what are your "nevers"?

“My hands hold safely to my dreams
Clutching tightly not one has fallen
So many years I've shaped each one
Reflecting my heart showing who I am”

--Barlow Girl “Surrender”

Yesterday I wrote about being alive and inside that post were many questions about what holds me back. This morning as I awakened really early I could feel the promptings of the still small voice. I lay in bed with images of art and activities pouring through my mind. Finally I surrendered to the morning and got out of my cozy bed even though it was still pitch dark outside. I gathered my journal and tiptoed downstairs so as not to wake my sleeping husband and then I began to write. The lists of the day tumbled onto the paper mixed in with all of those questions of why I hold back when it comes to art—to MY art.

I have great plans. I have books to help me, supplies to use, ideas in abundance, but still I wait. “It will be a waste of time.. money…effort.” And then there is the flip side of the story. I am impatient. I want to hurry the process…to get to the end result and not let the art create me. Yikes! Sometimes I feel like such a mess!!

And so, I wrote and wrestled and this little voice kept saying, “Go paste the page onto the board.” (Several weeks ago I bought new supplies for creating and have tentatively been considering working with them. The board has been painted in a couple of colors and a few days ago I started considering adding text.) In the midst of all of my wrestling was another train of thought to “practice saying yes”--a theme I have been enjoying in Patti Digh’s new book. So, even while I am writing about “saying yes” I am ignoring the prompts to “paste the text on the board”. I am saying “no” to my art—again! And then God in all of her creative graciousness prompted me a little more directly—my pen ran out of ink—my last words being, “Go paste the page…” ☺

Now God gets even pushier here. I went to the book that I have designated as my “practice” pages (i.e. I can tear it up with great abandon.) It is a really heady book (not), called “The Devil in the Junior League.” ☺ I recalled it contained a few lists and since lists seem to be a theme for me these days I hopped right on it. Not paying much regard to the list content, I tore out a page and then pared it down to a manageable size and began to apply acrylic medium. When I flipped it over to paste the back, this is what I found:

“Unwilling to share any of that, I launched into the points that my mother and the charming women at Little Miss Debutante had drummed into my head, otherwise known as the Four Nevers:

1. Never dominate a conversation.
2. Never speak in a voice that can be heard more than three feet away.
3. Never do anything that anyone would notice if they were more than three feet away.
4. Never boast of your accomplishments.”

It might as well have included one more that said, “NEVER MAKE ART!” It was like all of the voices of my past (and evidently present) were rolled into one and printed on that page that I had chosen “by accident.” And so, after a few deep breaths, a couple of tears and a good laugh with God, I tiptoed back upstairs to get my computer so I could record this little encounter (and capture the words of “the page”, because you never know what may happen next with that little piece of art.)

And, the promptings did not end there, of course!! My computer screensaver is a nifty little thing that randomly displays album covers from my i-tunes list. I noticed a cover by Barlow Girl and wondered what music she sings. (I have lots of music given to me and rarely do I remember artists or song titles unlike my dear husband who can recall every song he has heard since 1960 ☺.) So, I found Barlow Girl’s one song I own and it, of course, is titled “Surrender.” Need I say more?

I would love to hear your response to my morning’s events or even better your own encounters and wrestlings with the inner critic, God, art, whatever! Or maybe you would like to share your personal “Four Nevers?” I hope you will say, "Yes!"

photos from pere lachaise cemetary--paris, 2.08

be alive!

“Being alive is the special occasion.” --Patti Digh

What does it take for us to believe that being alive is the special occasion? That each day is a gift—each moment? That I am special? That my wrinkles have been earned? My body has been well worn? That I am fortunate to be getting out of bed each day—aches, pains and all?

So, what gets in my way? Mind chatter. Laziness. Ego. Outside and inside messages. I let it happen. I let another’s attitude dampen my day. I allow too little sleep to make me tired and cranky. I buy in to the voices in my head that I often don’t even hear speaking.

Why don’t I put myself out there? What keeps me from creating? From stepping into the process? Lots of the time I won’t allow myself to enjoy the process of art making. I jump to focusing on the end result. It won’t be valued. What will I do with it? There’s no room to store it. It’s a waste of time…resources…money…blah blah blah.

Forget about the end result! It is a process. Just like life. Just like my blogs. When I focus on "productivity," I make my own destiny, because I worry about the end results. Again, what will others think? And so I don’t even put anything out there and then of course readers quit stopping by. I quit creating and the world—the universe—one person even has lost the opportunity…And, there I go again jumping to the outcome. I don’t know what happens when I don’t create.

Do I know what happens when I do create? I am learning I really don’t KNOW much of anything. Wonder if I can be o.k. with that? Will I allow myself to go with the process rather than focusing on the end result (which I can't determine anyway)!?!??!? I sure hope so, because one thing I do know is that being alive is the special occasion!

Now go on, get out there and be alive!!!

hijacked

“It’s as if the whole world hijacked Sammy’s special day. And believe me, as his father? That really pisses me off.” --Peggy Sarjeant

So, here I sit on the eve of 9-11, as it has come to be called, and consider what one does when their birthday has been “hijacked”. What do you do when the date of your birth is associated with pain and mourning for the country…for the whole world even? When celebrating seems like heresy? When people hear your birth date and groan? When they say, “Oh, I could never forget that birthday” and then they do.

My friend & talented writer, Peggy, wrote a very poignant story a few years ago about Sammy—a 7 year old who doesn’t understand why he can’t have cupcakes at school on his birthday of September 11. It is a story to which I can totally relate, because if you haven’t figured it out…my birthday is 9-11 ☺.

I struggle a little with what to write here. The therapist in me has lots of deep analysis of what this all means. The magical thinking of a child and my own personal ego kick into play and say the Twin Towers crashed because of me. Yikes! Do other people’s minds go off in crazy directions like that? Add to this the fact that my father died in a truck accident the day after my 19th birthday and you have a whole lot of crashing going on around my special day. So, it’s no wonder I have some pretty strong feelings surrounding these days! (Fortunately I have amazing support & years of therapy under my belt or I could really be “off to the races” on this one! ☺)

There is so much “stuff” that surrounds our birthdays anyway. People seem to either love birthdays, hate them or pretend that they do neither. If you really think about it, however, doesn’t the kid in each of us really appreciate a little celebration? A little recognition? (And, in case, you are shaking your head and saying, “Nope. Not me.” The therapist in me would challenge you to ask yourself why you feel that way ☺. What kind of “stuff” surrounds your birthday?) So, why do I write this post? It is not for a pity party, because I don’t feel pitiful. Maybe it is just my own way to say, “Happy Birthday” to myself and to even agree with Sammy’s dad that yeah, even though the Twin Towers did not crash to punish me, it “really pisses me off” that they had to crash at all, much less on MY day!

9-11 is a day of notoriety and in my own sweet selfish Lucy way, I want it to be all about me. However, the more compassionate and thoughtful Me commiserates with our country and grieves the tragedy that this day remembers. (The Painted Painted Prayerbook had a thoughtful post earlier this week which you might enjoy.)

I am very blessed to have a wonderful group of supportive friends who have chosen to celebrate 9-11 a couple of ways. They have set the goal of each home and business displaying a flag tomorrow to represent unity. In addition, they have committed to light a birthday candle for yours truly. I hope you will consider doing the same. I plan to ☺.

p.s. I hope you will come back tomorrow and wish me a real "Happy Birthday"!

worth the risk?

“Explore and expand your capacity for love and forgiveness. Love people who are unlovable. As G.K. Chesterton said, “love means to love that which is unlovable, or it is no virtue at all.” Who in your life is unlovable? What would loving them look like? How would it change you?” --Patti Digh

I just finished reading David Sheff’s remarkable book, “beautiful boy.” I hesitated for many months before reading this book, because I did not know if I could stomach it. If I could survive it. If I could relive it. But alas it kept popping into my consciousness and finally someone handed me the book and said, “it’s o.k. to read.” (I was also inspired by Sunrise Sister’s thoughtful book review here.)

You see the book is my story. It is my son’s story although the names have been changed as well as the drugs…well some of them anyway. It is a remarkable book. At times I felt like I was inside the pages. In fact, I had been inside the pages. Again, the places had been changed but the memories and emotions were the same. And as I read the quote above from Patti Digh’s 37 Days, I thought of my son and how many people deemed him along the way “unlovable.” I think of the judgment that has come our way. Of the many people that said “I would have given up on him long before now. How do you do it?”

And, today I think of the amazing gift that my son has given me. Because, yes, he is my flesh and blood and that alone (at least for a mother, I think) makes him lovable, but for many years and many moments he presented himself to the world as unlovable. And so I return to Patti’s questions: “What would loving them (the unlovable) look like?” “How would it change you?” and I return to my response: It is an amazing gift. It is worth the risk to love.

I am in no way the same person I was that gave birth to my own beautiful boy just over 19 years ago. I am not even the same person who bought him a puppy on his first day of grade school or the one who home-schooled him when he was 12. I am not even the same person who woke up this morning. Because, you see, my son, “the unlovable”, shook me out of my complacency. He taught me about pain and anger, about hatred and forgiveness, about fear and love.

He sent me on a path (unknowingly) toward wholeness. Loving him looks like a miracle. It looks like new breath…new life. It has changed me profoundly and taught me how to love the unlovable, beginning with myself.

I returned to school at nearly 50 years of age to pursue a career totally opposed to my ‘prior life’. (This kind of change was something I never dreamed I would do while I was “sleeping.”) I latched onto a verse. “Love God and love your neighbor as yourself.” I learned that I had to start with myself and that God would be alongside me in ways I never could have conceived. Before I could love my neighbor or my son or the unlovable, I had to learn to love myself. And so for me, “loving the unlovable” began a circular journey back towards myself and toward the 'unlovable.' And, the circle grows larger and larger every day.

And so, today I thank my own beautiful boy. I honor him and love him and am so grateful that I never gave up on either one of us.

So, I pose to you Patti’s questions: "What would it look like to love the unlovable? How would it change you?" Would you be willing to find out?

but...

I never cease to be amazed at how we are always moving toward ourselves. How can we be “moving toward ourselves”, you might ask. Aren’t we already us? Yes, of course, and I believe, No, absolutely not. In Christian terms, one could say that the journey is becoming more like Christ. Does that make more sense? My point this morning is not to have a theological discussion, but rather to comment on the journey and how so many seemingly small things begin to come together and, if we are paying attention, there comes a point in time when they begin to converge and we can see the larger picture. It is kind of like taking varying pieces of paper in collage work and while the individual scraps don’t look like anything significant, when you stand back and behold a larger more significant image has been constructed out of the scraps.

Take for example the tiny scrap of a word, “but”. For me it has become a significant part of how I choose to articulate myself (more accurately it is the absence of those three little letters--b-u-t--from my vocabulary.) Several years ago my family was participating in some group work and the facilitator suggested that often when we use the word ‘but’, it seemingly negates everything that comes before it. For example, "I love you, BUT you really make me mad." The receiver of those words very likely only hears the second part. What if, however, you were to say, I love you AND you really make me mad? It’s both! See?

My next progression in this particular awakening came when I was in graduate school and I was introduced to the concept of both/and. It took awhile to sink in that this was in contrast with either/or. By working on my personal issues and having the privilege of facilitating dozens of people through their own work, I have been astounded by how ingrained we are with being good or bad and right or wrong. This way of thinking often clouds things so much that we simply can’t see what IS. Does it have to be one or the other? Perhaps it is neither and perhaps it is both. Usually it just IS.

For the purposes of this discussion , I refer back to my recent post which speaks of my paradoxical nature. ("I know God and God knows me AND I must continue to press on to see who God is and who I am.") Which leads me back to where I started here with the amazement at always moving toward ourselves. It’s the journey. Can you see it?

For quite some time now I have been drawn to the concept of paradox. Such as, how can I KNOW God and still be searching to find out who God is? It is both/and…that’s how ☺. So, a couple of weeks ago when I was at my birth chart reading and near the end, the astrologer said, “It is a good chart. It is a hard chart. Everything is BOTH.” I had to smile and say, “Of course” for in that moment I got to understand my personal journey just a bit more clearly. To me it brought more light onto my aversion to using the word “but”, my being drawn to the concept of “both/and” and my continued fascination and need to live with the idea of paradox. My life is good. It is hard. It is both!

Now the cool thing for me is that while I knew all of these ponderings have been stirring around inside me, it was through two comments on my last entry that today's post came into existence.

Tess wrote, “What really struck me about this post was your use of the word AND. "...fully engaged... AND I cherish my solitude." You didn't use the word 'but'... Perhaps part of your work is to continue showing others by your example that deep and enduring balance in life is a creative thing.”

And from Maureen: “entirely 'unique to you' words and thoughts AND words that speak to the searching longing discovering journey of so many of us...given that God desires us to know ourselves that we might know God i clap my hands loudly celebrating your questions and the answers you seek..i want to know more”

I was struck by Tess’ encouragement to share the example of “deep and enduring balance”. I must admit that terrifies me just a bit, AND something about it resonated deeply with my paradoxical nature ☺. We’ll see what happens. Also, Maureen’s connection to the journey and questions invites me to “want to know more” and share more.

So, what do you think? But? Both/and? Paradox? Moving toward ourselves? The floor is open...

lucy's chicks from the bermuda botanical gardens 6.08