What station are you tuned to?

“Prayer is actually setting out a tuning fork. All you can really do in the spiritual life is get tuned to receive the always-present message. Once you are tuned, you will receive, and it has nothing to do with worthiness or the group you belong to, but only inner resonance and a capacity for mutuality. The Sender is absolutely and always present and broadcasting; the only change is with the receiver station.” -- Richard Rohr

In my Celtic spirituality class this week, our assignment was to write a prayer in the way of the Celtic Christians and compose it out of the stuff of our own life. I knew the assignment was coming up, I didn’t feel particularly anxious about it, but when the time came to actually write, I froze. All I could think of were the examples we had been reading over the last two weeks. Vast experiences of the Trinitarian God in rhyme and rhythm; poetic use of meter and repetition. My mind went blank. My tuning fork shut down and my head filled with the pressure of performance.

Taking a few deep breaths (one of my favorite forms of self-care), I hit my reset button and began to simply journal. I drew myself back into the present – into the “stuff of my life” and Voila! there was the Sender – broadcasting loud and clear.

While the end result still feels a little clunky to me – not much rhyme or meter – I realize it is indeed a prayer of my own with hints of the Celtic Christians. It is also a wonderful reminder (as my days continue to rise and swell and dip and sink like the vast ocean) that the present moment is all I really have. If I can find myself there, I have hope to ride the crest of the wave and emerge outside the trough. Sensing the resonance and knowing there is One who rides the waves with me, lets me know I am tuned to a sustainable frequency.

Arising Presence

Breaking through the dreams of night,
slowly I awaken.
Rain falls softly on the lawn and
in my heart I hear the call,
Listen. Listen. Listen.

I stretch and feel my sinewy limbs
gently come alive.
Golden softness brushes my palm,
The breath of God caresses my face.
Listen. Listen. Listen.

Spirit prompts and says, Arise.
Come greet the day that lies before.
Listen. Listen. Listen.

Holy friend, you walk beside.
My feet caressed in lamb’s soft wool,
we step 'cross solid ground of oak.
I feel your touch and once again hear,
Listen. Listen. Listen.

Father God, Creator Soul you meet me
through breath & touch & sound.
Rain falling. Breath purring.
Wool caressing. Ground holding.
Speaking to the dreams of day,
Listen. Listen. Listen.

© Kayce S. Hughlett 2010

Feast Day of St. Brigid

Please join me today in celebrating St. Brigid - famous for her hospitality and celebrating the ordinary. I love this woman!!!

"Healing God, come to our hidden corners,
remove the stone and grit we cling to,
that prevent the water of life flowing free."
--Prayer from Solas Bhride, Kildare.

Jan Richardson offers a beautiful and detailed description of this incredible woman. I invite you to read more here. Thank you, Jan!

photo @ St. Brigid's well, Kildare, 10.09

Coming off the ledge

Here are a few thoughts that have been swimming around in my brain in preparation for a session I’m offering Saturday to upcoming graduates with degrees in counseling psychology, masters of divinity and Christian studies. The topic: Self-care.

It takes courage to slow down. To say, “I need a break.” Our world encourages burn out. Give. Give. Give. Nowhere do I see this more than with people in the helping professions. Pastors. Priests. Social workers. Counselors. Chaplains. Because, you see, there is a never ending supply of people who need help.

Parents are also notorious for running themselves ragged with the self-invalidating stance of “my kids need me.” You hear it from the exhausted mother who sews a button on the child’s performance costume minutes before the school program. Or from the dad who runs out at 9:30 p.m. after a full day’s work to get the book his teen just now said she needs for homework (even though she’s known it for weeks.) We can’t say no. We don’t say no even when we’re dead dog tired, and our insides are screaming, GRRRRRRR.

Then we get up the next morning, slosh down a cup of coffee, grab a bagel or maybe smoke a cigarette and head out the door before we’re even awake, because someone needs us. We encourage others to take care of themselves while we border on the unethical (or at least hypocritical), as we let the stress pile on. When does it stop? How do we break the cycle?

Scripture admonishes us to “Love God and love our neighbors as ourselves.” How warped have we made those beautiful words? We either forget ourselves all together and press through with a smile and a latte; or we love others just as we love ourselves – not very well. And God? Who has time?

Caring for one’s self is hard, hard work. Does any tiny bit of this resonate with you? How’s your pulse today? Relaxed? On the verge of burnout? Exhausted? Terrified? Excited? All of the above? If you’re one of the few who feels calm and practices self-care, tell us: Where do you find respite?

How do you respond when I say to you, “Take care of yourself. Your life depends on it”? Imagine this… in order to continue with the work you love, you have to stop now. You can’t see another client or respond to your child or answer an e-mail or text. You’ve got to throw away your computer and lock the doors to your office (or personal space). You have one hour to find solace. No, wait, that’s too much time. 10 minutes.

So could you do it? Could you implement a self-care strategy within that time frame? I offer you this challenge…. You have 10 minutes to pull yourself back in from the ledge, what do you do? Go ahead, make the list. Then pick one item and do it! ☺

Here’s the short list that popped into my mind:

1. 10 minutes with my cat
2. 3 pages of uncensored journaling
3. Listen to two or three of my favorite songs
4. 5 deep breathes, a couple of full stretches & the rest of the time in child’s pose
5. A walk around the block – brisk or slow, as needed

Ahhhh. I feel better already. I look forward to hearing from you.

Gift

Pinned.
I can’t move.
His purr vibrates against my chest.
The rise and fall of breath beneath my palm.
Soft golden fur caresses my fingertips.
Warm breath, steamy on my wrist.

We rise and fall together.
Breathing.
Only this moment exists.
His wisdom says,
“This is enough.”

He shows me what it’s like
To push your way into love & care.
“This is what I need right now.
This is what you need, too,"
I hear the gentle murmur.

No need to rush
Or hurry
Or read
Or think
Just…

Feel the rise and fall
The beating of our hearts
The rhythm of two connected as one
In the gentle breaking dawn

My gift for the day.
Take it with you and
Hold this place of rest
Calm
Stillness
God.

Learn from the wisdom of
This one
Who knows only now
Who knows the embrace of
The one who loves

Pondering... Sea Glass

Sea glass. Today I hold a meager collection, fitting into two ounces of crystal glass my mother used to serve Bailey’s Irish Cream. The tiny assortment mesmerizes me, both in the meditative gathering along the beach, as well as here in captivity, nestled amidst my simple treasures.

Pieces of glass tossed into the sea. Like memories some sink to the depths of unknowing – others magically appear on the desolate beach – glimmering – waiting to be collected – taken home and treasured as something new.

Tiny bits of amber, azure, emerald and smoky white. From where did they tumble? A humble beginning? Beer bottle in the hand of a local drunken boatman? Something more grand? The carrier of passionate script from a star-crossed lover? Ancient treasure tossing in the surf for centuries?

How began the journey to now? The essential breaking against an exotic piece of ebony coral? A fate more ordinary perhaps? Colliding with the hulk of a massive container ship or the speeding prop of a passing pleasure boat?

What seems most certain is no one noticed when the change began. Or how long the agitation cycle has spun to achieve these smooth edges. One might consider this not even a point worth pondering…

Still…Can one measure the length of metamorphosis from dangerous garbage on the beach into a treasure to collect? Oh I wonder…

Update: Pop on over to the Mind Sieve and read her take on Sea Glass - & No... we didn't plan this.

'beachcomber' © lucy 1.24.10