Thursday, August 30, 2012


Thinking a lot about connection today.  Who do I feel connected to and why?  What makes me feel connected?  Where do I hide from connection?  What happens when I go too long without connection that fills me and feeds my soul?  Is virtual connection less, more, better, worse than connection in real life?  How has technology changed how I look at connection?

Lots of questions.  And I could spend a lot of time trying to answer them personally and more globally, and I might even come up with something insightful to say.  But sometimes the words just get in the way.

What I do know, in a nutshell is this.  I need connection.  I am designed and created to be relational.  Being seen authentically and seeing others for who they truly are, also designed for connection, is essential.  But far too often, I let things that are not as essential get in the way of truly connecting with someone else.  All it takes to connect is a willingness to be seen and a willingness to see without judgement or criticism.  The recognition that in looking at someone else, I am looking at another who is more like me than different and whose individuality brings energy and creativity into the world.

In the midst of this political season, where every word spoken feels like a battle line drawn, where cynicism and debate rule the day, where I am asked repeatedly to make a choice between two sides, I wonder how long we as a nation can tolerate the divisiveness.

In connection, there is healing, and wholeness, and salvation.  In separation, there is only pain and eventual death.  None of us can survive for long when isolated by anger and fear.

This past week, I sat as part of a circle of connection, a member of a tribe, honoring stories and dreams, holding hurts and sharing laughter, surrounded by love amongst a host of unique and individual women with backgrounds and views as varied as they come.  We put our differences aside and held one another with the dignity and respect with which each of us longed to be held.  Questions were not about what we did for a living, or which way we were planning to vote in the election, or whether we ate at Chick-fil-A.  We shared stories and songs.  We sat in silence.  We created ritual to honor strength and sorrow, hope and pain, laughter and love. And I left hoping I could bring some of that magic back into my daily reality.

I believe that if we sat in a circle around a fire, making music and telling stories and holding space for each other a little bit more often, we might find ourselves a bit more inclined to work together to solve our problems.  I'm wondering who might come if I gather the wood for a fire and find the right rhythm with my drum.

Sounds of the Soul

From ancient days, 
tribal drums have beat the call to come.

Birds and beasts lend their voices 
and raise their call to the wild.

Cathedral bells chime 
to order the hours.

Monks rise to chant their prayers 
into the dark mornings before the sun.

Rhyme and vibration, rhythm and sound gather us, 
move us together into a place beyond time.

A place where magic resides, where healing comes on the wings of angels,
where we are part of something beyond ourselves.

Give voice to your spirit, and listen.
The mystery speaks with the sounds of the soul.

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