominican House of Studies was across the road, I was going to go over to see it. And then I reminded myself that I am not a Dominican any more. It’s not my family any more. Yea, I was part of it for a long, long time. It really isn’t my family anymore. I don’t have to keep clinging to these concepts and ideas, and identity. It is very hard to let the identity, the consecrated soul, the monastic, go.

And I also thought about the fact that for me, I feel like I am still consecrated. And I know I am. I am still consecrated. I’m still dedicated. I’m still living for God alone. For those who are still in religious life, I’m gone. I’m no longer one of them. And that’s another aspect of life I’ve got to get used to and I’ve got to accept and I’ve got to realize this truth. I’m not one of them anymore.

If they want to feel that I’m outside of their unique little “club” as you might call it, that’s okay. Because I’m not part of the unique little club. 

I have stepped forth to the broader ways of life. And though I lived that way for a long, long time, 30 years is not a small amount of time, I need to find a way to accept who I am now. My new identity….

For Love of a Song

It was just a tune. But as the notes played out of my car stereo, my mind caught them and memories were triggered.

I found myself standing on the monastic gravel road behind the community work room. The summer sun felt warm on my skin as the grass stood tall and dry along the side of the road. The pine tress filled the air with their scent. I lifted my eyes heaven ward and saw the deep blue sky holding its white, puffy, clouds gently so they could drift lazily across the vast horizon. I could see across the valley to the ridge on the other side, a valley filled with pine trees.

The monastery sound system was in the midst of playing a select array of pieces, one particularly moving to my heart and soul. It blared far and wide across the valley. It was recreation period, the time we could talk and share. I had decided to go outside and take a walk on the monastery grounds. Nature most healed my soul, and the music reminded me of my purpose being here. That reminder afforded me the strength I needed to live this most challenging and rewarding life. 

It was this music that kept me so long in a life I was not well suited for. My struggles were daily for almost 30 years. But each time we intoned a hymn, chanted the psalms, or played music, I would find heart and decide I could live this demanding life. More, I decided that without the life, I would not have the liturgical flavor to my life, and my life would be less.

This love for the rhythm of life kept me longer than it should have. When I finally made the decision to leave, I grieved many a day for the loss of the rhythm, the inspiration it offered, and the atmosphere it created.

So as I sit here today in my car, listening to the same powerful hymn coming unexpected from my stereo, my spirit joins that spirit from my past. Powerful emotions rock my soul, and it is hard to pull back to reality.

I grieve.

Yet, I recognize that I have accomplished much in the 15 years since I chose to move through an open door that led to many new blessings and accomplishments. I was truly blessed by God as one door after another opened in what can only be called the sign of God's blessings on my decision.

And still, there are times I yearn for those past monastic experiences, as if the memory selectively forgets the pain and only remembers the good.

It is good to remember the good. It is important to remember the whole picture.

I know how hard it is to move on from a place you love, but is also destructive for you.

I struggled to move on. And I have. Everything has been improved, beyond my ability to explain. I would not change my choice one second. I am double blessed by God.

And yet, there are moments when I still grieve.

A Wake Up Call

We all have our fantasies. It helps to have something or someone bring us back to reality.

I find this in psalm 34.  It reads

The Lord confronts the evildoers, 
to destroy remembrance of them from the earth.
When the just cry out, the Lord hears them,
and from all their distress he rescues them.

That is the kind of God I've wanted. I want a God who confronts those who do evil, and destroys their remembrance from the face of the earth.

But in my experience, God does not do that. At least, not that often. Not as often as I would like.

And so, further along that same psalm, we read:

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted;
and those who are crushed in spirit he saves.
Many are the troubles of the just person,
but out of them all the Lord delivers.

It's as if we are shown our fantasies, and then the reality of life.

That reality is not easy to accept. We will be broken. We will be in distress. None of us wants that.

When I serve individuals with struggles, I tell them in that first session that I cannot remove all of their struggles. I can only offer them tools so they can handle it better. I can walk with them as they process injurious incidents and heal.

I can see that God promises me the same. God does not give me my fantasies. God will not protect me from all the injurious incidents in life. God only promises to be close to me when I am brokenhearted or crushed in spirit.

That's why it is important to support one another. We have each experienced some form of pain and disappointment. It can be from partners, children, or friends. Life happens.

And when it does, it helps to have someone close who empathizes. It helps to have a friend who listens. Because such a person can help us heal and not be destroyed.

True change comes from within

Photo taken by Jerry Gracey

The Kingdom of Heaven is Within you, says Luke 17:21. I think of this as I see the turmoil surrounding our present candidates seeking election and the blatant disrespect going on around both campaigns. I wonder what has happened to us as a country.

As a mental health professional, I am troubled at what I see unfolding before us.

I think of the words of Luke, to look within. When I do, I am reminded of the things I really value, like honesty, courage, and dignity.

These values makes me look towards true leaders, those who have shown me by example more than by words or promises. Those individuals lived their values, not needing words or speeches to tell me what they stood for. When those individuals did speak, I trusted them, because I could see their words came from reflection, not from a desire for power or fame.

The most powerful words ever given to me came from such a seeker and believer who quoted the words from John 8:32 Seek the truth and the truth will set you free.

As I reflect, I remember how these words changed my life.

Before that time, I followed what others told me was true. I accepted other's reflection on my conduct or my destiny. I trusted because I was told that was the right thing to do, to let others who had the authority, the experience, the leadership, lead me to the place where I was suppose to be because they knew better.

But they were wrong. They did not lead me to a good place. I realize now that I was being led out of my inner Kingdom of God, taught to distrust the voice within my soul. Such advice left me wounded and struggling. It made me dependent on others. It kept me from inner growth and insight.

The words to seek the truth and the truth will set you free came from an individual who refused to make choices for me. A leader herself, she taught me to hear and trust the voice within. To do that, I had to return to that empty spot where that kingdom of God needed growing. I had to learn how to discern what was the voice of God and what was the voice of fear. I had to believe that making a mistake is not the worst thing you can do in life. Failing to act because you fear making a mistake is.

Such leadership empowered me. The scared little self grew, and I began going inward for God more and more. I learned to speak less and listen more. I learned to recognize the voice of God within.

Seek the truth and the truth will set you free.

 If this political climate is foggy, maybe we need to turn inward more.

Maybe we need to grow that Kingdom of God within. Without words. By listening.

Is your spirituality hurting you?

I confess, I am a proponent of spirituality. I believe it helps us in invaluable ways: believing in something bigger than yourself helps you feel grounded. It gives you direction in life. And it helps you find meaning in a world where there is plenty of confusion and pain.

Yet, over and over again, I meet with individuals whose spirituality is more of a roadblock than a guide. And I confess, I have used it that way myself.

Here's what I've learned from my own experience. I had safety in religion and the guidelines it offers. It told me what I should believe, and how I should conduct myself. I liked that, because it offered security and stability.

But then came a point where it failed to be true in all circumstances of my life, leaving me with unanswered questions.

I had to be disillusioned before I would risk stepping further. I had to stop using my beliefs as a shield, and begin questioning, seeking answers not given to me by religion or past beliefs.

As I reflect on this journey, I realize that spirituality should be something that grows beyond the groundedness we feel in a certain belief or religion. If I do not grow, then I have let religion and spirituality be a shield instead of a journey.

Just something to think about.

I am loved

I think this quote from the letter of John surpasses most other quotes:

"In this is love; not that we have loved God, but that God loved us."

This thought of God's love strengthens me as I journey through life. I also find that this thought does not automatically bring comfort. 

For one, I find that God's love sometimes spells disaster. Think of the gospel stories: The Magi were content people until they met Jesus. After their visit they had to flee for their lives for fear of Herod. Mary and Joseph, too, seem quite normal people until Jesus comes along. Their first act was to flee into Egypt because of the threat of death.

Even in our own lives, how many times has loving God caused more trials than we would have undergone otherwise?

So, I have to stop and think. And my thought is, God's love is not some superficial happiness. God's love helps effect a deepening of our spiritual lives. And that requires us to strip off all that is false and shallow so that we can be more authentic.

When I strip, I discover something new, something hidden, something I would not have seen otherwise. This is how God's love works....God would have us leave off the empty show of words and deeds and stand tall in our own truth. When I strip off the false, I stand naked just as I am. And I can only do this if I am convinced of God's love.

Carlos Ezpiroz Costa writes in contemplation we see in light what others can not see. Jesus brings always-Light. Our first real glimpse of ourselves is quite frightening-and we will suffer shock until we come to accept our own reality. This is why it is important to remember that God has already loved us, in full knowledge of our true selves, long before we know it ourselves.

Finding Peace in Unanswered Prayer

This morning's scripture passage is from the first letter of John, and I quote: "We receive from God whatever we ask..."

I wonder what John is speaking of, as I know of no one who receives from God whatever she asks.

I, for one, have lived with many unanswered prayers. Not just from today, but from yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. In fact, I have a lifetime of unanswered prayers. From years and years of asking. From years and years of needs.

I look at all of these unanswered prayers and think, what does it say about me? What does it say about my God?

It says that life is full of mystery. When confronted with unanswered prayer, I have to rethink my faith, and my prayer. I am reminded that life is full of unknowning.

Take unanswered prayer. It taught me a new kind of silence.

I learned silence in the monastic life. In the beginning, I only practiced the silence imposed by the rule. I thought that kind of silence would bring me to contemplative prayer.

Then came difficult times, and a series of unanswered prayer. When you are a cloistered nun, and your whole life is given over to prayer, to experience unanswered prayer is to question everything you say you believe in. It challenges the very life you live.

I came to a point where I had to give up asking. One can endure unanswered prayer for only so long. So I stopped asking. I became silent. A silence imposed by God's silence. A silence that came from darkness. My unanswered prayers evolved into not knowing what to say.

In that darkness, in that silence, I learned a new kind of prayer. I learned mystery. I learned the prayer that listens.

Sitting before God in a stance of listening gave me a new relationship with God. I accepted my unknowing and accepted uncertainty. I recognized that some darkness is really mist from the clouds I walk through as I reach a new horizon. I learned to be happy with less. I found inner peace because I was not placing demands upon myself and on God. Demands made through my prayers.

And so, I learned not to be so concerned about unanswered prayer and be more concerned with listening. Because as we reach new horizons, we find we need less. And in the spiritual world, less really is more. More peace. More contentment. More mystery. 

Not Afraid to Risk

Getting stuck. I would suspect that each one of us feels "stuck" at some point in life. If we are self-aware. If we are conscious about our journey.

Recently a friend of mine said her life needed a change. She was "stuck" with the changing laws of her state and unable to jump through the "hoops" she had to to remain independently employed.  She did her research and realized that there were no easy solutions. After much thought and deliberation, she decided to do the hard thing, to take a huge risk in order to find a better life. She did, and it was good.

I suspect that most of us come to a point (maybe even several times) in our lives when we feel "stuck," where there is no easy solution. It can be financial, as it was for my friend. It can be emotional. Or it can be spiritual. In any case, the problem is, where we are or what we have done up to now is not working.

It takes practice to take a risk. And in that, I think sometimes our faith works against us. I have seen a spirituality that encourages us to hand over our decision making, especially in spiritual matters, to those in the church. The message is we cannot be trusted, as if any mistake we might make would be catastrophic. Sad. Because to truly be on a journey means to take risks and knows mistakes. And a spiritual life that is not fraught with insecurities, disillusionment, and confusion offers little chance of practicing faith, hope and trust.

I hope to continue to take risks as I journey forward, to not be afraid to be on an unknown path, to be able to live with my fear until it changes into security.

I pray that you too will be willing to take the risks that you need to so that your life may be more full. May this be part of our new year 2016.

This Year, find Gutsy

Tomorrow is the Feast of Epiphany. I've always thought of it as journey, as light shining through the darkness, as revelation. And it is all of those things. But something else is on my mind this morning as I sit here and write.

I was told repeatedly in the monastery, "Face fear, and fear will go away." I've lived by that quote for most of my life. And I can say that to some extent, it was/is good advice.

But I've learned another quote, one I like even more.

Am I gutsy enough to be afraid?

Or am I constantly trying to convince myself that I am not? Maybe being afraid is not the worst thing I can suffer. Maybe the worse is running from my fear, or pretending I am not.

Think about it. When you are not gutsy enough to be afraid, what happens? I've seen people isolate as they run from fear. I've seen others turn inside themselves to the point that they forget others. And I've seen some who race for distractions to the point that make it hard for them to connect to others.

And that, I do not want to be.

That brings me back to the Magi from scripture. Who says traveling into foreign countries with so much uncertainty did not produce some fear? They even got lost and had to stop to ask for directions. And they traveled, not enlightened by the sun, but following a new star that evidently no one else in the whole wide world realized was very important.

Talk about uncertainty. Talk about being gutsy.

So that is what I am hoping for this New Year. The ability to be gutsy. To accept those things that make me uncertain or afraid. And to carry that with me until I too am enlightened and freed.