That's Love

I was in a women’s self-defense class, clad in knee pads and elbow cushions, hidden behind a full helmet with a face cage.  We students looked ready for a roller derby, anxious and hesitant; though our soon-to-be physical contact with our teacher, the aggressor, was in no way a sport.  Our attire was light compared to that of our instructor, who donned pads and protections over most of her body in preparation for our forceful defense to simulated attacks.

As I stood on the sideline, nervously awaiting my turn, I watched our leader offer her skill, focus, body and determination to give us the chance to learn how to claim our space, our worth, our freedom to be.  She lumbered around, bite plate intact, commanding an outfit resembling the Michelin tire man, receiving blows, shouts, head butts and shoves to give us confidence, awareness, insight and options.

Our teacher/aggressor came to this work as a forensic nurse.  Having witnessed the result of violent crimes towards hundreds of women, ages 6 months to 96 years, she gathered her hard-earned wisdom to help transform society,  person by person.  This nurse, whose heart could have fully hardened from the world she observed in her days, opened herself to teach, to face reality and practice hope.

That’s love.

When we gather our vulnerability, our pain, our fear and yet choose to give, to share and affirm others, we manifest love.  When we teach because we have learned, when we embrace because we have needed holding, when we welcome our days because they are before us, we are practicing love.

That’s not something I expected to learn that evening.  But the lesson was there, and a blessing to behold.

Steadiness of Being

We really have two basic choices: to be ourselves, or not to be ourselves. It’s not about whether we are a success or failure, nor whether we are approved by others or better

or worse than others. It’s about coming to a true understanding of ourselves and finding the integrity therein.

This is far easier said than done. In fact, it is a lifelong endeavor. Integrity takes practice, affirmation, and courage … especially in a society that invites “presentation” and glamour. Integrity reflects our inborn truth, something that we assume, more often than not, is not good

enough to “get ahead” or “get noticed.” It is also something that is discouraged, because it challenges others to find their own integrity; an often difficult and vulnerable revealing.

When I am not myself, I am comparing myself to others, wondering how I rate or impress.  When I am not centered on my own truth, I am projecting outward, manifesting shame or blame, self righteousness or victimhood. In short, when choosing not to be myself, I am rating my value by chasing external affirmation. When we each do this, we end up chasing each other around, controlled by projection and judgment – ours and others. 

One way out of the cycle of judgment is into generosity.  When we give of ourselves, we find a steadiness of being. The success of the moment comes from a true interchange rather than control of other. It’s a delicate balance between self affirmation and love of other, a

balance that can be tested, tried and trained in a faith community like UUFHC. As we give and receive from one another, as we come together and bless each other’s

journey, we encourage a deeper honesty and an experience

for life in its abundance. 

(excerpted from the october 2010 UUFHC newsletter)

A Challenge of Heart

What a strange task: to cuddle my children into independence.  The embrace and 

affirmation help them feel secure and self assured, encouraging them to explore 

the world.  

What a strange, heart challenging enterprise: daring a close bond to launch a 

separate life, giving a steadfast love to assure a strong leave-taking.

Would I give up the hugs? No.  Yet each one creeps closer to an empty nest.  

And that is at it should be. 

Blessings Be.

Grace Happens

More than 20 years ago, while living in Manhattan, I experienced an encounter that stays with me to this day. I was crossing 6th Avenue during lunch hour on 23rd street. Sixth Avenue is a wide one-way street, spanning four car lanes and two bus lanes. When the traffic is moving, it creates a formidable wall of rushing vehicles.

As I was crossing the street, I passed a woman who was moving slower than I was, and, by my calculations of the blinking "Don't Walk" sign, I knew that she was not going to make it to the curb before the lights changed. I also noticed a cab driver on the far corner lane who was filling out a chart, unaware of the woman. Without thinking, I stood in front of the taxi. My sudden change of motion caught the driver's attention. I pointed to the woman who was close to entering his forward field as the light changed. The sea of cars surged forward beside us. Startled, he acknowledged to me that he would wait her out. The woman saw that she was safe and I simply moved on.

This happened very quickly, without fanfare—a simple moment before getting on with the day. I took three steps on the curb and was suddenly aware of a peculiar draft of air. I stopped again, surprised by the shift in atmosphere. It seemed to gently surround me, creating a stillness, a kind of tender embrace, even in the midst of the lunch hour bustle.

The sensation felt like a hand passing through me, gently calming all the molecules of my being, communicating a well being and ultimate logic—a universal love that transcends the words I am using.
At the time, I thought of it as a message—an affirmation—for the direction I was taking, for the direction I was going was far different than the course I had been on. I needed to feel affirmed —truth be told—because I was moving out of free lance film production to ministry—a counter-intuitive leap, an unlikely choice.

So, frankly, I personalized the moment—I gave it a storyline to fit my ego need.
In retrospect, I see it still as an affirmation, but not one individually directed at me, exactly, nor any kind of confirmation of my worth or designation or choosing from "above." It was merely a moment when I was open enough, when my will aligned with the grace that permeates the world.

(exerpted and slightly adapted from a sermon delivered at UUFHC -- sermon archive: http://www.uufhc.net/)

I like to thank the lifeguard

I like to thank the lifeguard when I am done swimming laps.  Without her or him, I would not have that gift of safe keeping.  Without the gratitude I would tend to take the vigilance for granted and add to the isolation of the job.

I like to be grateful for the opposing team of a game played or watched.  Without them there would be no game at all – no opportunity to play – no way to improve team skills.  Without the gratitude I could take myself or the outcome way too seriously, projecting the “opposition” as adversaries beyond the exercise.

I like to share a gratitude for my husband in some way each morning and to hear his gratitude for me.  Any observation is welcome with no judgment or expectation.  This discipline of gratitude helps the flow of our days, we’ve found, for negative dramas thrive when gratitude is scarce.

Meister Eckhart gave the gift of his offering that “if the only prayer you ever say in your life is thank you, it will be enough.”

Try it.  Write a thank you note.  Discern a gratitude.  For it can be found anywhere, anyhow, any time.

Why Church?

If you had told me twenty-five years ago that I would be a minister, I would have dismissed the notion out of hand.  I had not attended church regularly for some fifteen years before I decided to go to Seminary, and the thought of going back to church at that time, frankly, seemed a downside of becoming a minister.   Now, eighteen years into parish ministry, I remain intrigued by the special attraction that a faith community has for so many people.  I, for one, am glad it is a part of my family’s life.

At first I justified the worth of church as a tool for social change, a way to manifest the better world we are all capable of.  That is an aspect of what we do together, but it is not what makes faith communities vital to the health of the world.  What can make a faith community vital to the health of the world is the opportunity it gives each individual to connect with their own inner knowing, with each other’s journeying lives and with the flow of ideas and creativity that foster wisdom, love of life and gratitude.  Church community is not about what we have done, it is about what we have made possible, what we inspire, what we embrace.  And we do this by showing up, by living our lives together, by risking our love.  That’s the energy the world needs.  Once that connection is made, the healthy world we so yearn for, the good works we expect to manifest, will naturally come into being. 

So may it be.

Finding ground

In order to endeavor to calm my busy mind, I use various meditations, both physical and mental.  The one I used this morning on the labyrinth path is one that helps me center into the day.  It was originally inspired by the wonderful contribution of John O'Donohue's writings.  An irish poet and theologian who died too soon, O'Donohue offers astoundingly beautiful perspectives on life and the Divine.  Do check him out if you do not know him.  A treasure.

One sensibility that he brings forth is that we are inspirited clay, we humans....we are nature and spirit combined...embodied life.  So, as I was walking some time ago, I thought of these words.  They work best for me when I am walking:

I am grateful for Earth
       knowledge of growth and transformation
             wisdom of being and interdependence
                   manifesting, responding Earth
I am of earth.

I am grateful for Sky
     knowledge of space and eternity
           wisdom of breath and interconnectedness
                  ever present, all encompassing Sky
I am of sky.