I'm going to be on a little blogging break for a couple of weeks. This comes at a bit of an inopportune time - just as I am beginning to revel in the connections. But I feel confident my virtual friends will still be around when I return. Just wanted to say that I haven't simply disappeared - and I will be back. With lots of posts to catch up on reading and hopefully some inspiration for writing some new ones of my own.
Blessings to all while I'm gone. See you soon!
Friday, May 28, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Connection
That's what is so powerful about women connecting. We get to remember something within us when we witness it, truly witness it, in another woman. Something sacred wakes up again, wakes up from a slumber that was meant to keep this sacred feminine safe until a time when it could come forth again. That time is now. We are birthing Her. Together. Always together.
~ Julie Daley
I've participated a few times in Magpie Girl's 8*Things posts. One of these challenged us to list eight people who supported us, either virtually or in real life. I started to write something more than once and then stopped. Narrowing a list to eight proved difficult. I feared hurt feelings if I left someone off, especially one of my face to face friends, in order to include some of the new "virtual" friends I've found lately. So I ended up posting nothing.
Then I wrote "Enough" and posted it on Saturday. Every time I thought about what I'd written, I cringed and wanted to rip it down and hide it away. And then something rather amazing began to happen. Women began to comment, supporting, encouraging, identifying. I received a couple of comments by email, from friends I interact with online but also know face to face. But every public remark identified a friend I only know virtually. And those comments, and the subsequent emails, made all the difference. That post still leaves me feeling a bit vulnerable and exposed, but the support from an online community of women walking the same path while in distant cities helped me to own my voice in a new way.
So I have been reflecting on the power of community, both face to face and virtual. We all need connection with people in our lives that we can see and touch. Sometimes nothing but a hug will do. But technology has given us a new way to reach out and connect with people we might have never had the privilege of knowing before the social media craze. On this path of re-imagining my life over the last four years or so, I have formed two friendships that have changed my life, primarily through online connection. And lately, in the past month or so, I've met a double handful of amazing powerful women who have given generously from a well of support and encouragement and challenge. I have remembered and woken up something sacred inside myself by witnessing it in these women - just as Julie said so well.
All of these women write. All of them honor the divine feminine in their own ways. None of them hesitate to ask the hard questions. All give generously. I feel the power in the connections and find myself amazed at the overlap. I read a blog and then see a comment from someone I "know" from a different space. The threads form a web, interconnected, so tangled together the start and end are impossible to unwind. And this web has a strength that holds and supports us all.
I'm tempted to make a list of these women - but somehow that seems too concrete and confining. And truly, the list already exists on the left hand side of the page in my blogroll. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the warm support and responsiveness of each of these women. And for the continued support of my face to face friends, some of whom don't or aren't currently writing for the blogosphere. I have NEVER had a tribe, a community, a circle of women like this. The feeling of birthing something together leaves me at a loss for words.
I don't know what all of this means. But I know there is an energy here, around these virtual connections, that feels new to me. Virtual connection allows for an instant connection to the heart and soul of a matter without the usual social niceties getting in the way. We don't first assess how someone looks. We don't ask what someone *does* or how many kids they have or where they live. We connect around deep thoughts, sacred ideas that resonate. We encourage and support one another without competition or comparison. Somehow the virtual space allows for the display of feminine strengths and facilitates connectivity in a way that the face to face world makes more difficult.
And all of that leaves me with the question of where is this all going? what do we do with all of it? Maybe there are no immediate answers to those questions. Maybe the virtual connections simply allow us to step more powerfully into the lives we each live. But maybe, just maybe, there is something more. Something shimmers on the horizon just beyond my view - so I keep moving, wondering what's just over the horizon, and glad to have companions on the journey.
~ Julie Daley
I've participated a few times in Magpie Girl's 8*Things posts. One of these challenged us to list eight people who supported us, either virtually or in real life. I started to write something more than once and then stopped. Narrowing a list to eight proved difficult. I feared hurt feelings if I left someone off, especially one of my face to face friends, in order to include some of the new "virtual" friends I've found lately. So I ended up posting nothing.
Then I wrote "Enough" and posted it on Saturday. Every time I thought about what I'd written, I cringed and wanted to rip it down and hide it away. And then something rather amazing began to happen. Women began to comment, supporting, encouraging, identifying. I received a couple of comments by email, from friends I interact with online but also know face to face. But every public remark identified a friend I only know virtually. And those comments, and the subsequent emails, made all the difference. That post still leaves me feeling a bit vulnerable and exposed, but the support from an online community of women walking the same path while in distant cities helped me to own my voice in a new way.
So I have been reflecting on the power of community, both face to face and virtual. We all need connection with people in our lives that we can see and touch. Sometimes nothing but a hug will do. But technology has given us a new way to reach out and connect with people we might have never had the privilege of knowing before the social media craze. On this path of re-imagining my life over the last four years or so, I have formed two friendships that have changed my life, primarily through online connection. And lately, in the past month or so, I've met a double handful of amazing powerful women who have given generously from a well of support and encouragement and challenge. I have remembered and woken up something sacred inside myself by witnessing it in these women - just as Julie said so well.
All of these women write. All of them honor the divine feminine in their own ways. None of them hesitate to ask the hard questions. All give generously. I feel the power in the connections and find myself amazed at the overlap. I read a blog and then see a comment from someone I "know" from a different space. The threads form a web, interconnected, so tangled together the start and end are impossible to unwind. And this web has a strength that holds and supports us all.
I'm tempted to make a list of these women - but somehow that seems too concrete and confining. And truly, the list already exists on the left hand side of the page in my blogroll. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the warm support and responsiveness of each of these women. And for the continued support of my face to face friends, some of whom don't or aren't currently writing for the blogosphere. I have NEVER had a tribe, a community, a circle of women like this. The feeling of birthing something together leaves me at a loss for words.
I don't know what all of this means. But I know there is an energy here, around these virtual connections, that feels new to me. Virtual connection allows for an instant connection to the heart and soul of a matter without the usual social niceties getting in the way. We don't first assess how someone looks. We don't ask what someone *does* or how many kids they have or where they live. We connect around deep thoughts, sacred ideas that resonate. We encourage and support one another without competition or comparison. Somehow the virtual space allows for the display of feminine strengths and facilitates connectivity in a way that the face to face world makes more difficult.
And all of that leaves me with the question of where is this all going? what do we do with all of it? Maybe there are no immediate answers to those questions. Maybe the virtual connections simply allow us to step more powerfully into the lives we each live. But maybe, just maybe, there is something more. Something shimmers on the horizon just beyond my view - so I keep moving, wondering what's just over the horizon, and glad to have companions on the journey.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Enough
I feel the flow, in and around me, such force.
Something so powerful, so connective, so deep and ancient must be named.
And once named, must have shape, a form - but no shape nor form, nor all of them together encompass enough to define the mystery.
But definition demands form - so human, like me - but more.
Such force must be harnessed, categorized, captured and controlled. Great structures and works built to honor and pacify, hierarchies and rules because rules take away fear, give safety.
And good and evil must be separated, so good can be clung to and evil avoided. But such artificial division only serves to confuse and confound.
And a way must be made, to understand, to capture, to ensure certainty. Maybe the divine wrapped in flesh might be understood, explained.
But the explanations only cause strife and conflict and heartbreak. The need to know, to be right, to win drowns out everything else.
In the fighting, everyone loses. The boxes built to contain only serve to condemn.
So, I say, to hell with the boxes - let me simply step into the flow, let the current carry me where it will, whether I float or drown.
Enough of trying to capture the rapids in a cup, to define the undefinable, to explain the mystery away.
Enough of sin and salvation, heaven and hell.
Enough of rules and power plays.
Enough.
I feel the flow - can you feel it too?
Something so powerful, so connective, so deep and ancient must be named.
And once named, must have shape, a form - but no shape nor form, nor all of them together encompass enough to define the mystery.
But definition demands form - so human, like me - but more.
Such force must be harnessed, categorized, captured and controlled. Great structures and works built to honor and pacify, hierarchies and rules because rules take away fear, give safety.
And good and evil must be separated, so good can be clung to and evil avoided. But such artificial division only serves to confuse and confound.
And a way must be made, to understand, to capture, to ensure certainty. Maybe the divine wrapped in flesh might be understood, explained.
But the explanations only cause strife and conflict and heartbreak. The need to know, to be right, to win drowns out everything else.
In the fighting, everyone loses. The boxes built to contain only serve to condemn.
So, I say, to hell with the boxes - let me simply step into the flow, let the current carry me where it will, whether I float or drown.
Enough of trying to capture the rapids in a cup, to define the undefinable, to explain the mystery away.
Enough of sin and salvation, heaven and hell.
Enough of rules and power plays.
Enough.
I feel the flow - can you feel it too?
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Gathering the Threads
In between times always throw me for a loop. I don't do drifting very well. I work best under a little pressure, with a goal or a deadline or a finish point (usually defined by someone else) clearly marked. And life right now, in this post-graduation limbo, appears a little hazy. More than one project clamors for my attention, but I'm not very interested in tackling a big project right now. I'm doing what has to be done but not making much progress on things I should and could be doing.
Here's what's next:
A trip. An important adventure. One that feels like it has the possibility of blowing my world apart in a myriad of ways. Other than a brief little cruise in the gulf, I've never been on a trip that required me to carry a passport. And although I have found the safest, easiest, least adventurous way to do it - I will be traveling internationally for the first time in my life. It feels big, and the preparations have brought with them more untangling of deep stuff than I expected.
An test. An objective measure that puts a number on all the of experiences I've had over the past three years. A numerical assessment of whether my knowledge and skills meet the requirements. Two hundred questions that mean everything and answer nothing about the real reasons I do what I do. I've made my life around such tests, with right or wrong answers and perfect scores. I know how to take a test. The results of the tests I've taken before have set me apart from the crowd. Others look at my scores and recruit me to their teams. But those test scores have covered up the real me. They are a mask I can wear. They are an ideal I feel like I have to live up to while underneath I often feel like a fraud.
An interview. A chance to practice what I've learned. Maybe a place to stretch and grow and begin to let this person I've found under layers begin to emerge. Maybe. I feel a resistance in myself though - and I don't know what it is just yet. This interview fell into my lap, and for that I'm thankful, but I didn't anticipate everything falling into place as it did. So, somehow, I feel like maybe I haven't paid my dues. And the process of meeting all the regulations and requirements in order to be able to work in my field circles around on itself, without a clear linear path, causing me additional distress. Exactly what order should I do things in? Can I interview before I've posted a score on the above mentioned test? What should I do first? And then, too, what happens if the interview doesn't go my way? Should I have a backup plan?
A death. My grandfather is dying. No one knows the timing. The process may be long, drawn out, painful and exhausting. Or, the end may come quickly and unexpectedly somewhere along the way. But recovery, returning home, relief in this life are not options. He is a lynchpin in a system and process that spans generations of my family. A system I've worked desperately to differentiate myself from, one small and painful step at a time. This incident, this illness, should be a time to rally around, dissolve into the family unit, reprise my role as good daughter - but I do not want to. I haven't made the trip out yet. It's been convenient not to go. I have a myriad of excuses and I've used them. A truly differentiated person would be able to stand and say "I'm not coming" and offer no excuse. I am not there yet and I'm struggling with obligation and duty and compassion and comfort and how all of those things look inside my family system.
There are so many threads, so many pieces to fit into the puzzle. So much to look and and examine and decide about. Where am I headed? What's next? Why do I do what I do? On one hand, I see myself making progress, taking small steps and big ones to move me forward. On the other hand, somewhere in the deep recesses are distant dreams that I am afraid to even articulate. So do I celebrate the progress or confront the fear? Can I do both?
Every thread I gather only seems to increase the tension, making it impossible to hold without stretching out my arms to embrace the totality of it all.
Here's what's next:
A trip. An important adventure. One that feels like it has the possibility of blowing my world apart in a myriad of ways. Other than a brief little cruise in the gulf, I've never been on a trip that required me to carry a passport. And although I have found the safest, easiest, least adventurous way to do it - I will be traveling internationally for the first time in my life. It feels big, and the preparations have brought with them more untangling of deep stuff than I expected.
An test. An objective measure that puts a number on all the of experiences I've had over the past three years. A numerical assessment of whether my knowledge and skills meet the requirements. Two hundred questions that mean everything and answer nothing about the real reasons I do what I do. I've made my life around such tests, with right or wrong answers and perfect scores. I know how to take a test. The results of the tests I've taken before have set me apart from the crowd. Others look at my scores and recruit me to their teams. But those test scores have covered up the real me. They are a mask I can wear. They are an ideal I feel like I have to live up to while underneath I often feel like a fraud.
An interview. A chance to practice what I've learned. Maybe a place to stretch and grow and begin to let this person I've found under layers begin to emerge. Maybe. I feel a resistance in myself though - and I don't know what it is just yet. This interview fell into my lap, and for that I'm thankful, but I didn't anticipate everything falling into place as it did. So, somehow, I feel like maybe I haven't paid my dues. And the process of meeting all the regulations and requirements in order to be able to work in my field circles around on itself, without a clear linear path, causing me additional distress. Exactly what order should I do things in? Can I interview before I've posted a score on the above mentioned test? What should I do first? And then, too, what happens if the interview doesn't go my way? Should I have a backup plan?
A death. My grandfather is dying. No one knows the timing. The process may be long, drawn out, painful and exhausting. Or, the end may come quickly and unexpectedly somewhere along the way. But recovery, returning home, relief in this life are not options. He is a lynchpin in a system and process that spans generations of my family. A system I've worked desperately to differentiate myself from, one small and painful step at a time. This incident, this illness, should be a time to rally around, dissolve into the family unit, reprise my role as good daughter - but I do not want to. I haven't made the trip out yet. It's been convenient not to go. I have a myriad of excuses and I've used them. A truly differentiated person would be able to stand and say "I'm not coming" and offer no excuse. I am not there yet and I'm struggling with obligation and duty and compassion and comfort and how all of those things look inside my family system.
There are so many threads, so many pieces to fit into the puzzle. So much to look and and examine and decide about. Where am I headed? What's next? Why do I do what I do? On one hand, I see myself making progress, taking small steps and big ones to move me forward. On the other hand, somewhere in the deep recesses are distant dreams that I am afraid to even articulate. So do I celebrate the progress or confront the fear? Can I do both?
Every thread I gather only seems to increase the tension, making it impossible to hold without stretching out my arms to embrace the totality of it all.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Graduation Day
Today is it. Graduation Day. Again. For the third time in my life.
At the first one, I had no idea where I was headed. On the verge of adulthood, my life spread before me, without a clue. I didn't know enough to be scared - and I stepped off the cliff into the wider world. A world that began to work on me, tore down what I thought were my very foundations and gave me a brick or two with which to rebuild.
At the second one - four years later - I still had little concept of where I was headed. I had trained for a career. I had a few skills. But barely old enough to drink, having voted in one presidential election, I really didn't have any idea about how to conduct my life. Headed to Dallas based mostly on my gut, I hoped I would settle in somehow. Finally I did, little by little.
And now - this one. Seventeen years after the last. I could fill volumes with what I've learned in the past seventeen years. But much of it has come in the last three. Because I took a detour. I found MY road less traveled. I've journeyed into the depths. And I'm still there. No end will be found in crossing the stage today, in moving the tassel from right to left. Only a mile marker on the path. The steps cost more on this path, take more strength, sometimes seem less stable. But the view I catch glimpses of makes my soul sing.
I wonder how I will feel twenty years from now - about this time, this place? Will the me of the future see the me of now as the me of now sees the me just graduating from high school? Will there be more large detours along the way, with major turning points? Does my certainty about the path I'm on echo the exuberant hubris of my senior self ready to tackle the world?
I don't know those answers. All I know is that this moment is right. I will set down a stone in the path today to mark this passage. I will celebrate the thousands of footsteps that have brought me here. I will thank those who have held my hand or a light for me along the way. And tomorrow, I'll pack up and move on down the road.
At the first one, I had no idea where I was headed. On the verge of adulthood, my life spread before me, without a clue. I didn't know enough to be scared - and I stepped off the cliff into the wider world. A world that began to work on me, tore down what I thought were my very foundations and gave me a brick or two with which to rebuild.
At the second one - four years later - I still had little concept of where I was headed. I had trained for a career. I had a few skills. But barely old enough to drink, having voted in one presidential election, I really didn't have any idea about how to conduct my life. Headed to Dallas based mostly on my gut, I hoped I would settle in somehow. Finally I did, little by little.
And now - this one. Seventeen years after the last. I could fill volumes with what I've learned in the past seventeen years. But much of it has come in the last three. Because I took a detour. I found MY road less traveled. I've journeyed into the depths. And I'm still there. No end will be found in crossing the stage today, in moving the tassel from right to left. Only a mile marker on the path. The steps cost more on this path, take more strength, sometimes seem less stable. But the view I catch glimpses of makes my soul sing.
I wonder how I will feel twenty years from now - about this time, this place? Will the me of the future see the me of now as the me of now sees the me just graduating from high school? Will there be more large detours along the way, with major turning points? Does my certainty about the path I'm on echo the exuberant hubris of my senior self ready to tackle the world?
I don't know those answers. All I know is that this moment is right. I will set down a stone in the path today to mark this passage. I will celebrate the thousands of footsteps that have brought me here. I will thank those who have held my hand or a light for me along the way. And tomorrow, I'll pack up and move on down the road.
Friday, May 14, 2010
In My Circle
wise grandmother & tattooed biker chick & naked woodland nymph & author & prostitute & scholar & great mother & teacher & priestess & beggar &
social debutante & princess & innocent child & prophet & white witch &
green witch & black witch & poet & bitch & dreamweaver & shaman &
glowing bride & artist & mystic & friend & student & queen & coward & martyr & seductress & midwife & church lady & heretic & seer & slave girl & Hera &
a storyteller & weaver & dancers -- a ballerina and a wild native with a drum & wife & others who still stand in the shadows, waiting to be seen
social debutante & princess & innocent child & prophet & white witch &
green witch & black witch & poet & bitch & dreamweaver & shaman &
glowing bride & artist & mystic & friend & student & queen & coward & martyr & seductress & midwife & church lady & heretic & seer & slave girl & Hera &
a storyteller & weaver & dancers -- a ballerina and a wild native with a drum & wife & others who still stand in the shadows, waiting to be seen
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Eight Things: Small Gratitudes
I like Magpie Girl's 8*Things lists. It's been a pretty glum couple of weeks around here with lots of existential angst (surprise, surprise, right?). So I thought maybe this was my invitation to focus on the positive for a few minutes. If you live for the existential angst - check out my other post for the day and come back soon - I'm sure there will be more.
Small things I am grateful for:
1. Hot baths
2. Friends that listen to my ranting and raving.
3. Longer light in the evenings.
4. A space to write.
5. Benadryl
6. A husband who never minds going out for a bite when I don't want to cook.
7. Homemade Mother's Day cards and gifts.
8. Possibility and another chance every day.
Every Little Step
The journey of a lifetime, of my lifetime, often can only be measured in millimeters. Every step away from the things that constrain me, hold me back, ask me to play small and dumb, bury me requires tremendous effort - more effort than I think I have on some, maybe most, days.
The systems of family, religion, culture, society that like the status quo offer fierce resistance to forward progress. Within the web, I can hold certain positions with ease, weightlessly, effortlessly. I can move around inside this confined space fluidly, gracefully. It's easy. It's dark. It's suffocating.
But move toward light, approach the boundaries and the atmosphere becomes more viscous, thicker, harder to navigate. Movement requires more persistence, more strength. Progress becomes slower and slower, until I'm not sure I'm moving at all - and the pull of the web draws me back, closer to the center.
Every word, every step, every though that takes me out of bounds has to be hard won. Nothing seems easy. Doubt, guilt, fear - no terror - make it nearly impossible to take the next step.
From the outside looking in - and sometimes from the inside looking out - these tiny steps seem ridiculous. Amounting to nothing. Simply no big deal. How can such tiny movements induce such inner turmoil?
A Hero's Journey? I don't know. A journey to what destination? I'm not sure. All I know is that I have to keep moving, bit by tiny bit, toward light, air, freedom. If I don't, I will drown.
The systems of family, religion, culture, society that like the status quo offer fierce resistance to forward progress. Within the web, I can hold certain positions with ease, weightlessly, effortlessly. I can move around inside this confined space fluidly, gracefully. It's easy. It's dark. It's suffocating.
But move toward light, approach the boundaries and the atmosphere becomes more viscous, thicker, harder to navigate. Movement requires more persistence, more strength. Progress becomes slower and slower, until I'm not sure I'm moving at all - and the pull of the web draws me back, closer to the center.
Every word, every step, every though that takes me out of bounds has to be hard won. Nothing seems easy. Doubt, guilt, fear - no terror - make it nearly impossible to take the next step.
From the outside looking in - and sometimes from the inside looking out - these tiny steps seem ridiculous. Amounting to nothing. Simply no big deal. How can such tiny movements induce such inner turmoil?
A Hero's Journey? I don't know. A journey to what destination? I'm not sure. All I know is that I have to keep moving, bit by tiny bit, toward light, air, freedom. If I don't, I will drown.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Motherhood - The Complete and Virtual Annihilation of Self
I have never enjoyed Mother's Day sermons at church. Too often, the rhetoric and recognition only serve to further damage the tender hearts of moms with no babies to hold in their arms and moms with children who struggle and test them in ways most of us cannot imagine, those who have lost mothers recently, moms who chose not to be moms and who must replay that decision when deciding whether to stand, women and men who are separated from their children, or who desperately want a child and do not have one. Sometimes, those aching hearts receive a nod, too often they simply break in silence. And then, the words offered up fail to do justice to the moms who do have both feet deep in the mucky work of parenting every day.
But today, the sermon I heard made all others pale in comparison. The words not only damaged every tender and vulnerable heart in the audience, they ripped at the self-esteem of every woman present - mother or not. I'm not sure what the intent of the message was supposed to be. But I know what the take-away was. The phrase "complete and virtual annihilation of yourself" echoed around the room no less than a dozen times. Held up as inevitable, and lauded as sacrificial, in order that women could somehow understand the depth of God's love. Frustration in motherhood equaled sin. The all too prevalent depression women experience upon giving birth brought a woman to the place where grace could be experienced. Giving up hopes and dreams to protect and propel progeny garnered applause.
Every mother I encountered afterward expressed deep incense and anger. Every young woman not yet a mother expressed fear. Is this REALLY the message we want to communicate to mothers, future mothers, former mothers, husbands and fathers of mothers? That the experience of motherhood draws us somehow closer to God through bifurcation, pain and ANNIHILATION of self? WTF?
I struggle with my flawed community of faith. There are positives there for my family. But I am tired of needing to debrief my daughters after the sermon. I found some affirmation today in the fact that I was not the ONLY one. Several other mothers left fuming and expressed their frustration. Often I feel alone in my protest, but today we found solidarity in our status.
Every week, I move closer to leaving, but it is not as simple as just walking away, for reasons too complicated to write. One of these days I will. But in the meantime, I will reach out and debrief, not only my daughters but anyone else who will listen. I will provide counterpoint to the 4 alliterative points. I will do my best to speak up, speak out, speak the TRUTH to anyone who will listen - even as I count the cost. But no cost is as high as "the complete and virtual annihilation of SELF" - that is a price I refuse to pay.
But today, the sermon I heard made all others pale in comparison. The words not only damaged every tender and vulnerable heart in the audience, they ripped at the self-esteem of every woman present - mother or not. I'm not sure what the intent of the message was supposed to be. But I know what the take-away was. The phrase "complete and virtual annihilation of yourself" echoed around the room no less than a dozen times. Held up as inevitable, and lauded as sacrificial, in order that women could somehow understand the depth of God's love. Frustration in motherhood equaled sin. The all too prevalent depression women experience upon giving birth brought a woman to the place where grace could be experienced. Giving up hopes and dreams to protect and propel progeny garnered applause.
Every mother I encountered afterward expressed deep incense and anger. Every young woman not yet a mother expressed fear. Is this REALLY the message we want to communicate to mothers, future mothers, former mothers, husbands and fathers of mothers? That the experience of motherhood draws us somehow closer to God through bifurcation, pain and ANNIHILATION of self? WTF?
I struggle with my flawed community of faith. There are positives there for my family. But I am tired of needing to debrief my daughters after the sermon. I found some affirmation today in the fact that I was not the ONLY one. Several other mothers left fuming and expressed their frustration. Often I feel alone in my protest, but today we found solidarity in our status.
Every week, I move closer to leaving, but it is not as simple as just walking away, for reasons too complicated to write. One of these days I will. But in the meantime, I will reach out and debrief, not only my daughters but anyone else who will listen. I will provide counterpoint to the 4 alliterative points. I will do my best to speak up, speak out, speak the TRUTH to anyone who will listen - even as I count the cost. But no cost is as high as "the complete and virtual annihilation of SELF" - that is a price I refuse to pay.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Life Changers
My friend Elissa just posted a list of books that changed her worldview, based on a challenge from her editor. It sounded like an interesting list, so I thought I would do mine here.
These are not particularly in order except maybe close to the order I read them in and some of them are not #1 best sellers, but they have all made a serious impact on how I look at the world.
1. The Dance of the Dissident Daughter - Sue Monk Kidd
This book opened my eyes to a world beyond what I knew - a world that recognized an aspect of the Divine that was LIKE ME. Kidd's journey from a world very similar to mine into a world I didn't even know existed stirred my mind and opened me to the experiences that were yet to come.
2. The Red Tent - Anita Diamant
Diamant gave me a new read on biblical history and made the think about the back stories and the stories we didn't get told as kids. It also made me yearn for a tribe that honored womanhood in a new and different way.
3. The Spiritual Art of Creative Silence and Christheart - Jeanie Miley
I cheated here and put two. When I discovered Jeanie, I had my eyes opened to a whole new way to relate to God, and a whole new way to look at the world through the eyes of Jesus. It changed my world and set me on the path I'm on today.
4. The Road Less Traveled - M. Scott Peck
What can I say? It's a classic.
5. Stages of Faith - James Fowler
This book helped me see I wasn't going crazy. Following a developmental model that I understood, Fowler showed me that what I was experiencing was a growth process, and one that others had gone through. It gave me a framework to hang onto when the seas were rough.
6. I Thought it was Just Me: (but it isn't) - Brené Brown
For anyone who lives with shame (which is all of us right?) this book is a must read. Brown's thorough research and exercises to identify and counteract shame moved me through a tough period and helped me see that I really was going to be okay.
7. Jesus for the Rest of Us - John Selby
Blew me out of the water! I don't even have words to really put around it. This book changed my already shifting perception of Jesus and what it means to be divine. I'm sticking a warning on this one for any of my more traditional friends - it will blow your mind.
8. The Drama of The Gifted Child - Alice Miller
I threw this book at my analyst after I read it. I also poured out life-long toxic feelings into a letter I never mailed that elicited a phone call to make sure I wasn't standing on a ledge somewhere ready to jump when I shared it with someone safe. But after that, I wrote a fairy tale that was in some ways the antidote to all that poison - and opened up a creativity inside of me that I had never tapped into before. It's a short book - but a dangerous and possibly painful one.
9. The Invisible Church: Finding Spirituality Where you Are - J. Pittman McGehee
What is church? What ideals and responsibilities do we lay at her feet? How do we take responsibility and authority for our own lives? McGehee sets church in it's place in myth - and showed me how what I was really looking for wasn't going to be found inside the institution.
10. Family Evaluation - Michael Kerr & Murray Bowen
This is a textbook. It isn't fun reading. But Bowen's concepts of family systems changed the way I look at my own life and the lives of everyone around me. None of us are islands to ourselves. Our families leave imprints and we make decisions often unknowingly because of them. Becoming conscious of the patterns changed my story - and is helping to change my life.
There are others of course - Ernest Hemingway and JRR Tolkien in high school. Clan of the Cave Bear series by Jean M. Auel. Madeline L'Engle. Maya Angelou. Carl Jung. Thomas Moore. But these ten jumped out particularly. And like Elissa, my list consists mostly of books that have revised my faith, my view of family, and my self-concept. Only one is fiction. But all of them have shifted something within me in a significant way. What are yours? How have the moved you?
These are not particularly in order except maybe close to the order I read them in and some of them are not #1 best sellers, but they have all made a serious impact on how I look at the world.
1. The Dance of the Dissident Daughter - Sue Monk Kidd
This book opened my eyes to a world beyond what I knew - a world that recognized an aspect of the Divine that was LIKE ME. Kidd's journey from a world very similar to mine into a world I didn't even know existed stirred my mind and opened me to the experiences that were yet to come.
2. The Red Tent - Anita Diamant
Diamant gave me a new read on biblical history and made the think about the back stories and the stories we didn't get told as kids. It also made me yearn for a tribe that honored womanhood in a new and different way.
3. The Spiritual Art of Creative Silence and Christheart - Jeanie Miley
I cheated here and put two. When I discovered Jeanie, I had my eyes opened to a whole new way to relate to God, and a whole new way to look at the world through the eyes of Jesus. It changed my world and set me on the path I'm on today.
4. The Road Less Traveled - M. Scott Peck
What can I say? It's a classic.
5. Stages of Faith - James Fowler
This book helped me see I wasn't going crazy. Following a developmental model that I understood, Fowler showed me that what I was experiencing was a growth process, and one that others had gone through. It gave me a framework to hang onto when the seas were rough.
6. I Thought it was Just Me: (but it isn't) - Brené Brown
For anyone who lives with shame (which is all of us right?) this book is a must read. Brown's thorough research and exercises to identify and counteract shame moved me through a tough period and helped me see that I really was going to be okay.
7. Jesus for the Rest of Us - John Selby
Blew me out of the water! I don't even have words to really put around it. This book changed my already shifting perception of Jesus and what it means to be divine. I'm sticking a warning on this one for any of my more traditional friends - it will blow your mind.
8. The Drama of The Gifted Child - Alice Miller
I threw this book at my analyst after I read it. I also poured out life-long toxic feelings into a letter I never mailed that elicited a phone call to make sure I wasn't standing on a ledge somewhere ready to jump when I shared it with someone safe. But after that, I wrote a fairy tale that was in some ways the antidote to all that poison - and opened up a creativity inside of me that I had never tapped into before. It's a short book - but a dangerous and possibly painful one.
9. The Invisible Church: Finding Spirituality Where you Are - J. Pittman McGehee
What is church? What ideals and responsibilities do we lay at her feet? How do we take responsibility and authority for our own lives? McGehee sets church in it's place in myth - and showed me how what I was really looking for wasn't going to be found inside the institution.
10. Family Evaluation - Michael Kerr & Murray Bowen
This is a textbook. It isn't fun reading. But Bowen's concepts of family systems changed the way I look at my own life and the lives of everyone around me. None of us are islands to ourselves. Our families leave imprints and we make decisions often unknowingly because of them. Becoming conscious of the patterns changed my story - and is helping to change my life.
There are others of course - Ernest Hemingway and JRR Tolkien in high school. Clan of the Cave Bear series by Jean M. Auel. Madeline L'Engle. Maya Angelou. Carl Jung. Thomas Moore. But these ten jumped out particularly. And like Elissa, my list consists mostly of books that have revised my faith, my view of family, and my self-concept. Only one is fiction. But all of them have shifted something within me in a significant way. What are yours? How have the moved you?
Monday, May 3, 2010
*8Things: This I Know
Over at Magpie Girl, just before she launched her new and awesome looking site, a post caught my attention. A list. Eight things I know to be true. Things that help me "Stand in my own Power". Maybe things to help articulate a dream? These eight things won't get me there. But they ring true for me now, when I stop long enough to listen to my own voice.
1. Connection with others feeds my soul.
2. Others want and need to hear what I have to say, even if my gremlins tell me I've got nothing.
3. My passionate desire for my daughters involves community, courage, and confidence -- and I'm helping create those things for and in them.
4. Using my voice, speaking my truth, doesn't always mean peace and harmony.
5. Fear hasn't killed me yet, but giving in might kill me slowly.
6. Systems change SLOWLY.
7. I am making a difference.
8. There is much much more to come.....
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