ContemplativeJourney

Welcome...let's start over, and listen to a hymn... Be Still, My Soul Lyrics by Katharina Von Schlegel Music by Jean Sibelius Be still, my soul: The Lord is on thy side; Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain; Leave to thy God to order and provide; In every change He faithful will remain. Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly friend, Thro' thorny ways leads to a joyful end. Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake To guide the future as He has the past. Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake; All now mysterious shall be bright at last. Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know... His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.

I used to have this recurring vision of my life that involved walking across a suspension bridge...while on the bridge, the cables snap and I'm thrown against the opposing side wall of a deep ravine...hanging there from the bridge, I find that I have no way forward or back. From my vantage point here at the end of the rope, I can say that this vision has come to life for me in recent days...I cannot see the way forward, and I know for certain that there is no way back. If life worked like the sign here, we might know 10 miles ahead when the bridge underneath our feet was going to give way, but life rarely gives us advance notice about such things, so we must be quick on our feet. I saw an article online today about a woman who is recovering from a stab wound...she is paralyzed from the waist down after having been stabbed by a mentally ill man. The stabbing occurred while she was playing with her two small children at a local park. From what I've heard about the lady, she

Who teaches us tonight? Jonah...that's who. You might remember the story...Jonah and the whale. God sends Jonah to the city of Nineveh to preach repentance and God's coming punishment...Jonah is not interested...heads to the dock and buys a one-way ticket for Tarshish. Coincidentally, Tarshish is in the opposite direction from Nineveh. If I might observe something here...Jonah doesn't just say 'no' to God's call, but 'hell no, I won't go!' But in the words of Greg Levoy, in his recounting of the story, God is not amused by Jonah's petulant refusal to obey, and sends a great storm upon the ship that Jonah has boarded for his trip to Tarshish...meanwhile, Jonah is sleeping in the bottom of the boat. Now there's a metaphor for you, sleeping in the bottom of the boat. How many of us are sleeping in the bottom of the boat? Or simply sleeping? I'm sure it is not a coincidence that when I am most overwhelmed by the pressures of life, I sle

Yes, yes...I know...romantic poem alert...but I stumbled across it while blog-surfing (that is the God's honest truth), and it is so beautiful, I had to post it. Author was not named, so I cannot give proper credit. Forgive me this personal indulgence...just this once! Lights - Quiet "I could wait a thousand hours; stay the same in sun and showers, Pick apart a hundred flowers, Just to be quiet, Tell me when you feel ready; I'm the one, there's not too many, Hold my hand to keep me steady, Just to be quiet, With you..."

Eagle...swooping down to grab a fish for breakfast...I've never thought about this before, but Gregg Levoy tells a story of watching such a scene in person..."I once saw an eagle drop like a stone into the blue-green water of a bay in the Sea of Cortez. For the better part of a minute, he thrashed around violently on the surface, rising a little and then, it seemed, being yanked back down, sometimes nearly underwater. Finally, he rose, clapping his wings loudly against the water, and lifted out a fish almost as large as himself.. ." -Callings Moral of the story? Whatever lies beneath the surface will usually put up a fight to stay there... Referencing Carl Jung, Levoy says it's a foregone conclusion that whatever we're unwilling to face in ourselves, we'll be forced to confront in the outer world...that our past does not obediently stay in the past...and that our lives will conspire in a hundred ways to call us toward the very things that we are trying t

It's raining this morning...we need rain. I was thinking about how rain can be needed and wanted...and how rain can spoil all of our plans... How we see life and our experiences in it is largely a function of what makes us happy...in the moment. Years ago, I was a Sunday School teacher for 11th grade girls...the father of one of my students was a very successful businessman, and taught by asking questions. One evening when I was in their home, he asked me, "Susie, why do people do the things they do?" I was 22 years old at the time, and by most accounts, thought I had a handle on all things great and small...but I never could give him the answer that he was looking for...and he would never tell me what the answer was... And so today, I have never forgotten the conversation, or the question...and I still don't know the answer. Do we do the things we do to make us happy? Do we do the things we do because we feel like it's "the right thing" to do? Do

My parents' wedding day...my Grandfather's 45th birthday...until now, I don't think I ever realized how old my Grandfather was when my Mom got married... I have always found their story interesting...this picture was taken in the gravel driveway outside my Grandparents' farm home in Mississippi. My Mom and Dad came by the house to let her parents know that they were on their way to get married...my Grandfather came in briefly from his work on the farm to wish the couple well...and then went back to work. Presumably, my Grandmother went back to her work for the day...around the house, in the garden...whatever it might have been. My uncle, my Mom's only sibling, was 10 years old. After leaving the farm, my parents drove to the home of the Methodist preacher, who married them in his living room, with his wife as the only witness. My Mom was 18 years old, my Father, 19. They are married today, 59 years later...having weathered what I consider to be a pretty chall

Today seems worse than yesterday, or Saturday for that matter...the road ahead seems long and hard. I decided this morning that I needed to remove my emotional training-wheels and begin reading Callings by Greg Levoy. I had started the book several weeks ago, but in recent days just couldn't bring myself to read it...the experience of what I read this morning was something akin to taking a very foul-tasting dose of cough syrup... The passage today dealt with the subject of holding onto your core truth...and how that process can be extremely difficult when the people around you are asking you to do something other than what your heart is telling you to do. Levoy expresses it this way: It's really hard to stand in your own truth when everybody around you is telling you, 'Why don't you just keep things the way they are?' The battle within me today is not about holding onto my own truth, but about letting someone that I love hold onto theirs...I cannot ask a per

Church this morning started out with an Introit (opening hymn by the choir) on grief...the humor was not lost on me...nor the friend who was sitting next to me. She said (and she's probably missed less than a dozen Sunday services in almost 60 years)..."I've never heard an Introit on the topic of grief before." We laughed a little laugh, and a small tear slid down my cheek... Grief is a maudlin business, and not very many people can stay present with someone who is grieving. Most of us have a difficult time staying present to or own grieving, much less to the grief of another. Over many years and quite a few hours of professional counseling, I've learned that I haven't grieved well in my past experiences of loss...and the inevitable result is that the grief stays with you, as a sort of scabbed-over wound. Unless we give ourselves to the grief process, we don't heal completely. In Parker Palmer's words, we must confront our inward winters directl

I got these stones at Ft. Knox. I've been self-protecting all my life. Am I better than, or not good enough? I need some trusting and vulnerable Susie stones. When I sat down to write this morning, I had absolutely no intention to write about my stones...none. In fact, in recent days I realized that I had actually forgotten my "stones" altogether...and wondered what the significance of my forgetfulness might be... "Stones" are something that is given to you as a part of a transformational workshop called The Barnabas Journey ( www.barnabasjourney.org ). They are intended to provide each participant with a mirror to themself, and the unhealthy ways in which that person does life . For me, the unhealthiness has been largely about self-protection, and using external performance to keep relational risk at a safe distance. This morning, as I continued my reading, the passage that I read brought my stones to mind...and I felt compelled to write about it he

Tonight...incredibly beautiful full moon rising...love it! Which caused me to think of other things that I love...music....there was a song on the radio tonight about airplanes in the skies being shooting stars...and I could really use a wish right now...wish right now...wish right now...deep, huh? Well, in the context of the song, I found it deep, and I love it. The other day I was sitting on the beach with my niece and her husband and sister...all in their 30's...we had my Ipod on 'shuffle' mode, and Eminem's song Lose Yourself came on... love that song! Being quite a bit past my 30's, my niece looked at me and said, "You like Eminem??" Indeed, some of his music, I love. And so, I was kind of inspired tonight, by the full moon rising, and by Rihanna and Eminem singing about airplanes being shooting stars...and then I realized that there are an awful lot of things that I love in life...like kids for instance... I spent some time tonight with on

One year ago, I came home to find that my pool table had been moved...not to worry though, it was a planned event, not the scene of a crime...in the space that the pool table had once held, there was an enormous empty space. It will tell you more about me than I probably want to reveal, but I had a very hard time with the empty space, even though I had chosen to sell the table, have it dismantled, and moved away... For most people, the removal of a pool table would hardly represent a blip on the radar of their emotional life, but as I said, there are things about me, and the nature of how I experience life, that are just a little bit weird...like developing emotional attachments to pool tables... Ultimately, I realized that I was not attached to the pool table, but to what the pool table had come to represent...and to be completely truthful, I had allowed it to fill space in a part of me that pool tables were never meant to fill. I was fortunate at the time to have some very wise

As I continue to read Let Your Life Speak , I am amazed over and over again by Parker Palmer's writing. He has such a way of expressing things that are, honestly, hard for most of us to express...and he does so with extraordinary eloquence. He is an enormously gifted communicator, and his gifts have been life-giving for me during this last week. Ironically, even though I am experiencing his work as life-giving, the topic of the chapter I've been reading is death...he is talking about the fears that exist within all of us, and particularly in this section, fears that exist within leaders...some of them I relate to, others not so much...but his discussion of how we fear and even deny the reality of death struck me as profound on a number of levels. Let me start with the end first...in honor of my lifelong habit of preferring to read magazines from the back forward, and to read the ending of many books before I get there, because I am simply too impatient to wait for a story to

Tiny figure...solitary life in the midst of a very large world...look closely, and you'll see the person there...representing me...representing you... We want, most of us anyway, to feel like we're "with", and not alone in the world. And in truth, we have moments when we experience what it is to be "with" another...in relationship, in family...in worship...but truly, at the deepest part of our souls, we are solitary in this life. No one can really come into the secret place that is the heart and soul of a person. Perhaps this is why our yearning for connectedness can be so very strong, and the loss of connection so very painful...it reminds us that we are like the figure on the beach...walking a journey that is ours alone. We look for people to come along side, and walk with us...but they don't stay, can't stay...because they are on a solitary journey too, and their journey may call them away from us... will call them away from us, sometime..

It has just occurred to me that some people have been directed to this blog, thinking that it was all about the subject of contemplative prayer, lexio, and other spiritual practices...much like this poor fellow hanging above an open elevator shaft, you might feel like you've taken a wrong turn into a bottomless pit. I apologize for the fact that this blog has become, in recent days, a place for me to work out some very painful subject matter...and has been very little about contemplative prayer at all. If you feel duped, I am so very sorry. I feel a little duped myself these days, so I'm hanging onto the railing with you as I write this now... If the blogging is too dark for your taste, I would certainly understand your decision to step back and wait for the next elevator... Unfortunately for me, I stepped in before I realized what was happening, so I have to hang on and finish the ride... I hope there'll come a day somewhere down the road when I can let go of the railin

Hidden in shadows there is a doorway. A passage not chosen bids me, Come . C.S. Lewis, in his book A Grief Observed , says this: "The pain now is part of the happiness then. That's the deal." I say, to the passage that bids me now, I'm coming...

Some time when the river is ice ask me mistakes I have made. Ask me whether what I have done is my life. Others have come in their slow way into my thought, and some have tried to help or to hurt; ask me what difference their strongest love or hate has made. I will listen to what you say, You and I can turn and look at the silent river and wait. We know the current is there, hidden; and there are comings and goings from miles away that hold the stillness exactly before us. What the river says, that is what I say. ---William Stafford, "Ask Me" I first read this poem about 2 years ago, and as I read it, I remember breaking into a cold sweat. It's funny how our inner voice works...it sneaks up on us sometimes, without warning...and says things that we may not want to hear. I've never been much of a poetry reader, so I must credit Parker Palmer and his book Let Your Life Speak, or I feel sure I would have never found this poem at all. Palmer talks about how some peopl

I'm sitting on the 4th floor balcony of a condo in Destin, Florida...watching a lightning storm out over the ocean...not exactly like the picture I've chosen tonight, but it's a similar idea...it is a beautiful thing, the ocean. I've always loved it. I've never really understood exactly why this is, but nature seems comforting to me because it makes me feel so small...not in an insignificant way at all, but just small in the scheme of what's going on all around me. Maybe it's because it helps me to see my problems as smaller, I'm not sure. I am in the midst of an internal debate about the virtue of hope as opposed to the wisdom of resignation...is it better to hold onto hope in a situation where we feel hopeless, or to give in to resignation....how do we know when to do which? As I look back over my life, it seems like it's been a fairly even split between the two, and now...when I find myself wondering what is the right choice, I wish I had paid

I just came in from seeing the movie "Karate Kid", and the title for my entry tonight is taken from an exchange in the movie that meant something to me...it made me ask myself the question, what am I looking for? I wonder how often I see what I see, because I'm looking for it, rather than because it's really there. Obviously, for me, I'm referring to a very specific situation that I find myself working through at this time in my life, but I think the principle applies to all of us at some time or another. We look for the things that we want, all of us...and unless we see from a place deeper than our physical eyes, we risk seeing what we wish to see, rather than what is. In the movie, the young student is being taught to be still, and to anticipate, and to truly see what is. The conversation about being still was particularly powerful to me, because it reminded me of contemplative prayer. The teacher says to the student, "there is a big difference betwee

Sometimes I want to post a new blog just because I love finding cool pictures, and this picture is surely one of the coolest I've seen lately. Is it sunrise or sunset? Who can tell? Reminds me of a story that I know I can't relate in much detail, except to say that the gist of it is "good news, bad news"...who can say? I'm sure I'm not making much sense, but here's what I'm trying to say...the absolute worst things can happen to us, or what seem to be the worst things, and it can somehow become good in the end. And so, is it sunset...or sunrise? You decide. I decide. We decide. Is it a beginning, or an ending? Maybe the fullest truth is that it's both. It's "The Lion King" and the circle of life...it's living and dying...and it never really stops. If you're Christian, or perhaps even if you're not, you might find it interesting to know that most Christian traditions explain this as the "paschal mystery"

When I was in my early teens, my family lived in Southern California, and we used to go to Huntington Beach alot. Depending on the weather and the moon I guess, there would sometimes be warnings about riptides, and a dangerous undertow...I remember a time when I got caught in a very bad riptide, and could not get my feet underneath me...I kept being knocked down, sucked under, and pulled deeper out and away from people and safety...even tonight as I write this, I have the clearest memory of the sensation of going under, spinning around, and not knowing up from down in the water. I thought that I would drown that day. I'll never know for sure what happened, or why I popped up eventually, rather than going under permanently...but I remember giving in to the tide...I quit fighting it at some point. I feel very much like I did that day...under water, spinning, with absolutely no idea whether I'm coming up or going under. I just know that tonight I feel farther from home and the

Sometimes I struggle with depression, and today was one of the those days. I don't know why exactly, and I'd like to blame it on the fact that I've had a head cold, or allergy issues, or something like that...but in truth, I think my mood is about something more than sneezing, congestion and a nagging cough. If I look at the circumstances of my life today, I have nothing to feel depressed about, really...except for the situation with my Mom's health, which is difficult. I have wondered many times over the last few months about how people handle chronic illness in a family member or loved one. It is such a difficult path to walk, and as far as I know, it's a path that all of us will have to walk at one time or another. It rained here today, and the skies were dark all day. I went around my house and turned on all the lights, thinking it would help my mood...it didn't help much, but I guess even a little light is better than no light at all. When I feel this

I have a friend who pastors a church in Little Elm, Texas. His name is Brad Sutton, and though I see him rarely, and we're not particularly close, something about his ministry has always resonated with me. We're 'friends' on Facebook, so I noticed Saturday night that he was beginning a new sermon series yesterday, entitled "Summer of Love." As is Brad's way, he had a terrific and fun graphic to illustrate the series...a psychedelic (spelling?) VW bus, circa 1970, reminiscent of Woodstock and others things "Summer of Love"-ish. The wildly colored bus made me laugh, because it is so Brad, but it also piqued my interest in the sermon content, which was his aim. As it so happens, a friend of mine attends Brad's church, and had written this one quote from his sermon on her bulletin: "In Christ we surrender our right to withhold love." I haven't been able to get this quote out of my mind. If you're anything like me, you have

Do you have a problem with motion sickness? I do. The other day I was on a plane coming back from a weekend trip, and the process of landing was truly miserable...this particular airline seems to me, doesn't really use its air conditioning capabilities to their maximum potential...so it was hot...the airport is in an area surrounded by mountains, so the crosswinds were pretty choppy, and the ride was rough...as I sat in the middle seat, I tried to take deep breaths, think pleasant thoughts, and stave off the nausea that was growing within me...my mantra was "Land the plane, land the plane, land the plane..." We weren't truly flying, and we weren't on the ground yet, but were suspended in the choppy uncomfortable transition from flying to landing. Many Christian writers would call this an example of 'liminal space,' a place that is betwixt and between, a kind of no man's land; or even, the threshold between where you are now, and where you're going.

A few months ago, I experienced a new thing in my prayer life: walking a labryinth. Have you heard of it? I guess my exposure to ancient spiritual disciplines is more limited in scope that many people, because growing up in the southern Baptist tradition, we were almost entirely focused on scripture reading and prayer...and when I say prayer, I'm talking about a process that looked alot like reading a grocery list of wishes and needs and concerns...I went through the list, and hoped that God would answer my prayers...which for me, usually meant that God would grant my wishes and requests. I would sprinkle in some 'thank you's' for various blessings received, but I didn't do much listening , because listening required sitting still and being quiet...2 behaviors that don't come easily to me. This year I've been learning some new practices in my spiritual life - 2 of these new practices are contemplative prayer and walking a labryinth. A labryinth looks like a

Starting well...finishing well... Not very long ago, I came across a quote that made an impression on me: "We don't get credit for what we begin, but what we finish..." The quote caught my attention because I often struggle with starting projects that I don't or can't finish. At the time, I was feeling bad about this habit of laziness, or lack of focus...and I felt that I shouldn't receive credit for any work done, if I couldn't demonstrate that I had 'finished what I started.' I resolved to be more focused, more disciplined, and even wrote the quote on a piece of paper to keep in my line of sight each day at work. As I think about this isolated struggle with self-discipline in my work life, I am reminded of something Jesus said while hanging on the cross. The gospel writers record seven famous "Last Words of Christ," one of which was: "It is Finished." If I sit quietly with this idea, it occurs to me that our lives are unfi

Welcome, welcome, welcome! These 3 words will be familiar to you if you've begun the journey into contemplative prayer, a practice that is relatively new to my Christian walk of faith, but a process that is helping me to understand the power of prayer as listening , rather than talking. ContemplativeJourney is a blog for members of a faith community who have joined to support one another in the practice of contemplative prayer...and is meant to be a place where readings can be shared, the community experience of contemplative prayer shared, and where we can learn together about this unique and essential discipline of the spiritual life. Welcome to you and many blessings upon you! Susie