Choose Your Playmates Wisely

"While riding in a convertible bug I update my friends via iPhone that I will be eating sushi and choosing the varieties off a conveyor in seattle yes I am livin the life!" SB 7.15.10

I am in the midst of a grand adventure. My young charge, SB, (the 14 year old son of my husband's first cousin) and I are taking on Seattle like never before. Imagine combining the enthusiasm of a boy born in this fabulous city and transplanted to Bozeman, Montana with the delight and competitive nature of a grown woman who loves to play. Toss in the fact that he thinks I'm the coolest thing since sliced bread and I have four days to prove him right. What you get is a whirlwind of laughter, cheesy tours and pretty much nonstop activity.

We've been planning this trip for nearly two years. The excitement and disappointments have risen and dropped as plans were made, delayed & ultimately tickets purchased. When we chatted on the phone a few nights before his arrival and he gave me a list of things to do while adding a few of my own, I had to ask myself, "Am I up for the task?" It's a good thing I've been in physical training and consider myself in tiptop shape - little did I know this week would be the ultimate test of my stamina!
While I'd love to describe the extensive attributes of my young friend in great detail, let it suffice that he is a smart, engaging, kind of goofy, well-read, articulate, fun-loving kid. I hope he grows up to be the same! He's easy to be around, does not whine, tells you what he thinks, but also defers when I say, "Enough." (Now... his own mother might laugh at this description for she may not receive the full compliance I have, but I'm sure she will be proud to hear this as well she should be!)

Our adventures are numerous and I'd love to elaborate, but for the moment I will simply say "Life is grand." Today offers a bit slower pace - I'm taking my buddy to yoga (a first for him), we'll probably stop off for Starbuck's, maybe grab a little lunch, visit American Eagle, hop a bus down to Seattle Center where we will visit the Pacific Science Center before our 5:00 p.m. reservation for the IMAX theatre... and that's a slower day. I have to say, it felt a bit of a victory last night when he blinked his heavy eyes first and headed for bed before I.

It's been a long time since I've played with this level of intensity... I'm not sure which one of us is having the better time. SB keeps expressing his gratitude for the adventures and attention, but this girl is immensely grateful too! I love playing and find great satisfaction with my own antics most of the time, but this is a whole new level. Like I said, Life is Grand.

I hope you can take the opportunity to play today. Who would you choose for your playmate?

What We Already Know

Did I ever tell you about my Hawaiian labyrinth experience? Perhaps not because it kind of fits into one of those categories of inexplicable. It was a journey even getting there. Recommended by my friend and fellow spiritual director, Mary Ellen, we (six adult family members) were on a mission to find the Sacred Gardens in Maui. (In reality, my sister and I were on the mission - the rest were more or less agreeable to join in the adventure.)

Upon arriving at the gardens, we were greeted by their giant guardian angel, Bodie. His joyful presence occupied the dog lovers with 150 pounds of slobbering puppy love. The gardens, book store and two labyrinths nestled into the center of this tropical island were entertainment enough for the rest of the gang.

When I finally made my way outside to the path surrounded by tropical forest, a fellow traveler had already started his walk. Rather than crowd him, I waited until he reached the center and began his trek out. For a few minutes we traversed the gravel pathway together, moving in and out along the sacred road. While I was only mildly aware of his presence, there came a moment when he stopped at the edge of the circle, paused and then stepped out. In that split second, I felt a noticeable shift in the energy around me - not good, not bad, just different. The labyrinth was now all mine.

Walking with gentle steps, I became aware of light raindrops touching my bare skin. There was something fresh and new about the drops sifting through the green foliage, while contented birds sang in tune with my every step. Not being one to let a little water slow me down (it is, after all, my word for the year), I continued my pilgrimage. The rain persisted and picked up speed as I realized I would soon be soaking wet (having only just dried out from the morning's beach combing.) That was when the second angel appeared - Eve, (appropriately named in this garden of Eden) the proprietress, silently offered me a giant umbrella to help keep me dry.

Striped bumbershoot in hand, I continued my walk toward center. Upon arrival, I found the rest of the world had slipped away. I wasn't aware of anyone or anything except the present moment. Time stood still. As I tipped my head back to peek from beneath my shelter, the rain slowed down to the pace creation. I could see each drop appearing, one by one. And as I felt my whole being stretching upward, I experienced the hands of God reaching for my own - forming the drops of moisture out of thin air and pouring them into the being that is me. Aaahhhhhh. Yes, time stood still.

There are moments in a lifetime, I believe, that cause a molecular shift in your whole being. Even though they may drift in and out of conscious memory, they are embedded in who I am - in who you are. Currently, I am reading about Yoruba religion (a new one for me). In this tradition, Yoruba wisdom speaks of "recalling what we already know within." While I cannot adequately describe with words, I know that standing in the center of the Sacred Garden's labyrinth was one of those moments of "recalling."

How about you? Have you ever experienced moments of recalling what you already know deep within?

For my "official" review of God is Not One, visit here Monday, April 26 when I’m featured on the TLC Book Tour.

Bodie & Sacred Gardens © h3 images - artwork currently on display here and here.

Guilt or Gratitude?

It’s a surreal experience, sitting in an aluminum tube looking out the window from 30,000+ feet to witness only vast expanses of water while knowing this morning I left my Seattle home where it was dark and rainy and by late afternoon, I will be feeling the warmth of the Hawaiian sun. My husband sits beside me listening to an i-pod and reading his Kindle. My daughter and her friend behind us with their manicured nails fiddling on assorted gadgetry to keep them busy. We indeed live a privileged life and at this very moment I am trying to feel gratitude instead of guilt.

My own reading topic of the moment is a book called Trauma Stewardship by Laura Van Dernoot Lipsky, and it is what prompted this post.

“I went shopping last week for a pair of shoes, and I thought to myself, “What kind of person would go shopping for a pair of shoes right now?” Community activist, New Orleans, nine months after Hurricane Katrina

As I read the above quote, I was filled with flashbacks of the last few weeks. As I mentioned in this post, I have spent lots of time working with individuals (myself included) who struggle with “good fortune” and “privilege” particularly in light of the recent devastation in Haiti. A few days ago, I had virtually the same thought: How can I be going to Maui when people are buried under rubble in Haiti? Never mind that the trip was planned months before the recent earthquake. Our thoughts don’t always make sense do they?

Lipsky says it is a common experience of caregivers to feel guilt over the disparity between our lives and the lives of those we serve. I felt a twinge of this same guilt yesterday as my co-facilitator and I finished up our weekly session of Deepening Spirituality through SoulCollage® at the Recovery Café. Our class represents a variety of participants, many who live on the margins of poverty. So when my friend prompted me to tell the participants that I would be absent next week, I felt a slight twinge of guilt. I announced my absence and they quickly replied with “Where are you going??!?!” I hesitated a beat, breathed in and exhaled, “Maui.” “Maui?!? Are you kidding? Lucky you! We hate you. No fair. Teachers aren’t supposed to play hooky!” The good-natured barrage continued until I finally laughed, “Hey, sorry guys, I’m going and I’ll see you when I get back.” They responded playfully and I realized we were having an authentic encounter that brought us closer than ever in our humanity. It turned into a magically sweet moment and my resolve to not downplay my trip, but to send them a postcard and let them know I really was thinking of them.

Lipsky goes onto say when we downplay our own good fortune, we distance ourselves from others by not being genuine, and ultimately begin “to experience our own life with less abundance and joy than we truly feel.”

All of these moments fit into my primary pondering category of self-care leading to good care of others. My husband and I both declared a night or two ago that we are really tired. It’s been a stressful few months and we need to recharge. Yes, we are fortunate and can afford a plane ticket and a week in a nice condo – but in my heart I take along those with whom I work and know that I will be a better caregiver for this respite.

So, I’m curious – do you ever find yourself downplaying your good fortune? What is the impact for you? Do you feel better or worse? Does it bring you closer to others or increase the distance? And what of ‘authentic encounter’? How has it expanded your view of humanity?

Well, this may be the deepest (or only) thought you get out of me for a few days. Who knows? I’m off to recharge and setting aside my guilt for the time being. ☺

Aloha!

rainbow over honolulu © lucy 2.11.10

first glimpse of maui © lucy 2.11.10

Following the Thread

It's late and my mind is full. Today was day one of my SoulCollage® facilitator training. I should be in bed sleeping and actually had the lights turned out, but this poem kept stirring inside me. I read it a couple of days ago, but was reminded of it again today as I stood in a circle of new friends and we wove together a net of comfort and safety. Over the next few days, we will not only be learning about the art of SoulCollage® facilitation, but also weaving together the different aspects of our own lives that come to surface through card making. I am filled with great anticipation for this adventure.

The Way It Is

There's a thread that you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn't change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can't get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time's unfolding.
You don't ever let go of the thread.

--William Stafford

Today was yet another day in holding onto the thread of this life I call mine.

"fantasy" by lucy

calling to me

The following post was written yesterday after hastily pulling over to the side of the road. Very little editing has been done, so please bear with me. Some things just need to be recorded.

“I keep calling to you my baby blue, my baby blue.” --John Hiatt*

The sense of my father being with me this week is near overwhelming. Daddy died more than 30 years ago and while I still hold him dearly in my heart, he does not often enter into my daily thoughts—at least to the extent I am now experiencing. Driving down Hwy 101 near the Umpqua Lighthouse, I have had to pull over as there are tears streaming down my face for no apparent reason. The flow started while listening to John Hiatt’s song, “Baby Blue” which just showed up on my I-Pod song shuffle. None of this makes any sense right now, but the connection to my long-deceased father is undeniable for me.

The recent ‘sense of my father’ began three days ago when my friend in Tiburon reminded me that he had promised to look up some Naval records for my dad. I quickly e-mailed my sister who is the current keeper of the family records and asked for the submarine information of Daddy. She put her fingers on the info immediately and responded to me quickly. Lo and behold that very day was our father’s birthday. Coincidence? I think not.

Today as I drove along the highway, I came across the Oregon Dunes that I did not realize even existed. There upon the sand were several dune buggies and I was immediately transported back to the days when I learned to drive and I used to go to the river bottom with Daddy and play in our dune buggy. I found myself wanting to rent an ATV and tool across the sands like I did a zillion years ago. My father was clearly present with me.

As I continued my route, I began to think about my last few days of driving. I am driving in a little VW convertible which is a newer version of the car I drove when I was 16 (a car I 'shared' with my dad.) I again am reminded of my father and that his final occupation in life was as a long distance truck driver. His blood runs through my veins. Yesterday I came to the conclusion that I really don’t like to make little stops here and there. I like to get in the car and GO. Yesterday I drove for several miles with my jacket on because I was not at a place where I wanted to stop and pull over. It reminds me of the years we drove back and forth between Oklahoma City and San Diego where my father’s family lived. Very few stops along that route!

Ah, San Diego. I realize now that the calling from my father began before his birth date on August 20. This road trip was originally conceived as a time to visit with my brother. Looking at a map, I found that San Diego is equidistance between Seattle and Bellville Texas where my brother lives. Curious that this place where my family lived before I was born (when my father was in the Navy) would be the place where I ‘coincidentally’ hoped to reconnect with my brother. Alas, he was unable to accept the invitation and thus the baby road trip was born.

Needless to say (for me at least), my father has been speaking to my subconscious for quite some time. I wonder what he is trying to say? I wonder what I shall learn from this? The sea calls to me. My father was a sailor. The road calls to me. He was a truck driver. “Baby Blue” calls to me. I was his “baby.” I am a grown woman now, but I am still his little girl. He died nearly 33 years ago on September 12, 1975. He would have been 89 years old last Wednesday.

*just a little aside…when I went to research these lyrics this morning, the first thing that popped up was john hiatt’s birthdate. August 20. btw—my father’s name is John. ☺