Timeless Truth

Slowly, slowly I am revisiting my desert journals and bringing the pages to light. The following words were written the day after climbing Mt. Sinai while continuing our visit at St. Catherine's Monastery.

9.27.10 Early morning

Time does strange things here, and we haven't even gone into the raw wilderness yet. We lie wrapped in cocoons of comfort - warm beds, air-conditioning, a roof over our heads. We are wandering, yet... Something ties us here. What? What do I mean? Let go. I'm tied to my watch and the sense of a certain number of hours of sleep I need. I am tied to the group and the roommate who sleeps beside me. Tied to the convention of the world - the rhythms of others.

I awoke sometime during the night and thought it was morning - thought my roommate was already up and in the shower. I felt rested and ready to start the day. Then I looked at my watch and saw it was still the middle of the night, so I "knew"/thought I should go back to sleep. A similar thing happened the night before. I awoke feeling as though I had slept for hours and realized it had been maybe one or two. Am I so stuck by conventions of time and space? What does it take to let go?

What does all this mean? In Paris, I found my own rhythms - some nights I watched movies until the wee hours. Others I slept early in the evening. Yesterday, a quick nap after climbing Mt. Sinai felt like ten hours of hard sleep. Is that the timelessness of which we speak? Where the telling of a story days before combines with the clicking of hiking sticks to become weaver's needles and our pilgrims' steps of today merge with centuries of others' who have gone before? Did our climbing footsteps encounter the imprint's of Moses? Was my hand holding the palm of an ancient Egyptian or perhaps even God herself when I pressed my fingers into the stone inside the pyramid?

The messages are myriad. Can I decipher them or am I called to let the mystery be? What is truth? Truth comes in moments. It came when I looked into the eyes of the Sinai Christ and know he beckons me. When my fellow pilgrim hours later described the same experience and in one moment we know and we are known. Truth comes when I hear our prayer warrior describe her call for us to have the angels lift us up when we are weary and I remember and know those angels were there. Truth arises when our resident yoga master subtly mentions @ Camelot - "Do you know why camel pose is called camel pose? It's not only for the hump, but also for the kneeling," and then I share with her my "camel" journey over the past months - struggling, breathing,being curious and ultimately having two beautiful camel poses the week before this trip. In that moment, she knows why she said those words to me and not someone else. We are united in ways we cannot fathom.

"I want to hear, and I want to be heard,

I want to eat, and I want to be fed,

I want to be made whole , and I want to make whole,

I want to be united, and I want to unite." Acts of John - Christ Hymn - 3rd Century CE

The longings of our heart cross centuries - cross time. Some say there is no such thing as time. The weaving of the tapestry - the carpet laid out before us by Abraham in his tent at Camelot. We are being woven together in a new story. This sweet band of pilgrims.

Have you ever experienced that sense of timelessness? Those moments of truth where words are not needed to 'Know'? Yesterday, a friend asked me what was the gift I received in the desert. Timelessness was the word that rose to the top. Timeless Truth.

photos ©lucy:

view from St. Catherine's courtyard
Sinai Christ
Abraham's tapestry

Surprise Tribute

Sometimes I wish I could plug a recorder into my brain during the night, especially those early morning hours just before waking. I swear some of my best ideas and writing emerge just before dawn, but once I open my eyes they drift away like ash in a windstorm. I also wonder – often – about this crazy universe and how much we can’t even begin to comprehend in relation to our thoughts especially. I’m talking about those goose bump generating moments when you think of a person you haven’t thought of in years and seconds later the phone rings and it’s him/her on the line. Or when a topic is bubbling in your brain and then you find three other bloggers have written about the same thing at the same time.

Early this morning, I was creating a post in my brain about being known (or not) by others. My thoughts drifted in and out through recent events. Monday night I was at a dinner honoring the faculty and participants of the transformational program at the Recovery Café (a place of healing for those in recovery – days, weeks, years, hours – from a variety of addictive behaviors.) Having facilitated a program there on deepening spirituality, I felt as though these people knew me in personal and meaningful ways that people I have known for years don't fathom. Last night, I was with friends I have journeyed with through child rearing, parents’ deaths, divorces and day to day mundane events for 20 years. They see me through a completely different lens. I doubt they would ever consider referring a client to me since they know so many of my personal foibles. In both instances, I am known and I am not.

So, imagine my surprise to wake up and find an e-mail pointing me to this tribute. Maureen at Writing Without Paper is indeed a skilled writer. I found myself perusing her words (my words, in many cases) and being fascinated by their arrangement. While I have never met Maureen in person, she created a unique profile of me that feels very intimate, accurate and revealing. Wow! I felt very “known” as I read her words. I also loved how she left space for not knowing me with this prose: "I figure I still have a lot left to learn before I can imagine saying I know her, even remotely."

Part of my story includes a tension of wanting to be known deeply and also carrying a layer of protection that keeps others away from my heart (sometimes intentionally and other times automatically). It is just one of the many paradoxes in my life. So, today I find myself feeling quite honored by Maureen’s tribute AND feeling a bit shy about pointing you in that direction. However, if you know anything about me at all, you know a little shyness rarely keeps me from taking the leap into new territory. So, please pop on over and read Maureen’s wonderful weaving of prose and meet me in a way I found quite fascinating. (I hope you will leave comments for her to acknowledge her amazing gift of Writing Without Paper.) Thank you, Maureen!!!

My question(s) for you today is: How do you feel about being “known”? Do you hold your own tensions on that subject? Do you leap or lay low? I’d love to know!

collages by and of lucy circa 2007

Blessed by Risk...

...a response to yesterday's post.

“It is not so much our friends’ help that helps us as the confident knowledge that they will help us.” --Epicurus

Words like Thank You, Yes, and Sally Fields’ academy award speech from years ago, “You really do like me,” ring through my head. I am wrapped in the warm words of others. We mirror each other and I hear myself in both the encouragement and the resistance. Your words are mine - “I read, but don’t always comment.” The overflowing sentiment (from you and for you) - I am here when you need me.

It has taken me a long time to learn to ask for what I want or need. For me, it can be a paradoxical situation. If I have to ASK, does it lessen the gift when I receive? The challenging thing is that when I get scared or lonely or angry, I can get pretty prickly AND by that point, I don't know how to ask - so I push. Thus, the initial response is for others to back away when what I really need is for someone to move in closer. I need a cocoon to hold me. I need to cry and weep and wail.

The other day I was so beside myself, it was pretty ugly and instead of backing away – my dear sweet husband leaned in. He wrapped me in a giant bear hug and held on. I cried – we cried – wracking, gut-wrenching, snot-slinging, unabashed tears. I pushed away ...surrendered ...and then cried some more. Somewhere inside my little soul, I was confident he was there to help me. And you know what? When I finally came up for air – I laughed. Yes, laughed! I felt lighter, better, more complete and real.

A similar thing happened yesterday as soon as I wrote the words “Would it make a difference if you knew I was sad”? Something deep inside me KNEW you would show up. And you came – lots of you – some I had no idea ever visited here! You offered much and it didn’t even matter what you said (although I loved every word). My heart lifted when the first comment showed up in my inbox… Really, I think my heart began to shift when I took the risk to ask. It was the sheer act (yes, sheer, as in transparent) of risking the ASK – risking to be real – even though I couldn’t definitively predict what might happen.

My heart overflows with gratitude and I want to sit here for hours basking in your wisdom. It’s hard – very hard, but I am going to push away the desire to spend the day at the computer responding to everyone's wonderful posts. I need to move and stretch and maybe go dance in the rain. Perhaps it’s a risk and you will see me as selfish – I certainly hope not. I have been, and continue to be, blessed by your words and presence. SO...I offer this in return:

May your day be blessed with risk,
May your fears be answered with companions,
May you know that you are loved, and
Experience the inseparable wonder of both grief and joy.

Peace to you, my friends.

"fashion risks" - dublin 2009 © lucy

Reflections from Ireland

Through days and miles, I close my eyes and see the wondrous faces of Noble Silence.

Dim lit room – candles flickering – features softened. Some weary from a day of feasting on the senses - others radiant upon reflection of the ancestors and saints gone by.

Silently – we form a circle – entering meditative prayer through reading and ritual. We bow our heads with soft-focused eyes until the words of the first bubble to the surface.

Palms together – gentle nod – the words flow. Some brief – others a longer story. They wash over me – absorbing me in the soft light – the dark of night surrounding us beyond.

A bow to finish and the silence rests upon us again.

castledermot graveyard ©lucy

all are welcome at the table...sort of

Sitting in the lovely chapel listening to the priest read scripture about all being welcome at the table of God, I felt warm and at home. My eyes followed along with the bulletin to this place:

"Everyone is invited to come forward today. If you are in a communion of faith practice with the Catholic Church, come forward in the usual way to receive the Sacred Bread. If you are a guest, you bless this assembly with your presence. We wish to bless you in return. When you come to the minister, place your hand over your heart to indicate that you wish a blessing." (emphasis my own)

A blessing, but no elements. My heart and thoughts stopped to consider those words. The table is open to everyone and for everyone except when it's not. I was reminded of a child looking through a bakery window at warm fresh bread and delectable pastries– an urchin child hungering for sustenance who will be offered a kind pat on the head rather than a belly-filling meal.

Fortunately, I am not an urchin child. I am a child of God (just like you), well-loved who knows that Mother (or Father) God has fed me well and received me as whole. She will wipe the hunger away and I am no less special because the priest would not put the wafer on my tongue or the wine to my lips. Experiencing my inner smile, I laugh at the silliness of humans thinking they can control where or how God gets doled out. Hmmmm...

A few more thoughts about 'helping out God' can be found at Dreams and Visions.

Lastly, I realize that many of my readers come from a Catholic tradition. Please understand it is not my intent to malign any tradition, but rather to consider the impact of exclusionary rites. I hope all might ponder this alongside me. The service was quite lovely and the presence of God was palpable. I was indeed blessed - elements or not. And, this vision of standing outside the bakery did leave me feeling set aside and not so very welcome.

I wonder where in my life I leave others standing outside the bakery window. Again, I invite you to ponder this alongside me.

teddy bear table taken in Paris 3.08