mother's day - aaarrrghh!

"Nothing else will make you as happy or as sad, as proud or as tired, for nothing is quite as hard as helping a person develop his own individuality especially while you struggle to keep your own."

--Marguerite Kelly and Elia Parsons, The Mothers Almanac

what can i write for a blog post today? words don't feel especially pretty here. i hate mother's day - a strong sentiment, i know. And lest, anyone think I'm totally cold-hearted, I wish all of you mother's out there a joyous day. i especially send my condolences to those who grieve because they aren't mothers (i know this day is hard for you, and it's yet another reason for my disdain of the 2nd sunday in may.)

mothers... what can i say? mothers love. mothers die. they hurt. they mess up and they do the best they can. they are loving, hateful, compassionate and cruel. they are the most important thing in the world to us, and we discount what they have to say because "they're just our mothers."

today is a gorgeous day outside. my husband has already brought me coffee in bed and breakfast is on the way. my son sent and created the beautiful card you see here, complete with an original poem. my daughter is still sleeping soundly (which is what a 17 year old girl should be doing on sunday morning). i have lovely plans for the day - some just for me and others spent with my family.

i have already shed tears for the loss of my mother who died 6 years ago today on mother's day. i have been angry at her and myself. i have grieved for friends who i know also struggle with this day, and i have rejoiced with those who relish what it means to be a mom. before 8:00 a.m. i have felt a full range of emotions including laughter, tears, anger and grief.

And... i believe that's what being alive is all about - it's about feeling our feelings. i recognized quickly this morning the pull between the radiant sunshine and warmth that greeted me outside and the tug inside my body that screams "I hate this day." it isn't one or the other. it's both, and the more clearly i can name it, the more i can be present to this day - or any other. so regardless of your mother-status or gender, i send you warm wishes on this sacred sunday.

may you feel your feelings fully and celebrate the beauty of who YOU are!!!

sips and drops of blessing

“The element of water connects us to a sacred web across the globe and invites us into acts of blessing, pouring forth love and grace to the world around us and receiving it in return.” -- Christine V. Paintner

I’ve often thought of the air we breathe as being connected to everyone in the world. My neighbor in Puerto Rico inhales the same air that flowed from my Seattle home, across the United States and then south to the Caribbean. In my mind, it moves on around the world across Europe and Asia, crossing the Pacific and then back home again.

Air flows freely and although it may feel stagnant for periods of time, it is still fluid – as is water. While water may not be the exact same body flowing directly from one place to another, there is still the possibility and invitation to connect across the globe - if only in our heart and imagination. When I ponder my flowing tears dropping into a stream that flows toward the ocean which moves via gulf stream, I can witness a piece of myself touching the woman in Africa who washes her clothes on a rock while bending over a muddy river. Perhaps it is the same water melted from the Polar ice cap, evaporated, blown through the clouds and poured out on a different continent half way around the world.

While I am clearly no scientist, I do know that water changes shape and form and has a unique path of its own. What would it be like to consider water in the way Christine describes as “acts of blessing, pouring forth love and grace to the world around us”? Personally, I love the image of blessings passed through sips and drops of water.

photo © lucy - Ireland, 2009

renewal and release

Today's Easter Season reflection from Abbey of the Arts ended with this question:

"How might water be calling me to deeper renewal and release?"

Earlier this morning I was musing about two upcoming trips - one in July and the other September. With all of this pondering about water, renewal and release, my choices seem quite interesting. Rather than the beaches of Bermuda and the luscious green Emerald Isle of years past, the Sinai Desert has chosen me for pilgrimage during this year of water. Interesting, huh? And the other destination? Oklahoma, yes, Oklahoma - one of the most landlocked states in the country. Dead center in the middle of the US far from even the Great Lakes. Not exactly the top 10 of vacation destinations, but Oklahoma is the place of my birth and where I lived the first 32 years of my life.

Perhaps that is why my roots are deep and strong? They had to work hard to find water and gather nourishment from the red-tinged earth. Just like grapevines planted in rocky ground, the roots must struggle and strain to find soil and so the plants become hardy and strong and flourish in unexpected ways. Is that not the story of my life - struggling and straining - flourishing in unexpected ways?

I wonder what I will learn visiting the desert during a year designated for water? How will my roots reach and grow? "You will come to appreciate water in ways you cannot imagine," my friend and pilgrimage guide said.

Here in the Pacific Northwest, we are surrounded by an abundance of water. This week, it falls unceasingly from the sky and I don't find myself wanting to dance in the rain. I am craving heat and sunshine. What are these things teaching me? What of deeper renewal and release? Maybe a walk in the rain is in order. Perhaps a long shower. I don't know. I feel dry this morning. Dry in the midst of moisture. So...

"How might water be calling me to renewal and release?" I don't know... perhaps that is the release.

What it is I do...

"While we have the gift of life,

it seems to me the only tragedy

is to allow part of us to die --

whether it is our spirit,

our creativity or

our glorious uniqueness."

-- Gilda Radner

Recently, I've had more opportunity than usual to talk with people about what it is I do. My work expands an array of modalities - psychotherapy, supervision, spiritual direction and artistic expression - while working with unique people from a variety of sectors.

I see individuals in my private practice, and work with pastors, counselors and other compassionate listeners through small groups. My volunteer world finds me co-facilitating spirituality groups at the Recovery Cafe. My training as a SoulCollage® facilitator often plays a role in these venues, as well as in separate workshops for those exploring self-awareness and/or creativity. Speaking opportunities and writing assignments give me the gift of connecting to even larger audiences.

While it can be difficult to succinctly sum up "what I do", Gilda Radner's above quote captures in a few short words the perspective that bridges both my therapeutic and personal worlds. Life is indeed a gift, and I believe we each possess the power to give ourselves a great life. Only we can discover the "glorious uniqueness" of ourselves that comes through self-awareness.

As I pondered further Radner's quote and the question about "what it is I do", the following words rang true for me:

It is my desire to help people empower themselves to live great lives - to connect with their spirituality and/or creativity and most importantly their own personal uniqueness.

Today, I invite you to consider: What does the gift of life offer you? Can you name where or how you feel empowered? Have you allowed "tragedy" to move into your life and let a part of yourself die - spiritually, creatively, uniquely?

I'd love to ponder alongside you.

If you'd like to receive my monthly "diamonds in the soul" newsletter (and don't already), please click on the box in the right column just below Lucy.

Truth of an Ending

Relationships are complex. I realize large doses of energy are spent considering relationship of some form - with myself - with others - with God. I woke up this morning with these words running through my mind - It is in relationship that we are broken and in relationship we are healed.

There's a theme of abandonment that runs through my personal narrative... So, much of the time I feel as though ended relationships are a failure on my part. If only I'd done something different, perhaps the relationship would have survived. If only I'd been a better friend, mother, daughter, fill-in-the blank, maybe they wouldn't have left. Sound familiar?

And then there are those relationships where I know I was the one who threw down the gauntlet and said, "This isn't working. Something needs to change" and the other party chose not to engage, and the relationship ended. So then what? Who has failed? Perhaps no one. Maybe everyone.

As I awoke this morning, I was greeted with these words, "magically" appearing in the form of "Today's Gift":

"Regret is an appalling waste of energy, you can't build on it: it's only good for wallowing in." - Katherine Mansfield

"Sentences beginning with "if only" can go nowhere but straight to regret... At times it's we, ourselves, who do the leaving. We can count it a success, not a failure, when we've had the courage to acknowledge the truth of an ending." -- Joan Larkin

That last sentence is slowly creating a shift in my perspective. Can I claim the bravery in seeing 'the truth of an ending'- the wisdom of letting go - the necessity of saying good-bye?

Are there places where you hang onto regret and find yourself wallowing in "if only's"? Would your perspective change if you saw the ending of a defunct relationship as a success rather than a failure? Can you listen to the truth that lies within your own heart - remembering there are three kinds of relationship - with God - with others - and with yourself?

Will you ponder alongside me?

"friends" photo © lucy