Recovering from trauma... You can do this..

What happens when step by step you keep stepping?  Well, some days amazing things happen. But you know what? Some days you step in a pile of shit. It is what you keep doing after that.

There's been this journey I've been on for... well, for a life time! I'm  thinking though that  I've actually just begun to show up. The truth of the matter is I've been learning all along how to show up tiny step by tiny step.  The complexities of life and living are such that we all hope that one day (and fill in the blank). Seriously.. what's the statement you tell yourself ... One day when (and fill in the blank).  That that day will come and all will be resolved. So many make so much money telling us so... But I'm not telling you so.

I'm not here to be the cheerleader and say something like, "THIS IS THE DAY!" Maybe it isn't for you.  Maybe somehow telling yourself "one day when...." (and fill in the blank). serves you some how.  Maybe you aren't ready for the next next step.  That has to be ok.  Hear me.. I'm not mocking here.  So many self-help gurus shouting at us to do this or do that and each one of those things is a magical pill. I'm saying there is no magical pill.  It will eventually take you stepping into life, realizing that maybe some magical "one day," isn't really what is going to happen... But maybe each tiny step leads you to that day when some magical things do happen.  Upon that journey you will take five steps forward and then a day will come when you are thrown a mile back.

That too is ok...  

When we hear statements like "This is your day!" Or any one of the million self help prophecies out there, and there are millions, it gets exhausting and discouraging.  We wait and wait and wait around for something to happen. When nothing spectacular happens we feel like we missed something, lost out on something, or worse.. Did something wrong and so thus and so didn't happen.

I'll tell you a secret. Spectacular things are happening all around you, and while you wait they go unnoticed and unseen and unappreciated.  That the sun rises every day is pretty spectacular. That people find ways to smile in a world that can be pretty harsh most of the time is pretty spectacular. That people face getting up day after day, when the days can be long and hard but something in them just won't let them quit though everything in them wants to.. that's pretty spectacular.

I'll tell you another secret.  There is no winning.  NOT REALLY. Life really is a journey. WE aren't kind to ourselves or each other.  We don't give each other time to let things be sorted out, to let things just happen, to allow for growth and healing and process. We keep unearthing seedlings to look and see if any growth has happened and we end up killing the process and the seedlings.

Recovering from trauma takes time. That might suck and not be what you want to hear. But it is true.  Letting your body, your psyche, your spirit, your emotions, your heart, your mind, your breath heal takes time.  Rushing through it will only cause harm.  Give yourself and others the gift of time. Show up as much as you can today.  Try. Take a breath maybe slightly deeper then you did yesterday. Just think about trying it out.

Time
Rest
Quiet
Stillness

Maybe you have never known calm. Maybe it will take a year for your body to relax within a moment of silence to feel what calm can really feel like. Are you really not going to give yourself a chance?  You can do this.. Step by tiny step. You can give yourself permission to heal.  It is ok, that you can not do today what you thought you needed to.. Now this isn't permission to then not get up off your ass ever... I don't think that is the problem most of the time. Most of the time I think the harshest judge and critic live right inside your heart and mind and that you need to take time to meet them and look at them and hear them and then decide are those really the voices you want to be listening to?

I'm serious.. just ask my therapist. I came to her and on our first day together I said something like this.. "I sit where you do for lots of people.  I can't do it for myself. I make a living out of seeing things and really seeing things and helping people along their paths. I am blind for myself. So I need you to help me see those blind spots. " My expectation was we would meet twice a week for a few months and I'd be good to go.  I was very very wrong.  And at one point, she therapeutically put into my life only seeing each other once a week.  I was on a race with what I do not know. Maybe the demons of the past were chasing my ass down the freeway of life, except nothing was free.

Time was taken from you. If you are healing from trauma then time was stolen from you in one way or another.. don't let it keep be stolen.

I had bought an animal totem of a turtle.. Just a small stone turtle to keep in my hand or a pocket, to hold and remind myself often that life as a turtle has its benefits... But within a month of having that thing I lost it.. Silly me it was too small and I was still going to fast to make sure I had kept it safe.  Next there was a necklace with a turtle on it that I could put around my neck. However it didn't go with everything and I like to accessorize and so it wasn't working.  You know what I did?  I got one tattooed upon my right shoulder. YUP!  A turtle in a bright and pretty blue, reminds me every day to take it slow, take it easy, pace myself and even know it is ok to go into the shell every now and then.  When recovering from trauma it is a given.

You can do this... And doing "this" isn't huge spectacular moves and break throughs. It is showing up as much as you can, when you can, being gracious to yourself, letting yourself have room to breath, giving yourself grace to learn how to live in your body, with your self and in this life.  You can do this... Not because so big self help guru is yelling in your face, but because look at what you have already done!  You can do this... because you can and doing it means doing it the way you can, how you can, when you can ...

Again I will quote some of the most amazing words my therapist ever said to me..

In your time
At your pace
As it should be 

My Yoga/ Christian Journey : When There is a Void ... I Pray.. Let There Be Light

As I said, I have  never planned out a blogging sequence. That is until now.

I can feel in my gut that there is something missing.  A portion, an articulation, an essence of which, desires to find expression.  I am not so brash as to say I have the fullness of  such a thing.  I do believe I am a pilgrim upon a journey of discovery.  I do believe, that as I walk this narrow dusty path that which I behold is bringing transformation.  I do believe, that there are people, places and postures along the way that have much to teach me and are teaching me much.

I begin with this posture.
I begin in this place.

I humbly come before my God, who I believe created me in the very heart beat of His essence.
I humbly come before you, who I believe I am connected to... Holding the high priestly prayer of Christ so close to my heart. The reality of Oneness.  Oneness of all things and of all people... I read the words of one of His last earthly prayers and am so moved by His hunger for humanity to understand our Oneness with each other and with the Divine.

This... this posture is the one I begin this intentional conversation within.....
Humbly coming... laying all that I think I thought I knew down and uttering an expression .. In my knowing I did not know and now that I do not know I am beginning to know.

In the beginning of all things there is a story and as it goes, there was void and things were formless and Spirit hovered .... There was no form. There was void and there was darkness.

When chaos and void and darkness reign what do we need?
Spirit to Hover.
Spirit to be engaged.
Light

When chaos reigns in our hearts, in our bodies, in our minds what do we need?
We need to find a greater order, we need to find light and peace and yes.. Spirit!

Let there be light.............

Light brings that illumination through which we see.

Was that "let there be light," a big bang of instant spoken word from Divine Creator sparking a revolution of beauty and wonder and fullness?  Did that expression of let there be light bring forth a wonderment and awe and revelation?  An expression that says chaos can be brought to higher order, voids can be made full, and darkness can be eradicated by light.

As is true for the natural world, so is true for the human life... the human heart.

Let there be light... Let a greater order by which we can see come and fill that which was once empty and dark.  May we learn from the void, the darkness, and the emptiness and touch fullness, light and creativity.

What came after the utterance of light was a burst of creative power and expression, exploding time and time again. This expression kept expanding and expanding as the ever widening circle of reality went from good to very good and then to holy.

Creative expression in the form of the water, land, sky, earth, creature filled the space as did human. Clay was taken into hands and breath was added. Breath!!!!  Very good was declared. Clay was formed into substance. Clay was formed. A body became.  A body became and was still until the breath came.  Then there was life.

Light. Creativity and fullness. Body. Breath... In the beginning of all things, as it is written in ancient Hebrew texts. We weren't left to be floating spirits without a body. We were given the gift of body. Body is house and temple and can be home. (More on that subject..lots more on that subject to come.)

Then came holy.  What is holy?  The very first thing that the Creator ever pronounced as being holy was rest.
Sabbath and rest and trust would become the crux of the journey between God and that which He spilled His image into, us! 

So in the proverbial beginning and in this beginning I see so much  to lay a foundation upon.

Spirit ... energy, vibration, frequency, sound, light, breath
Voids being made full with creative wonder
Rest being enacted as an act of holiness.

Yoga comes from a Sanskrit word, a derivation of the word yuj, which means yoking as in a team of oxen. Another way to read and understand it is to think of union.  The practice of yoga is said to be for the union of body, mind and spirit. In the creation account that I know Christians and Hebrews look towards there is that union.  The divine yokes His essence with Creation, calling things good, very good and holy.  In all essence in the beginning there was the yoking together, the union of The Divine Presence, Creation, woman and man, light, breath, energy....

There is nothing in that list that is separate or other than what I find in the very heart beat and practice of yoga.  A space created for me to step into, to discover the void within, to strengthen and feel the strength of my body that houses me, (We are now the Temples of the Spirit.... I find that as much in New Testament reading as I do in other sacred texts.) to grow in awareness of my need for breath and movement and to bring alignment with all that I am into a space that will help focus my mind upon whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is good. I am told to think upon such things. The practice of meditation and yoga brings together a peace and a stability within so that I can grasp a hold of the peace that passes all understanding and bring that off the mat and into my life.

  I wouldn't start my yoga practice until December 2014, however in July of 2014 I was asking within the pages of my journal that I would be led into a deeper understanding of the body, mind and spirit connection.  I could feel the pull of something upon my soul, yet knew not what it was and then came the practice of yoga.  There was such an intense hunger within to touch understanding.  Why a body? What does it mean that we have a body? How can I be more fully in my body? What is my soul, my mind, me? What is my Spirit? How do the three come together?

Void met form
Breath met dry bones
Light entered my eyes and my soul igniting my spirit and brought deep life into my body 
Rest was found

The practice of yoga isn't to be made christian but a Christian can do yoga.
The practice of yoga isn't Buddhist but a Buddhist can do yoga.
The practice of yoga isn't Hindu but a Hindu can do yoga.

The practice of yoga transcends the specific expression of any one religion and can be as varied as there are people. Some use the straight forward posture driven practice to grow strength and be more present within their own bodies. Others incorporate a more meditative stance.

Step by step....  I take this journey.
Finding an articulation that is expansive and inclusive and rings true and lives in union with all that I know of the Lord's nature and character.  There is nothing I see in the beginning of all things that would deny the basis of holding a yoga practice deep into my heart and my life. There is nothing I see in the beginning of all things that says I must first call something "christian" before it can be holy or safe or "right."   I see there was a void. I see Spirit hovered and then after the passage of time spoke and came energy (What is light?), creative power and humanity full of breath......

How we should have been taught... Continuing the Conversation and further plans to do so

Ascribe to me not an intentionality that knows that which I am doing.

It is  more liken unto Abraham setting out for a land he knew not, but knowing he had to take the journey.

I am not a systematic writer.
I have not planned out blogs.
I have not learned the way of the 21st blogger successful strategies.
I have tried to become more consistent in my writing but other than that I come to keyboard with or without the inspiration. I place my fingers on the keys. I close my eyes. I open my heart. I hope. 

However there is a push to become more systematic in this arena.  There is a hunger pulsating upon the winds of change.  You.. me, we are walking with it. Maybe being blown forward bit by bit is more like it.  I've finished and am editing and re-editing a book.  The title so far is "The Girl Next Door."  The subtitle is what has got me stumpedt.  Those things get changed over and over again anyway.

The premise of the book is finding your voice and your courage.  It takes me from a childhood riddled with abuse into a young adulthood and an adulthood found walking in ministry.  All that I saw in all those phases and never said a word. All I saw and didn't say, "no," or "you can't treat people like that," or any million phrases that could be said.  I bought into many lies and some for my own temporary benefit. However I've seen the allure of temporary benefit only to feel its immense sting in the ass. The story, my story will be about vibration, the song of life and finding ones own voice.

It is said that when one goes to write, the "why" should be known.  In knowing the "why" of writing there is clarity of purpose and communication.  It is getting clearer and clearer to me, the "why" of my writing. So much so that yesterday as I  was meditating; I  paused and grew in quiet and  I knew it was upon me to overcome natural tendency of my regular flow of writing.  It was upon me to become more systematic in my approach.

I have this friend.  She'll read this and  smile.  A most unlikely friendship we will say. We do say. There are moments we couldn't be more far apart on the way we view things, but the most precious elements of life keep us connected.  What I have realized about this friend is that in her wisdom she will (in kindness not judgement) help me see how others perceive my journey.  We had this really great conversation the other day.  She bore her heart.  She acknowledges it is for me to journey.  She wants me to learn how to bring back the realities of it in a way that empowers more understanding not less. She communicated in a beautiful fashion that I am able bring an articulation to  this path that can be helpful.  She was right. I need to care. I have taken steps. I knew not the way. I knew only the hunger.  It has taken everything for me to journey this way and if in going back I can set out a few bread crumbs to make it easier for the next hungry soul, then that is what I can do.

I can learn a more systematic approach. On the forefront, however, I will say time and time again, this wasn't a planned out journey. It was a bumbling, haphazard, "I sure hope this right, and please stop me if it isn't," kind of journey.  I leaned on the promise of the good shepherd, that he comes after the ones that need Him to bring correction to path.  That is why any of you, who have thought I have diverted, haven't carried the weight of your words. You see I have looked to the Heavens and there is no "shepherd" coming (having left the proverbial 99) to come get me, telling me I have been led astray.  If anything there has been a shove in the fanny that I'm not moving fast enough.

The more I find my articulation. I can feel the courage growing.  It isn't without fear. At times the fear is immense.  I'm working it out.  The beauty and wonder and awe of it is, however found in  the realization of the immense hunger that is in you too.  We are hungry.  Our eyes have seen, our ears are hearing and our hearts are yearning.  We know there is more than the spoon filled, entitlement based religion that we bought into.  We have to admit it served us. It served us or we wouldn't have stayed.  Maybe we were needing to belong so that we "put up" with the behaviors that ran prevalent. Maybe we didn't trust that without the "label," of this or that ministry, church or organization we wouldn't be much on our own.  Maybe it was just enough to be a part of something larger then ourselves that we were willing to undermine our own spiritual growth to listen to the said "expert," though in the depths of our hearts we knew something was off or we knew that we had known ourselves what was being taught.. we just weren't confident to really believe it.  We were fed company line that this DNA or that way of doing things put us ahead.

Did we ever stop to think, ahead of what?

Each other?

The Body of Christ, the fellowship of all believers?

In our spiritual arrogance and pride we dished out milk and left the meat alone or ate it secretly in our closets.  We've gone starving waiting for someone else to teach us, when we negated that in the Holy Spirit we have the greatest counselor and teacher within ourselves.

Maybe it isn't all like what I've written. You see, I refuse to throw the Bride of Christ aka the Church (big C) under the bus.  There are huge political and social issues that we get wrong. There are places where we fuck up more and are so inbred, that  our socially minded counterparts of society show us up daily for being more humanitarian and loving.  There are places, more than naught, that we only confirm Ghandi's words. When asked by E. Stanley Jones how Christianity could come to India, Mr. Ghandi replied; "I would suggest first of all that all of you Christians, missionaries and all begin to live more like Jesus Christ."

I lived a veneer. I want depth.  I have drank milk for far to long, I have heeded the songs of the ancient past that yearn for me to turn towards solid food, to grow and mature.  I am no longer an infant. I am not longer a child. The version of Christian scripture, called The Message, writes it this way; "When I was an infant at my mother’s breast, I gurgled and cooed like any infant. When I grew up, I left those infant ways for good."

We have watched a whole generation of leaders, let us stay in infancy, as they lived privileged and entitled lives. In our immaturity and fear we have seen behavior and known the man or woman behind the pulpit, seen the behavior in the staff meeting or private lives, bought all the identical clothes as to "be the brand" of a specific church staff team, and so many other horrors.  Have we empowered each other to live lives more congruent with Christ, as He really is, not as the American church would make Him?   Have we risked our own lives and our ministry identities, positions, etc for something more? Are we playing it safe? Are we touting company line because we know it will move us up the chain of command within our specific sect?

There isn't anything I write about that I haven't participated in or seen.  Covering up indiscretion because money needs to be made and books need to be sold and a church needs to be a platform for such things!!!
I'm sorry I never did think that was the heart of Christ for His church, matter of fact I think He once upon toppled tables as He shared His heart about His Father's temple.

We can scream about the proverbial pole of yoga in the eyes of others, but as Christians we need to take a look inward first.  It's time to clean house.  We have created a whole industry that benefits off the backs of widows and orphans. Instead of serving them we have been served by them. Asking them to pledge the little money or time they have so that some immense ministry can build another building.  It is not looking good.  We have grown irrelevant, and there really is nothing irrelevant about who Christ was as a man and as the expression of divinity walking upon the face of the Earth.

I do digress.

I'm going to get systematic about the discussion of Christianity and Yoga.  I find my past within the circles of Christianity that I walked an interesting foundation in which to enter such a conversation.  I was found by Christ through a visitation. I absolutely adore the reality of the Spirit.  I have taught empaths, seers, and revelatory people for decades on how to use their senses to go beyond the physical world and see and feel and know the unseen seeable realm.  This journey isn't new. It is a continuation.  I have taught Christians how to leave religious language aside and find an expression that touches heart beat and truest reality of Spiritual things and places. It isn't really a new walk. It is the way of my life.  I want to make it clear I am not defending yoga.  Yoga needs no defense.

I am willing to help with an articulate and intelligent, spiritual  conversation that has life and depth within it.  There is more that we all have in common then that which separates us, and it is fear and pride that fill any gulf of separation.  I want love.  A strong not patsy love.  A more perfected love that has a light so bright that all darkness and shadow are burned away.  The spirit of religious fundamentalism comes to kill, rob and destroy. It does not bring life.  It cares not what form it comes in either.  Religious fundamentalism steals the very freedom of choice that the Creator imbued humanity with,  it says my way or you are the infidel and are to be feared, taught against, and killed. That is not the heart beat of the Ultimate Divine reality that is found in the Spirit of all things.

There is so much yet to say. This journey will take us a while.  There is no place for accusation here, this is a place for dialogue and conversation.  Step by step we will learn together discernment, growing up in love we will find a pathway to walk upon. There is a place where in maturity we can see and hear and know.. no longer clanging gongs being noise to a world that doesn't want to hear anything we have to say, there will be a city of light upon a hill where life is lived in exemplary love.. there will be a resounding sound full of life and beauty, wonder and love, joy and peace and it will be well................


Is this a Christian worshipping? A yogi doing Sun Salutation? A man? A woman? Can you look at this picture and see beauty and wonder and awe as a human being takes a stance of praise? Can you see similarity and not fear?  This isn't about getting it right or wrong... this is about love!

Once again I visit the Christian/yoga conversation.

I'm a stream of consciousness writer. I get that about myself.  At times within my life I have had great editors. I need great editors.  The reality of stream of consciousness is that I have to be willing to sink into my gut and close my eyes and write.  If I feel inhibited in anyway, the words won't flow.  And right now in life, I want the words to flow.  I want them to flow in a way that brings life and not confusion.  I want peace and not contention. I hunger for understanding and growth as a person and for people I love. However I don't want to settle.  I have tasted and seen the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living and it is amazing!

So I close my eyes and I breathe in deeply and with my writing begin to slowly exhale.

I'm going to make an audacious statement. I make it not to piss you off, but I make it because it is true.  I stand at a place in my life where  I've never known and loved Christ the way I do in these days. I have seen where in my life I was the proverbial pharisee.  I have seen where I stood so precariously on an edge of thinking I was doing all the right things however not knowing nor being known as a person before God.

In these days I have learned to stand and feel strong.  What is that? Having done all stand.  Mountain pose.
In these days I have learned to be like a child and allow myself grace.  What is that? Become like a child. Child's pose.
In these days I have learned to (ok. tried to learn .. this one is hard for me) ground down and grow roots. What is that ? Being rooted in good soil.  Tree pose.
In these days I have learned to see things from a different perspective. What is that? It's a upside down reality of a kingdom where the poor are rich, the weak are strong, etc... Head stand.  Be willing to see from a different perspective.


What has been the path? Well... for me and my life I have found the foundation of spirituality to be in Christ. But as He is not as anyone would attempt to make Him.  There is so much more of God to know.  Having eyes to see I really want to see, having ears that can hear I really want to hear, having been given a heart that can comprehend I want to receive understanding even when it comes in a package different than I ever anticipated.  I think that is how the founder of my faith entered Creation as a human baby, turning the religious world of His time on its head.  I don't think the struggle to understand, receive, and grow as Spirit is leading is a new one. I don't think that opposition to the reality of that leading is a new one either.  I also don't stand having many answers.  I don't. I am on a journey, and the stopping points upon the way are unknown. I have more questions than ever before, and am learning that to live in the place of unknowing can be unsettling at best but it is a great place to stand for personal and spiritual growth.

What I do is  I live with the intention to keep two prayers ever before me... Lord, my God who are you and who am I? (St. Francis of Assisi) and Spirit of the Living God, as it was said of you, to be your task.. please, lead me into all truth.  Those two prayers are my compass, my road map, my orientation....When having begun to pray them over the last couple of years, I would have never (in my wildest imagination) been able to picture the life and love and liberty I touch now.

So yoga? Yes! Yoga.... I stand firm.  Listen, Peter had a vision as he laid upon a roof top and in a moment there was no longer clean and unclean food.  The people of that age struggled over what it meant for a whole other people group to be coming into Spiritual awakening without being circumcised first.  People were coming to life and being made full in Spirit and the religious of the day stood gasping. I can imagine screaming, "wait.. wait." The ways once known were being disrupted.  Spirit was being poured out upon all flesh.

So I go to a yoga studio.  I partake in all aspects. I have never felt more alive or more free within my faith or strong as a person who loves God.  The constraints of a religious life have fallen off of me and I have found and am finding the freedom of Spirit. Where the Spirit of the Lord is there is freedom.  I have found an interior life, that is more resounding with the Christ I said I served for decades, but didn't fully touch. I have left (as much as I can and am trying to do so more) exterior facades of faith for an interior reality that is more faithful to the ways of God.

I have written and please, God, hope to write even more for any spiritual community that can hear and feel Spirit in the words that I hunger to put to paper, (web). I will walk into proverbial samaria and every place it would be said that, "we don't go," because the founder of my faith did just that.  I love people more than I ever have and I meet more of them now that I ever did, I sit with people now without agenda and begin to know them and let them begin to know me...

I am not out to convince anyone that they have to do yoga.  I do believe that as a population we need to understand how to breathe in a way that actually brings life to our bodies. I do believe that bringing movement and breath and practice together helps calm the mind, take every thought captive, and bring forth a mind that is more at peace.  I do believe discernment and not fear is the way of love and life and liberty.

I will end (for now) with a story...

It was a poignant moment for me. Maybe because so many of you have told me I'm going to hell. Oh please.. tongue in cheek there. Although many of you have. I'm smiling and understanding the journey as best as any of us can.

I want you to picture the scene with me; huge meeting tent, torrential down pour of rain, lightening and thunder and speakers that were still plugged into a live source of electricity. I stood with two others as we were attempting to wait out the storm.  The conversation drifted into a place that would open my eyes to reality of spirituality in many traditions.  A portion of the conversation was upon Sanskrit and the pronunciation.

My experience into yoga has been beautiful.  The places I partake in yoga practice are open and flowing. I hadn't nor have I ever encountered a rigidity of thought or practice.  It doesn't mean it isn't out there.  It just has not been my experience. So within the conversation, there was a statement made that there are some within yoga community who the exact pronunciation of words means so much to that to mispronounce a word would send said person, who mispronounced, to hell.  The moment was a "taking in information," moment for me. When one prays to the divine do the words matter? The words matter? Maybe to some but what is what? I did also think for a moment upon how the religious of all traditions sound a like. This way (my way of this way) or hell. Gosh, what options. (We have that in Christendom. For as many YouTube videos anyone can find about yoga and Christianity and what that's all about, there are plenty of videos within the "tribe" Baptists saying Charismatics are going to Hell, Charismatics and Pentecostals saying that  unless one speaks in tongues they are going to hell. I mean.. misstep and its fire and flames for us all I guess.) Ok I soooo got off topic.  But instead of focusing on hell and who is and isn't going there, I want to pour my heart out and love, I want to set my gaze rightly and love and see people for the light that each one is....

Finishing up....  In the midst of the conversation, the most beautiful words would be spoken. It was a remembrance of what was taught to them. Would a mother chastise a toddler for mispronouncing a word? Love triumphs over all.
Isn't that the basis of all true spirituality? Love one another! For the world is so loved!

These aren't my most articulate pieces. They just aren't.  I'm sorting through myself. I'm wanting to walk with love and wisdom. I don't want to be angry or afraid. At the same time resisting the urge to be trite and petty. I'm human. Part of this conversation pisses me off. And I could easily go off on a tirade. I know myself. Except that isn't what my heart really wants.  I understand there is new ground and that this person says this and that person says that and what are you to believe?  I'd say trust and know that asking for bread you will not be given a stone.  If you seek true understanding it will come. Search out and seek for yourself, be open ... I choose to believe that all of us want to have eyes that really see, ears that really hear and hearts that really can ever so slightly comprehend the ways of The Spirit as much as humanity can.

Maybe we can lose the "hell" talk for a while and just talk......... That would be my greatest heart's desire...

A year without fear.... Week 3: Habits are forming and fun is being found

This morning I got up early, grabbed my car keys and made my trek to Heritage Park.

I pulled into the gravel parking lot and paused as I sat in my car.  I love this place. I love watching the sun rise..  Sundays mark the transition to a new week.  They are the perfect reminder for me to pause, and remember that seven more days have passed.  Another week has been lived. The journey is taking on steam.

WEEK 3 BEGINS!!!!

They say it takes 21 days to build a habit....
My new habit... Well, it is actually living a life I would want to and showing up to said life as the me I would want to be/become.

I don't always bring my journal to my outings.  There are times I just want to sit quietly without pen and paper. However today felt like a day to carry along the pages that hold my heart's truest expression.

Sitting among the grass, the rocks, the sky, the colors, the morning my heart took flight.

My first sentence reverberated a sentiment that began years ago.. That statement that began to ricochet throughout my entire being.  "I can't do this anymore."  I've written about that time in many other posts.  Again, not wanting to live from a place of negativity I set out to discover what then I could do, what then I wanted to do.

The first sentence I wrote today; "I didn't want the life I was living. I didn't really know what I wanted. BUT I admitted the truth to myself."  That was a huge step.  To allow myself to hear myself. To allow my heart to really speak, not that which it was programmed to through life and religion but what it really wanted to say... Myself would be my first audience, a trusted few my second.. the world my third!

I realized how much I had pushed that expression down because of fear... but I let the most secret of desires become the  slightest of whispers  and smile now as they become liken more unto a shout, song. A truer reverberation of my soul.

The joy and trepidation I feel these days, at times equally, eventually do bring a smile to my face. The what ifs try to taunt.. What if I fail? What if I can't do this? What if it everything just is a flop? But I'm now getting really good at turning those what ifs around!  What if I can do this? What if I succeed? What if everything soars?  Those have their own places to adjust towards.  But the energy and vitality that those what ifs create versus the wet blanket syndrome of the other what ifs, I'll take any day.

Have you started yet?  Are you working of the "Days before the Year without Fear?"  What do you do?

1. Pause and Get Quiet. What are the whispers of your heart that want to be heard? What life would you want to be living?  Listen to me... Not all the answers are going to be grandiose. They better not be :)  Simple and small steps, cultivating the seeds of hope and new life, listening to the soul's song and hearing it's melody. That is a huge first step.
2. Find Some Trusted People.  Not all my peeps in this arena were "old friends."  Actually some of them were very new to my life.  Be Honest With Yourself.  (And others as you can)  Honesty crushes fear. I remember the days sitting in the office of an episcopal priest. (A new faithful friend) as I could say things and ask questions that didn't rock his world though they were creating very high scores on the Richter Scale in mine. What? Find people who your new doubts, fears, discoveries, questions won't affect.  The people in my immediate sphere couldn't or wouldn't always handle the questions I wanted or needed to ask,  my changes and challenges were too close to home.  Find those who really can be objective. The people who have nothing to gain and nothing to lose from changes and challenges in your life.
3. Take The First Steps.  Be open to the fact that they might not always be what you might think they are... Sometimes it is just sitting with a "new friend," asking the hard questions that are coursing through your frame. Sometimes it is taking that first step, meeting that new person, going to a new group meeting.  Sometimes it is just journaling and being more honest with yourself then maybe you ever have, even in your very own journal.  
4. Keep Walking...  There will be days that you might feel like Lot's wife.  She looked back and turned to salt.  Let me tell you looking back won't turn you into salt. And there is actually a lot to say about this. But for now be aware nostalgia takes on different forms. When the world starts to change (even in small ways), you might think it was better before you started out upon your journey.  It wasn't. Find the place within or the good friend that will remind you.  As the song 2am, aka Breathe, says you are just as far in as you are out... KEEP WALKING!!!!  It will get better. And then it won't. Then it will.  Then it won't. But then it will and you will begin to discover that though it has its ups and downs, living the more true expression of your life is a life worth living then any shadow of such a thing.
5. Laugh, Cry, Shout................. (or Journal)  Feel and express and keep notes....  I have a journal for last July.. The first page has this desire upon it.. "I want to know more about the Body, Soul, Spirit connection.) On July 16, 2014 I hadn't even started yoga. I had begun to walk more true to a spiritual journey that was laying its claim upon my life, but I hadn't taken physical steps away from that which I didn't want to do anymore. I was beginning to count and understand the personal cost of what my journey forward might entail, I really had no clue.  But having a journal to go back to and smile at and realize how far I have come upon the journey... brings both smiles and tears.  It also brings courage.

So for this week... here is just a brief overview of some of my steps of breaking away from a fearful life and finding a life that's full....

I admitted I was good at something in front of someone. I heard my own voice and heart be willing to say, I can do this... That takes more courage then one might think.  At the same time allowed myself to be taught.  Continued to admit I wanted something different, though the continued cost bears down upon me at times in ways that I can't fully fathom stealing my breath away.  I remind myself to find my breath!  Asked an awkward question that showed I didn't really understand a response I got but got the answer I needed and it was all ok.  Stepped closer and closer to my dream. (Sent out a recording to my mentor of me teaching some yoga students.)  AND.....  Last week I face the week and day that marked the one year anniversary of my beloved Auntie passing away.... Folks if that is all I did last week that would have been more than enough... But amidst memories flooding of in, recapping events of the year past, I would show up to life and live.....

So stepping into week 3... I have my list of things I  am going to do and I am also aware that surprises are always upon the path... Here's to facing the known and the unknown

A year without fear continues........................................

Joy unspeakable finds expression...

“Mims.”

“Mims, come with me.”

I looked up and saw Him and smiled. Closed my eyes, hugged my pillow, pulled my blanket back up over me.

“You aren't dreaming. I want you to wake up. I want you to take a walk with me. I want to show you something.” As if a young child on Christmas morning, He was being so insistent. As for me I was in that in between place, though I had heard Him; though I could now see Him, my room, my bed, I was still unconvinced this was really happening. Or that it couldn't wait a few minutes while I woke up.

“Come with me.”

I looked up at Him one more time. One more time rolled over. I could feel His presence growing in the room. I smiled at the ways He moves upon humanity. Other memories of other times with Him, with all that makes up the unseen, made me smile. I lifted my body out of bed. Went to the bathroom. I could feel excitement brewing. I knew not why.

“Look out the window.” He said with the grandest of smiles.

Now it was Christmas morning for me; as my smile must have turned grand. Filling up my backyard were animals of all sorts. I noticed the creature that had once come to my laundry room delivering a message, others both of this world and of other places. And I smiled. Then it wasn't just animals. To my right were different ones who I had touched, interacted with, been protected by; again, it was my smile, my Christmas morning.

“Why?”

“Because Christmas morning does arrive and extravagance is called for upon occasion. I wanted to lift your heart and make it glad.”

“You did.”

“Can I tell you something?” He said in such a weird way.

“You actually ask permission?” Was my reply.

“More often then you think.”

That statement gave me pause. The power behind it pulled my attention to look Him in the face. There was great strength there, along with it was immense sorrow, concern, and a fragility I didn't know if I had ever seen upon Him before. Reminiscent of Him as having emptied Himself of divinity, He understood our frame, He knew our frailty. That knowledge, that experience would never leave His personhood. While now in fullness; there were still the scars, still the remembrance, still the experience upon Him. I reached for His hand. The moment became more. I know not the words to describe. I lack them. In this moment my heart was reaching towards Him, compassion for Him, compassion for the knowledge He bore. It was still. It was quiet. It was between us. Creature caring about Creator. Human caring about Divine.

The essence of the atmosphere pulsated. Again no words. I hadn't been able to keep His gaze, hold my eyes towards His face in such a long time. Now, I couldn't take my glance away. I kept seeing deeper and deeper into His holiness, into His desire. Something was changing deep within me. I was caring more and more about Him, about His ways, about what He wanted. I dared not speak. Our hearts held each other. My heart cared more for Him than I ever imagined possible, while walking into the depths of openness of His, that while I knew possible, I had never touched nor certainly ever walked within.

“Know me.” He whispered. Tears streaming down His face. It wasn't a man pleading. It was my God imploring.

In that phrase, “More often then you think,” He had said more than if He had sat me down to give me one thousand and twenty lessons. In those five words, I was held within a space, a glance, that poured His essence into me and through me and upon me.

There was no moving. There was no more words to say. There was to allow that which had transpired to go deep. Not ready to move forward unto the next moment. This one hadn't come to fullness into my depths yet. It needed time.

Again my gaze found His face. His mercy, His compassion, His knowledge, His understanding, His nature, His nurture, Him; all was found there. We were separate in these moments; each our own unique and different self, except as the moment grew, so did something more. The space between us became less. I was still me. He was still He. Yet not so much. I closed my eyes. I closed my eyes as to partake into depths of this that sight would not allow but sensation would. I needed to close my eyes, not process with my mind, allow my heart its journey.

He began to sing. “You and me......” and I smiled. My heart smiled. Again I paused. In my head I spoke to myself, 'I am not in a rush.' To which He burst out with the grandest of laughs I think I had ever heard. “What?”

“I love you.” He said while still smiling as His body still moved with the fragrance of joy, laughter, delightful pleasure. “What?” Not asking in regards to His statement of love, more in repetition to my earlier question.

“You, you make me glad.” Was His response. He spoke the words, your thought, at the same time that my awareness arrived at the realization that He needed me not to speak to know that which was my thoughts. “Ah,” I said, “That I'm not scurrying away in a pace you've been trying to convince me isn't right for me right now.” There were no words in His response, just a large smile.

Then again it was His turn to become like the child upon the morning of Christmas. The spark flew back into His eyes. If possible His joy increased a million fold. Palpable to every sense and sensation upon my flesh. “Are you careful with that?” I wasn't even aware those words were going to come out of my mouth. “What?” He playfully answered. I knew He knew even more about this conversation about to take place than I, however I played my part and continued, “Your joy.”

I continued again, “It felt like an atomic atom splitting wide open, yet you keep it so that creature and creation can touch it.”

He looked at me. “I wish I knew what you were thinking in moments like these,” I said. “Your look is deep, what you know and understand deeper still. I wish I knew what ran through your thoughts.”

“You are touching them more and more now.” Was His reply as He looked at me, holding my glance His way, being serious in the moment.

“This is part of the call to know you.”

“It is.”

So many thoughts ran through my head, so many of the lessons He had been teaching me, and I began to let them interweave together. Forming out my soul with the seeds of understanding He had been planting for a very long time.

“This time with you feels different.”

“It is.”

“We aren't in a hurry.”

“We?”

I paused. Looked back at Him. I knew what He was saying, “I. I am not in a hurry.”

“Correct.”

“I love you.” Was all I could say.

“I love you too.”

Those words were out of His mouth and the atmosphere went back to such playfulness that laughter broke out. Not from either of us, per se, but from all, from everywhere, from everything, from every molecule and every drop of air. Laughter. Pleasure. Grand delight.

He grabbed my hand and we were gone.

Whisked away.

Landing, I was startled. Feet once again back upon soil. I quickly tried to gather my barrings about me.

Again, away.

Next it was as if I was waking from a dream, but I was awake. The air sparkled. It sang if I listened carefully. I could hear it and not. You know that place in life when you think you hear something so you lean into it to see if you had and what it was? Well, this was like that? There was a song upon the air. Not coming from a distance as if it would only get closer I could hear it better. No. It was if I only settled deeper, quieter, more still. Then I would be able to hear its “all” more. There was no better word to describe it.

I was leaning against a rock. I stretched my legs out in front of me. By my toes was the sweetest of streams. The air sparkled crisp, clean, lovely. Colorful. That was what was different. It was all taking me a while. The hues. The colors. They were different. They were more. They were alive. They were with the air filling everything with that song, that music. Everything was alive beyond alive. Everything was color beyond color. Everything danced. Everything was joy. Everything was life. And still I leaned against the rock. I leaned my head back upon it as I kept my eyes open. I felt it smile. The rock.

I got up. Began to walk. Looked into the stream. Smiled. Trying to take in all that I was seeing within stream, air; all about me was fragrance. All about me was lovely. I walked down a ways. A gate without a fence was in the middle of a meadow. I went up and touched it. Smiled. I kept journeying forward. In the meadow was a tree. I could have stared at that tree for ages. It was enough. There were those around it. We smiled at one another. No words passed through our lips. They didn't need to come. Utterance felt as if it would be less than. We simply knew one another deeply.

Playfulness erupted. Ribbons, hands, dance. That song got richer and richer, higher and higher, more and more. Around and around the tree we played, danced,

Then all was laughter. Then all was quiet. In what seemed was simply the flash of a second. I was alone with the tree. It was ok. I leaned up against it. Placing my hand upon its trunk. There was no breath to be caught. Just joy to be had.

A tall being of light appeared in front of me. I had known Him before. He did not feel new. We were to walk together. What felt like only a few steps but could have been one hundred miles became our journey. No words ever exchanged. Just the walk.

I was back to the rock. Back to the stream.

I took a nap. I took a nap as the stream gurgled, as the air sang, as beauty lived.

All I can say was I woke up as something licked me. I woke up to something licking me. And all that that entailed. I knew I had been dreaming. But then I was awake. Rock, stream, and beauty all still there. But what had licked me was gone. Had I been in the dream? It felt real.

I leaned back up against the rock; to say I loved it, to say that it felt familiar, to say all I could say about it would be to try and say too much. But I did. I loved it. It felt warm as if it had absorbed a million rays of sunshine.

I closed my eyes. I opened them. I closed them one more time. I knew something was different. Something was changing. Stream, rock and sound was moving. Or was it me? I closed my eyes one more time. Living room, toys, sounds of a different nature. I smiled.

“It isn't over.”

“Hhhhmmm? I said as if I was drowsy. ” More beyond relaxed then tired. Everything in me felt at ease.

I stared at Him. I smiled. I curled up upon sofa, with blanket tilting my head towards the pillow, He interrupted, “It isn't over yet. There is something else I want you to experience. Come with me.”

“You're so playful this morning.” I said.

“My joy is complete.” He raised His hand for me to take. As I took it, I felt it and then raised my glance to His, “Thank you,” I whispered. So much more left unsaid. “You're welcome.” Such a simple response to such profound realities.

“I love you.” It came from the depths of me. It was the truest, it was the only thing I could say. “I know.” He smiled.

Then it wasn't sofa I was curled up upon, leaning against. Still Him. Different form. I laughed. “Show off.” But I leaned further in, pushed up against, felt the firmness of His side; lifted and fell as He breathed in and out. I pushed up against again as I shifted my position. I wanted to both lean against and see. It was going to take some adjustment.

He just began to talk. He talked and talked and talked for hours. He talked about all sorts of things. I just leaned against Him; looking, listening.. taking it all in. When what felt like days had passed, he paused. “Want to take a walk?” He asked. “With you?” I answered. “Always.” He turned His great head my way, “ not always.” The moment hung. He had made His point. He had made it well. It had hung and landed with the weight He had wanted it to; having made that point, however He bumped His large frame against me and ran forward, beginning a game of catch me if you can. We ran and played for again what seemed like hours.

As time appeared to shift, I felt the ending of our time coming. I shifted. “Don't do that.” He stopped. Turned His head to look at me. “It is amazing to see you talk to me like this.”

“You see me,” he went on. I was touched. He spoke about how I saw Him in all forms, in all places, in all times. How when I see Him upon the dew in the morning, it blessed Him. How I see Him in laughter, enthralled Him. How I see Him in light, color, sound, sunset, sunrise, clouds, blankets, children, people, buildings, nature, earth; it gives Him peace, rest, life. He spoke of how in every moment I don't take for granted His presence, how He taught me to hold it as a gift and let it come and go. He spoke things I knew not about myself. He spoke things I just did and do that I never think matter. And He kept speaking.

He took such a deep breathe that He rose me up, not to my feet, but with significance. I could feel He knew the times were shifting too. I could feel His ache. “That matters to me,” I said.

The Lion lowered His head, “I love these times too. They aren't just for you.”

“One day,” I said.

“One day.” He replied back with a gaze that undid me. His hunger, His desire, His yearning so very much greater than my own.

We took our time with each other, each exchanging our affections, each talking non-consequential things.

What conversation does God want to have?

What are the conversations you hear? What are the conversations you take an active part within? I've sat more recently paying attention to these things. What are the conversations I want to have? What the conversations that are good to be having? What are the conversations that just fill up the air ways?

More recently I have continued upon this journey; touching the hem of silence, of listening. More recently I sit back wondering if I ever really heard myself before, so many words spilling out of so many mouths, making me wonder what is really being said. More importantly what is really being listened to? So many voices, so many words, so much information. Not a new conversation within the twenty-first century. The lost art of listening. The lost art of paying attention, of watching, of looking. The conversation, itself, happening so often in so many different genres, making the reality of how much it is talked about a tad bit humorous. Maybe less talk, more practice?

Stillness.

Silence.

Quietness.

I hear the political conversations. Those will only increase as the year continues. The force of angry words filling the air waves. The push to hear all the words that are being spoken. I hear the social justice conversations. The thoughts about people, race, economic issues. People taking to violent measures. Some say its a charade. Others are living the reality. Every where there is a message. Every where there are sounds. Every where there is a stirring.

People feel it. It is in the hearts of women and men. It is in the air. An explosive uneasiness at times.

I sit back more now than I have in a very long time, possibly more than I ever have. Pausing, listening have become a huge part of my life. The psalmist encouragement towards, “Selah.” It has captured my heart. My attention. My focus. I know now that my being was always conditioned as a watcher, a listener. I just didn't value those qualities. Who does?

These have been a couple years of major adjustment. Shedding skins that were never mine to wear. Touching their dried up shells as they lay strewn across the landscape of my life. Moments where I thought I was so smart, or where time spent and expertise acquired gave me something seemingly important to say. Seemingly now foolishness. I will admit, as I'm still in this process, I am not then in a place to accurately describe the last couple of decades. Time and healing and stillness will help me to tell one day.

Yesterday, in my personal journal, I found myself wondering about conversations, communication; words. Yesterday I sat back, looked up into the heavens, and thought about the reality that every idle word spoken is recorded set aside one day to be judged. I take the Christian scriptures seriously in my life. I believe in it there is much life found. In a particular chapter and verse, Matthew 12:36, it is written as it is believed to be spoken by Christ. “But I tell you that every careless word that people speak, they shall give an accounting for it in that day.”

I thought about that verse. I thought about many things yesterday. I thought about many times. I have met too many people who want to say, “the new thing,” “In this season,” etc etc... the words Solomon shared with us contain statements like there is nothing new under the sun and for everything there is a time and a season. There is an allowance always made for such talk however, a lacking of accountability for our words spoken or articulated in a revelatory type manor.

I lose focus somewhat.

I was thinking about the political conversations people of Christian faith enter into, I was thinking of the social justice conversations that people of Christian faith enter into, and then I was thinking of the words that Christ spoke. Then I thought of the things Christ did and didn't do. Then I thought of idle words. Then I thought of Jesus only doing that which He saw being done by He who He loved, His Father.

So here are some of the things that circled in my mind. Ah before I go there... I would like to share that grief overtook me. Personally. Places where I thought I was getting somethings so “right.” Wondering now how “wrong” I was. Places where I hunger to know, to see, to act, to be intrinsically the way I was wired to behave and no longer contort or morph myself into some version of me that isn't true. I did those things. I made choices. I want a different way.

Back to the thoughts...

Do we think about Jesus who was transfigured upon a mountain top with a friend and a man who had been dead for a long time? Do we think about that occurrence? What it means about time and space and life in general? Do we wonder how that affects us now? Why would the transfiguration matter? Why wouldn't it? What social, economic, political implications would a supernatural happening have?

I thought about how Jesus, Himself, expressed that the poor would always be upon the earth and there are some times when acts of extravagance aren't wrong. I wondered how my social justice friends touch that scripture.

I thought about how in the times Jesus' feet walked the soil of the earth, there was the Roman government. I thought of all those that wanted Jesus to be a political force in the way that they could understand. I thought of their agendas. I thought of a bunch of my own. I thought of their behaviors. I looked at my own.

I thought of Judas who stole money from his friends, but had a heart that the Roman rule would be overturned. He had deep hunger for that reality. In his eyes, within his heart; Judas wanted Jesus to be something very specific. Judas didn't have much room for that reality not to be so. Before we throw Judas under the bus, I want to make sure in that arena I look thoroughly into my own eye and remove the pole before taking a glance at the dust in Juda's.

I thought of political conversations. I thought of social justice conversations. Then I was glad we don't have television. Then I thought of Christ. Then I thought of Him weeping over Jerusalem. Then I thought of Him feeding the people. Then I thought of Him receiving the children. Then I thought of Him receiving the gift of expensive perfume. Then I thought of His rebukes to friend and foe. Then I thought of His life, His habits, His sorrows, His joys.

Then I thought of Him weeping over the death of Lazarus, His friend. Then I thought of Him needing John as much as John needed Him. John reclined but Jesus received. I thought of Mary and Jesus. Both His mother and the woman whose life He utterly changed forever. I thought of Jesus and culture and people and Heaven and Unseen realities and seen ones.

I thought and I thought and the pictures and ideas swirled within my head.

Why?

Why so much thinking?

I want to know Him as He is and NOT as I have made Him.

These are the words I wrote in my journal:

“With the conversations that take one side of the spectrum either social justice; that the church at large or people in general don't recognize the needs of the poor, the fringe, the destitute enough. We, especially in America, certainly have more than just our mats and our one cloak. The morality side of Christian life and/or politics, conservative agenda type things, examines our lives to see if they conform enough to whatever acceptable standards of righteousness the religious elite dictate as being “righteous” relegating whole people groups into “sinnners” who are going to burn in “hell.”

So many conversations. Politically. Socially. We are comfortable with those.. We/I have picked and chosen the “Jesus,” we/I want to follow.

But I find myself wondering about Jesus of the transfiguration. What about the Jesus of the Spirit?

What about Jesus being comforted by the angel in the garden? What about angels who would comfort people now? What about Jesus cursing the fig tree, turning water into wine, creating a meal for thousands? What about the reality of Jesus saying the Meek will rule? What about Jesus saying the last will be first and the first will be last? Do we see people that way? What about in our weakness we are strong? Do any of us gladly embrace weakness to touch His strength?

I love the passions people who love Jesus hold as the passions Jesus has, and that is not a sarcastic statement at all. If social justice is a passion, let it be a passion. Jesus did love the widows, the poor, the foreigner. He also withdrew to quiet, lonely and isolated places to be alone with His God. Whatever one's passionate path leads them to love and serve humanity as one desires should be followed. Making, then, the adjustments as life moves forward. Stagnation and inactivity aren't the answers. Silence, stillness and rest aren't in my heart nor vocabulary synonymous with “stagnation,” “Inactivity.”

I came to the place where holding in tension as many things as I could, I went to touch the hem of Jesus' garment. He is and was and forever will be all that He is, and for as long as I live I will hear multitudes of conversations. It's the depths of my desires to listen for the ones that Christ listens to, it's my deepest heart hunger to look for the hearts', that exist within the bodies ,who also have a mouth that speak with authentically held values, beliefs, and passions. Then it is my ultimate hunger to be one who like the elder man, Simeon; waits, watches, believes for that which will be done. One day seeing events hoped for unfold before his very eyes; touching and holding realities deeply within until the day there was an actual baby in his arms.

Time to live....

"Hi."
"Hi."
"There is much on your heart. So early in the morning. Is this really how you want to start the day?"
I just smiled. Sat there. Looked. Tears started streaming down my face.
"I have nothing to say."
I knew He could say that He disagreed. He had before. I knew He wouldn't this morning.
"You are worried over many things. Your heart is troubled. Take a walk with me. Yes?"
"You're my therapist now?"
"Well, I am called The Counselor."
We both smiled.
Sometimes just looking at Him, sometimes just being still in His presence is enough. No words need pass between us. Presence becomes more than enough.  I closed my eyes. Took in a deep breathe. I opened my eyes, tilting my head towards the right I just stared.  Again tears fell. Without speaking a word, I knew He knew all.  Everything. So I just kept looking. Keeping eyes open, closing them ever so briefly, keeping them closed. Letting myself be. Letting myself ache. Letting myself cry.

No longer was I watching Him across the room. No longer He in the chair, I on the sofa.  Now my head was upon His shoulder, my body held... held up, for my feet were giving way.
"Will it always hurt this bad?"
"Yes, no, sometimes."
Startled, I moved my body away, (Only slightly, just enough to look up at His face.) "You want to pick one?" But I had been so startled that He had caused me to laugh a little too.  Tear stained checks pulled up in a grin. Only He can do this to me.
"Sometimes it will be worse."
"You make a crappy counselor, you know."
It was His turn to smile.
"Rest." And He put His very large hand on the back of my head, holding me into His chest. "Breathe." "Just Be."
All seemed to fade away.  In that moment, all seemed to be quiet. I'm not talking my home. I'm not saying the early morning hours in my room. I'm saying all seemed to fall into a quieted place.
I whispered, "I love you."
I felt movement in His body, "I know." He looked down towards me. I could feel His chin move across the top of my head. I could feel Him making a decision though I knew not what. Taking my hand, He spoke; "Come with me."

Then we were walking upon a different shore line, my feet sinking into the ground that is neither sand nor water.  Upon the waters edges we were walking.  Solid ground under my feet, as the waters rolled in from the tides creating a glistening walkway mirroring back our shadows upon the wet, hard sand.

Again words were so few.  Spirit was solid.  Feelings were being transmitted as if through the air. Words felt as if they didn't have to pass between us. The movement of feeling, spirit, atmosphere... Him, collided and I stopped walking.
He was gone.  I blinked. He was gone. Stunned I scanned the horizon. No, He was gone. I didn't quite know what to do.  I stood there, lost.  Frozen. Stunned. Weren't we just side by side. Where did He go?  What was I now to do?  In the absence I gently closed my eyes. In the moment I placed my feet underneath me grounding myself further into the sand beneath my feet.  In the moment I stilled myself.

"Look what you can do."
"You suck as a counselor you know."
Right side of His face turned up in a smile as eyes gleamed my way.
"What happened to never leaving."
"I didn't leave you."
"Uhm, says you."
His voice grounded in depths of kindness I had never heard prior to this moment and I had heard Him a lot.  "I never leave you."

He caused my mind to race back to the days when attending a school in Wenham, MA,  having just met Him only months before, He had pulled such a "trick."  He caused me to remember what I did in those moments. He caused me to compare those moments to this one.
"Is this that growing up thing you've been talking about."
"Yes.... and no."
"Again with the yes, no, possibly. An answer would be helpful."
"Not always."

What I had done in those days, so many years ago, was upon His presence lifting even the slightest bit I had run back to my dorm room, sobbing had thrown myself upon the floor imploring Him to come back. Afraid I had done something wrong as for His presence to lift.  It had been the first time Presence had ever done that to me.  I had known Him for Months and never, not for one moment, I hadn't held His hand, walked by His side, seen His face... And then I had been walking on this path towards the cafeteria, and He was gone.  Shock saturated my body. I turn. Ran.  Swung the door to my dorm wide open, slammed it closed and face met floor as sobs racked my body. What had I done?  The movement hadn't even been fully made.  The tears hadn't touched the carpet, Presence saturated my very being.  No words had been spoken at that time. In my infantile state, all I knew was that He was back.

"I'm no longer an infant."
"You are no longer an infant."
"I was still startled."
"You were."
"My song is always with you. My essence upon you. My breathe yours."
I closed my eyes. Trying within His presence to settle my own soul.
"Growth is hard," I said as I kept my eyes closed.  I realized too much sensory overload. I realized my eyes needed to be shut. I realized, once again, no words really needed to be spoken."
"I miss you, that's all... I just miss you, when you do that."
I knew there was so much He could say. Again, I could feel the movements within His being. I could feel Him thinking. I knew to open my eyes. I knew to look at Him.  As I made contact, as I saw His face... tears again started streaming down my face. "I miss you."
"I ache for you."
"I want this to be over."
He just listened.  "Ah," I thought.  "There's the therapist in you."
Without words having been spoken, He burst out in a laughter that shock the air and made it smile. I closed my eyes to take in its sound. Luxurious. Unmatched. Immense. Beautiful. Strengthening. Firm.
Again I closed my eyes. Drank in the air. Took in as deep a breathe as I could. And smiled.

"You are worried about many things. Your heart grieves. Let it grieve."
"Easier said then done." And I lowered my chin, I lowered my gaze, my right big toe played with the sand. I was fighting it. I was fighting the sobs.  My body racked with pain. My heart bent over in sorrow. Standing underneath His presence. Still I wouldn't let go.
"What?"
"You need to tell me."
"I actually don't." Was my reply.
"True."
"You know all things anyway, what does it matter." My voice was giving me up. My body was giving in. It was His compassion that was winning the moment. His kindness. His tenderness.
"It matters." He spoke ever so softly yet with something akin to a voice that caused an interior movement within me as if He had roared. Gentle mind you. Significant. Firm. Beyond gentle. The ripple affects were coursing through my being, having their way, making adjustments within my soul.
I took a deep breath.
"You love me." I said.
"I do."
"Then, please sit with me."

Those words were out of my mouth. No longer were we standing on the ocean's edge.  I can not tell you where we then went.  It isn't that I wouldn't. I would. I just don't know.  It was grand though. And we sat side by side.
"Tell me."
Looking down at the ground I began to speak. It felt like a thousand years passed. I was still speaking.  About this. About that. Telling Him about every step that I could in the journey. Everything I remembered from the past.  Telling Him every hope I had for the future. Every confusion I had within the present.  I talked and talked and talked and talked and talked and talked and talked and talked and talked and didn't stop talking... He never moved. He never said a word. He listened.
I never moved.  Gaze down at the ground. Body posture slightly bent over. Hands upon face.  (We were sitting in these crazy amazing chairs. On some porch. The air I could try to describe to you but I don't think I have the words.)
I wasn't done. But I took a breathe.  I could feel within Him that He knew there was more. Permission filled the air. And now so did more sobs. As I took back up the conversation.  Now sobbing through the words; on one hand, not even knowing if He could understand my lack of clear articulation and on the other knowing, A) It didn't matter and B) He knew all things.  Sobbing. Talking. Staring down at my feet. Words spilled over them as did tears.  Time both stood still and sped forward.  And still we sat.

Then, in a moment when I had once again paused; He spoke, "Do you still think I suck as a Counselor?"
Birds sang. The air danced. I looked up for the first time. Made eye contact. Smiled. And awoke.....

In that in between place, of neither here nor there... I spoke the last few words. "I love you, my Lord, always and forever. No matter how firm or fragile. I love you."  His reply came through as my eyes opened to a different space; my space, my room, my sofa.. my birds singing outside the window. My dawn breaking through the evening's share of time.  "I know. To you, my love and affection always."

Then as if on cue, I heard the rumblings of my day begin.  Two little voices filled the air, two little feet were heading to the bathroom, as one called after the other.  It would be time for getting them ready for school. It would be time to start the day. It would be time to live.

An evening with a guest I had invited and upon arrival realized that.... I then didn't want said guest to actually, really show up......

I haven't shared moments like these as I once did.  But upon this evening I have learned grace, kindness, gentleness and patience in ways I knew not before this evening....  This conversation bares down upon my being. I know it will bare much in the times to come....  Sit with Him yourself and listen to that which He will say. Be careful when and where you invite Him, for when He shows up...

 "Speak, oh Lover. We are listening!"

"I've never felt so quieted before." I said
"And that's a bad thing?" Came the question back.
"No. Just not used to it so much." I replied.


"I used to feel more confident in what I had to say."
Silence.
There was no response.
Not knowing if I should share more or if the silence was necessary; I, too, paused.
I have begun to slightly trust this more.  So while anxiety did push upon my heart and thoughts raced within my mind; I leaned into intentionally quieting my soul.
"And now." Spoken with a slight smile, a noticeable twinkle in the eye.
"And now.... " I paused, for I knew not really how to finish that answer.
"Now I feel quiet. Now I wish you would speak more. Now I touch the hem of silence and quiet and feel their force. Now I look to trust more than to speak. Now I weep at the pausing and it's power.  Now I tremble at the stillness and the knowledge that comes from it's depths.  Now I look to you. Now I know not what to say."


"I would disagree." Was the response.
To which it was my turn to pause. Allowing silence to fill the space between us, cascading over the both us of, drawing us deeper into each other.


"My heart misses what I feel it once knew." Not referring to education or instruction but to the most interior and intrinsic ideas that our hearts knew before we programmed them not to hear, see or know.
"So go back a few steps."
"It feels like more than just a few steps."


Pauses. Stillness. Quiet.

"You're waiting for me to say more this time," I said breaking the silence.
"I am."

"But I don't know what to say."
To which the silence took on a slightly different feel as distance was added.
"Wait." Everything in me shouted. Terrified that the distance would only increase.

"I'm afraid."
Immediately the atmosphere filled back.
"That which I know causes me sorrow. The places I lack understanding bare down upon my heart."
"They only bare down upon your heart because in truth, you lack not the understanding you think, you just refuse to embrace that which you most truly know. You play dumb. You play safe. You see and while you ask to see, you negate that which you see. You hear and then deafen both ear and heart. You play safe."


I began to say, "but I don't understand, or the excuse of 'I don't mean to'" except I  could only feel so deep within the untruth of that statement.
The night was young. The discussion poised to be long.


Silence again filled the time and space.
Truth be told I was weighing out my options.  Truth be told He is far more patient than I ever imagined. Far more patient that I maybe ever will be; certainly far more patient than I am now. Nurturing stillness encompassed by it's power filled the air. Surrounded by tenderness as if it was the most marvelously soft blanket filled with warmth, containing security laid deeply, heavily upon my soul. I was transfixed.


"What have I told you?"  He broke the silence. Gently soothing my very being.
Before I could respond, the answer was granted into my depths.
"You both ask the question and supply it's answer." I said back with a smile.
"I want you to know the pathways we walk." Was what was spoken back without hesitation.
"Now you are in my head." As I could feel the images that were being touched. The ideas that were being rescued.
"I am in far more than your head."
"So you know."
"Yes."
"But..."
"But, this is us.... I want you to speak."
"I'm afraid..." And I hesitated. I faltered.
I came to understand in that second that those words would only ever cause Him to move closer, the very nature within the essence of the being of Spirit; never forsakes, never leaves alone. I bristled. "What?" I said. "I can tell you I'm afraid, I can tell you I don't understand, but I can't tell you I don't know."  I could felt agitation flowing through me, coursing through my being, causing tears to sting my eyes.

"You may not."
Now we were in full eye to eye focus lock down.
Girding my heart, I could feel the shift.  While the presence didn't budge. Not one bit.  "I'll lose this 'show down.'"
"No, I will guarantee you don't."
"My language and your language in this are saying two very different things."
To which His laughter filled the essence of all that I am. "That, your response, is why... you may not say 'you don't know.' You may not want to say. But you do know. It is to that end I push."

"You want more of me than I am willing to give."
"That is not true.  You are far more willing to give to me more than you, yourself understand. You actually hold back very little. I am not afraid of your fear. I am not the one whose pace is not being met. I am Author. I am who begins and brings to completion.  You need not be afraid. Breathe."


I could feel myself shrinking back as if into a corner, while not at all cornered; I knew not how to respond.  The 'showdown,' of sorts was getting personal.  My mind wandered to Jacob. Would a physical wrestling be better than this.


"No." Before I could speak the answer was out there.
Again my  mind raced in a million directions. Searching for a response that would feel true, trying to grasp for an expression that didn't feel like it would come easily at all.
Then before I could blink an eye or think another thought; warmth was mine.  A cascading warm solid tangible honey like substance was flowing, filling me.. saturating the room.  The essence, the sensation.. it all was accompanied by an image.  Again I bristled. But as if I was a colicky child, all that happened was I was brought closer into an embrace, not pushed away. My back stiffened. His intention remained firm. He began to hum. I relaxed. I breathed.


Thoughts, pictures of days and years gone by flooded. Warmth, vibration, gentleness, kindness; it all swirled into the air with color and temperature and atmosphere changing components leaving me changed; softened.


Still quiet. Words still wouldn't come. Glancing; no, more like still glaring over the top of missing rims to glasses I don't wear, I looked towards the direction in which He sat. A caution upon my heart. I wanted this moment to be what it was even while I wanted to also diminish it, put distance between myself and it, play nonchalant, aloof.

There, was sitting, the One who loves my soul so completely, so well. Did I want to engage in a show down I couldn't win, or really actually didn't want to win? Or did I want Him to make the first move?  It wasn't going to happen this time.  While I know He runs, He leaves, He rescues... something was different. My mind raced to all the places in my life where this very occurrence was true.  I had just earlier railed at the heavens, imploring them to move, daring them to cause something to act that would change where I was, what was happening, how I felt.


It began to dawn on me that this was the response to those prayers.

That this evening and what was transpiring was in direct correlation to those prayers.

 I had invited this guest.

 I had asked for this evening.

Yet upon arrival I did not want it to carry the message it did.  I wanted to be rescued. It was the determination of all that was transpiring that I would conclude that rescuing was not what I needed.

Stand off sadly continued.  I would like to say that I melted again completely at that part. But I didn't.  As I refused, I felt more of His joy which began to irritate me more than fill me with similar emotion. 

"Isn't this stubbornness." I asked.
"No."
"Uncertainty?"
"Definitely not."
"Well?"
"Well."
I heard His heart.
"I'm not an infant."
"You're not an infant."
"You want me to grow up."
"I want you to grow up."
"It isn't that you wouldn't rescue me, run to me, comfort me, stand with me.  It isn't that you ever leave me alone."
"True. So what is it?"
"You want me to stand."
"I want you to stand. I want you to feel what that feels like. I want you to stand. I want you not to succumb. That is not you won't be weak. You will be weak. In that weakness you will feel my strength. You will falter but you will not fall. You will err but you are not to fear."

And my heart and mind raced in a very different fashion.  I thought upon words of wisdom that I know to be written in Christian scriptures. "Having done all... stand."

"Yes. No longer being an infant means you may not look for others to do for you that which you can do for yourself. Take the step. Breathe Stand."
"But..." I wanted to say a million things. But what if I can't? What if I falter? What if I fail? What if I'm not strong enough? What if I'm not smart enough? What if??????  A million "what ifs" filled my head.

Quiet. But the silence filled with attentive glances my way.  Watching me. Looking at me. Looking into me and offering a glance into what was being seen.

I swallowed hard.
"You're not going to tell me."
"No."
"You could."
"Yes."
"But you won't."
"Correct."

I didn't have to ask why.
Sitting there, looking at Him looking at me, receiving His glance and presence... I could feel myself all of a sudden walking in the palm of a very large and vast palm.
"This is where I am."
"This is where you are."
"Always?"
"Always."
"Promise?"
"Promise."

I closed my eyes for a minute. And when I opened them my guest had seen Himself away.  I sat there, now looking at the empty chair. The chair that had only seconds earlier been full with presence, light, sound, eternal beauty. Now back to being just a chair. And as that thought landed in my heart; a bright twinkling of sorts overrode it. Never and always back to being just a chair. I am that which I am; at times so much less... living less than that which I am and at times being that which I am and touching more.

"Remove the 'just.' Let it be. Be yourself as well."  Then the evening fell fully silent.  Then my heart realized I could go to sleep. Then my heart smiled, my body breathed and quiet once again reigned firm.

Looking Forward to the 29th...............

I first saw it listed on Facebook...
It drew me even then...
And now.. well, now I wait for the 29th and the full release...

When I first heard it I thought of a friend of mine and then I thought of lots of friends of mine....  A friend had had a picture of herself living in a bird cage but the door was open but within the cage she still resided.  When I heard this song I thought of that image and burst into tears and intercession and laughter and joy and as weeping and laughing kissed, I thought of the freedom that would come to so many from this song and I rejoiced....

I thought of all the birds flying free ...
All the birds flying out of cages...
I thought of all the dry bones dancing....

And I would eventually realize that the song of dry bones dancing is one that I want to play and replay over and over and over again... To all the daughters and sons of our God who need to take flight and arise from the valley....

Misty Edwards is coming out with a new album on the 29th and this song Little Bird has captured my heart and set it free...

LYRICS

Little girl, little girl with the big round eyes
Little bird, little bird, one day you’ll fly
A breathtaking flight of life you’ll fly
Then little bird, little bird, you will die

Because life, life is a vapor
But the brevity is what makes it a treasure
So feel it all like a love letter
To the One you will live with forever
His eye is on the sparrow
His eye is on you

What then, what then when it’s all over?
Little bones, little bones the dust will cover
Little spirit, little spirit you’ll live on
With the soul of the bird that goes on and on
Then little bones, little bones
You will rise and little girl, little girl
You will fly
Fly


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TqkOd8TOfcM