A place to share and reflect on my journey looking a life through a different lens each day.
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BEAUTY IN THE BROKENNESS:
a blog on perspectives
You have often heard of creating a Bucket List – things you aspire to do, and many of them are out of the ordinary, spectacular things. What’s on your bucket list of things to do?
What if, however, we change the Bucket List of Doing to the Bucket List of Being?
Read MoreMother’s Day is still a month out — but for many of us, it’s already on our minds. What does Mother’s Day look like for you?
Read MoreI often carry my camera when we hike—for one, it gives me reason to stop and catch my breath more often! Having my camera also gives me a tangible way to capture and cherish the precious moments. This summer on a hike up Marmot Pass, near Seattle, I had my large camera lens along and I was looking for tiny moments to capture and magnify.
On the hike down, I spotted an opportunity and got to work stabilizing the large camera lens by bracing my arm on my leg in a squatted position, intently focusing on the bees that were on the flower you see pictured. As I was solely paying attention to the flower, waiting for just the right shot of the bees, I felt a small cool spot on my right arm. It felt as if there was a tiny electric fan, blowing a cool breeze about the size of a dime. Out of curiosity, I glanced to the right and saw that it was a bee hovering just above my arm.
I was not afraid of the bee, knowing it had many more enticing subjects around (like the nectar of the flower I was photographing), however it was truly a stunning moment for me of being aware, of noticing and paying attention and feeling that bee hover. Upon further research, I found out it wasn’t a bee at all, but a hoverfly. A hoverfly is black and yellow like a bee thus affording it camouflage and protection from predators. Hoverflies actually have the most flexible wings out of any flying insect, they twist their wings 45 degrees over 300 times every second. Impressive, right?! I know had I not been truly focused and absolutely still, I would have never experienced the beauty of a moment in the hoverfly world. I desire more of those moments—of capturing the little things in life, of understanding that a bee doesn’t hover, but a hoverfly sure does and of being still and absorbing the beauty of the outdoors in new ways.
In these months we probably aren’t spending as much time outside but I’m sure many of us still need and have a deep desire to slow down and capture the precious moments during this busy time of year. For me transforming the inevitable snowfall from a hassle to a moment of wonder can make all the difference. Whatever your age—whether you are with a child or age 92—I challenge you to stick out your tongue at least once this winter and “catch” a snowflake. You can even take it a step further by keeping a black piece of construction paper in the freezer with a magnifying glass nearby. When it begins to snow “catch” a snowflake on the frozen paper and examine the beauty and magnificence of each individual flake. This simple activity can even become a beautiful time of reflective, contemplative prayer and praise for each of us individually as we slow down and embrace the beauty of a single snowflake.
As you gaze upon this beautiful trail scene at Walnut Woods, what might you be invited to? Where could you find a place to slow down and be still? Where can you find peace?
***
Peace is the pervasive sense of contentment
that comes from being rooted in God while
being fully aware of one’s own nothingness.
It is a state that endures beyond the ups and downs of life,
beyond the emotions of joy and sorrow.
At the deepest level one knows that all is well,
that everything is just right
despite all appearance to the contrary.
—Thomas Keating
***
Peace be with you.
—John 20: 26
***
Peace be within you.
—Psalm 122:8
Last summer in the middle of the night I woke up with the idea of doing a journal around this idea that we all, including myself, say “I’m fine” without really examining the root of our feelings. Maybe we have this response because it is just a mindless reactionary response or maybe we say it intentionally to avoid a difficult conversation. In addition, I often encourage clients to journal about their feelings to push past that knee jerk “I’m fine” reaction. Therein came the idea for a real feelings journal. I came sleepily downstairs and tried to think through the idea. First I thought, oh boy, everyone is going to think I’m crazy because I am in the middle of writing a book, Stop Breathe Believe®. But as wild and crazy as it was I still somewhat hesitantly put a note on my yellow legal pad to call Monica, my designer and collaborator, about the journal idea. Monica’s response was affirmative and fairly optimistic about how long it might to take to flesh out the idea which energized me to continue moving forward.
So we started. We have learned a lot. It took much longer than we thought and there have been many twists and turns along the way and now we are excited to share the final iteration with you. I couldn’t have done it without the help I received along the way. Roger, he’s been so supportive though I don’t really know why—it seems like the journal could’ve have been a distraction but he was 100% behind it! My kids, Justin and Jill & Brent, for their support and their long-distance cheerleading. Catherine, our fearless editor, & Monica, this wouldn’t have happened without you. Nawal, Kathy, and many more friends who offered input, friendship and support, the list is long and my gratitude is immeasurable.
It is often difficult to understand and access our feelings. Sometimes we’re internal processors and sometimes we’re external processors. Our feelings are an integral part of who we are so the more we can understand what we are feeling the more emotionally healthy we can be. I’m Fine, a real feelings journal invites you to move past the “I’m fine” response we reflexively give to the question of how we are and instead recognize and express our authentic emotional experience. Prompts on the right side of the journal offer you an opportunity to explore specific feelings through words, and the journal’s blank left side allows you to communicate your feelings through drawing, collages, doodling, or any other artistic expression. To accompany you on this important journey into inner awareness, I’m Fine, a real feelings journal offers inspiring quotes, a comprehensive list of feeling words, reflections to ponder, and a guide for further exploration through the lens of “The Guest House” by Rumi. Work and play through this journal on your own or find a partner or group for discussion and community. I’m Fine, a real feelings journal is a wonderful way to gain a deeper understanding of your deepest heart and soul and move steadily toward a life of greater authenticity and vulnerability.
We so excited to share this new offering with you! May the journey to a deeper understanding of our true emotional selves continue to take each of us on the adventure of a lifetime.
What a sweet time together at Hope on Saturday! Thanks to Mary for inviting me, to Catherine (the most unbelievable editor) for being beside me, for the amazing team of I'm Fine journal selling friends and for the fantastic "it takes a village to host a Christmas brunch" team at Hope. Peace be within you.
Roger and I were recently in Seattle, WA with plans for a day hike. Roger is an excellent trip planner, so I had not researched the hike at all. All I knew was what to pack – hiking boots, hiking clothes and camera!
The night before the hike as we settled in the hotel room, I decided to research our excursion a bit. Backpacker Magazine features great hikes for each state and Marmot Pass was the one for Washington. However, in the paragraph describing the hike, it reads:
Traverse old-growth forest and mountain meadows to gaze across the Olympics on this 10.8 mile out-and-back. Parallel the surging Big Quilcene River under 150-foot-tall hemlock, cedar, and Douglas fir, ascending through bands of meadow and Alaskan yellow cedar. Watch for bears foraging for huckleberries. Top out at 6,000-foot Marmot Pass to peer across the Upper Dungeness River at sharp-edged, 7,788-foot Mt. Deception.
-September 2013 issue of Backpacker Magazine
As the title of this blog reads: Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My! I am a Texas and Iowa outdoors girl and normally not afraid. However, I do not know about bears. I do know that when you hike in bear country that you’re supposed to wear little bells on your backpack to alert bears of your approach. Hmm…no bells on my packing list. When I said, “Um, honey, have you thought about bears?” Roger didn’t recall reading about the bears and thought I was joking. But not to worry – Roger assured me we could stop in the morning and pick up some “bear bells” prior to our hike.
Of course, the next morning, we discovered that the appropriate store was not open. So, we began to drive the hour and a half to the trailhead. We drove on dirt roads – very windy dirt roads, I might add – and for an hour and a half we didn’t see another car or another human. At this point I was secretly hoping we would see a bear – a big, scary bear that would make Roger call off the hike. Things got worse when I realized we hadn’t left any information with ANYONE about where we were hiking – the very thing we ask our adult children NEVER to do. And of course, by then we were miles away from cell phone coverage. There wasn’t a single soul who’d know when we got eaten by the bears.
As our minds can do, within minutes I had the headlines of the Seattle Tribune reading, “Couple Found Dead – Mauled by Bears – No Way to Notify Kin.” Oh, I’m sure your mind has never developed news stories over anticipated events, but mine was quickly and effortlessly spinning out headlines. “Clueless Campers Wander Directly Into Grizzly Territory.” “Hiking Boots the Only Trace of Missing Iowa Couple.” Our imagined fatal trip was also going to qualify for a “What Not to Do” story in Backpacker Magazine.
Fear had gotten the best of me, and there was no stopping it. My mind continued churning full steam ahead. I remembered that FEAR can be an acronym for False Evidence Appearing Real. Well, my thinking was that if the bears were false evidence, then why would Backpacker Magazine suggest that we beware? The cycle of fear-fueled thinking got so ridiculous that finally I caught myself and began practicing the thought-changing technique I’m writing about in my current book project, Stop Breathe Believe™. Stop: I interrupted the flow of my fearful thoughts and became aware of my “out of control” thinking. Breathe: I took a deep, cleansing breath that enabled me to recalibrate my mind and my racing heart. Believe: I created a true, calming self-talk statement that I could believe. In this case, it was “If it is desolate when we arrive at the trailhead, we will need to have a discussion about the safety and wisdom of this hike.”
As we pulled up to the trailhead, I was greatly relieved to find 20 other cars there. Great! I wasn’t scared anymore. We were not alone!
The hike was absolutely beautiful. We began at 9:30 am and reached the top of the mountain at 2 pm. Maybe it isn’t officially a mountain – but by 2 pm, it was a mountain. The hike was wonderful – instead of lions and tigers and bears, oh my! – it was breath-taking. In more ways than one.
What does Mother’s Day look like for you? For some of us, this is the first Mother’s Day to be a Mother and that is exhilarating, and maybe even a little exhausting after a short night with the baby’s feedings. For some, the days leading up to this weekend are painful—maybe we are unable to have children, so we only hold in our hearts the child we so yearn to hold in our arms. For some of us the weekend is exciting and full of celebration—children coming home or taking Mom out to dinner. For some of us, the weekend is a time of fear that hits hard because of our Mother’s recent diagnosis. For some, we just realized it’s Mother’s Day and are wondering if the store has any cards left. Some of us have made a special card or gift for our moms and can’t wait to present our token of love to her. For some of us, it is a day of great laughter and fun and for some of us, this is the first Mother’s Day since our Mother’s death.
For others, this time of year is about just being together and celebrating family. For some of us the only way we are “together” is through the internet and we yearn for more “real life” times of togetherness. For some of us, Mother’s Day is another work day. For some of us, it is a reminder of the ache in our heart we feel as a Mother because of the death of our precious, beautiful child. For some of us, Mother’s Day as a single Mom doesn’t look much different than any other day. For some, the emphasis on mothering is a reminder that our Mom was not there for us—maybe we are still waiting for our Mother’s approval, or maybe our Mother watched us being abused, never able to stand up for us, and we are deeply hurt by her silence. Maybe we are in a current struggle of communication with our Mom. Maybe we are celebrating the beauty of the value of the relationship and what we have learned from our Mothers—often our first teachers about life and laundry and love and Legos and laughter and lots of other lessons. Maybe we are in tears because our son just presented us with our first dandelion bouquet.
Oh, what a beautiful thing, that first dandelion bouquet. The simple, heart-felt gesture of an innocent child with the idea of an extravagant gift for Mom. The child brings all that he has to give in that moment. An allergy-inducing invasive weed to most, but a gorgeous offering of love and relationship in the eyes of the mother.
One of the reasons Mother’s Day is so wide in the array of experiences is because whether it’s mother/daughter, mother/son, or mother/father, these are all relationships, and relationships can be messy. Because of the reality of the imperfections in our relating, we are often hurt or we hurt others. Even in a relationship that is often idealized there can be very difficult and very trying times.
Deborah Tannen, a professor of linguistics specializing in sociolinguistics in her book, You’re Wearing That?, Understanding Mothers and Daughters in Conversation, says “Words exchanged between [young] daughters and mothers – in the moment or in memory – can carry enormous weight. The same is true for conversations between mothers and grown daughters, even though both are women and in many ways speak the same language – indeed, partly because both are women and in many ways speak the same language: a language in which intimacy and closeness as well as power and distance are constantly negotiated. Improving communication between mothers and daughters, much like breaking down barriers to communication between women and men, requires, above all, understanding: seeing the situation from the other’s point of view.” I recommend the book as a catalyst for discovering the value of the words in the mother/daughter relationship. Even if you do not have a daughter, you have a mother and this book promotes deeper reflection and understanding of a significant relationship.
May our celebration this Mother’s Day be in the small steps that we take towards our mothers and children, our fellow human beings. May it be in the working to improve our communication, the extending and accepting of dandelion bouquets.
Picture taken by Dianne in New Orleans, LA, May 2012, aboard a riverboat on the Mississippi River, post Katrina
In the everyday moments, where can you see beautiful?
In the angelic lines of eyes and mouth when a child is sleeping?
Felt in the embrace of a spouse greeting you after an arduous day at work? In the slow, refreshing pitter-patter of the rain? In the sharing of a friend’s tears as she pours out her heart and soul as she searches for meaning amidst the pain? In the giggle of a child? As tasted in a bite of fresh fruit? As you watch the flow of a river? As you laugh out loud when reading a book? As you listen to someone with a different faith and from a different continent talk of his love of God? As you run? As you struggle with writing the next piece? As you recognize that the struggle is what makes the next piece? In the memories of a love letter from long ago? In the collection of bugs stapled to a board for a science project? In the touch of the warm sand underneath your feet? In the sweat and push of that last extra uphill battle of the hike? In intimacy? In the fever breaking? In the unhurried gaze into a friend’s eyes? In the phone call from a friend? In the expectations of tomorrow? In the clear, steady hand of a competent dentist? In understanding of a heartache? In looking deep to an issue and wanting to make sense of it all? In the “yes” of the adoption news? In the stroke of a paintbrush? As you continue to recognize the benefits of being a beginner? In the movement of our bodies? As we recognize the sensitivity and magnitude of our skin’s design? In the release of a teardrop? The taste of Starbucks coffee? In the opening of our heart? In the breaking open of our heart through hurt? In the gleeful cry of a child’s delight? In the sitting and just being with a friend, no conversation needed? In the twinkle of a star? In the calm of silence? In the completion of a critical conversation? In the trust and mystery of God? In the hurt and hardship of disease? In the revelation that we might be wrong? In learning the meaning and pronunciation of a new word? In the capacity to cherish oneself in the face of one’s own imperfections? When we feel the rough edges of defense smooth away so we can genuinely feel another’s care? At a Bon Jovi concert? In observing the waving of the flag of your country? In seeing others help those who are hurting? In the blooming of a bulb…bursting out of the earth through the snow? In the birds singing gleefully?
In reading a novel that transports us to a journey we have not yet taken? In hearing the cry at the birth of a baby? In a road trip with our kids? In a deep conversation with a partner? In a lighthearted conversation with a new friend/acquaintance? In the anticipatory opening of a letter from a friend? In the acceptance of a difficult reality? In the letting go of an unrealistic expectation? In the deepening of our faith through an experience of our own, not from someone telling us “how” or “what” to believe? In keeping vigil with a loved one who’s dying?
In the welcoming of life in its every brokenness and beauty?
As yesterday was the first day of spring and there is still snow on the ground in Des Moines, we are longing for some beauty and color. The Des Moines Botanical Center was the site of my photo expedition for the week. What beauty there is in creation! What creation there is in beauty!
What beauty there is in you! The plaque in my counseling office that reads “be.YOU.tiful” is a favorite to many of my clients. Why do we find it so difficult to be ourselves?
Is there some end-expectation we have in mind? Is it when we’re thin enough? Smart enough? Good enough? Together enough? Caught up enough? Beautiful enough? Mark Nepo, author of The Book of Awakening, says, “Perhaps the hardest thing I’ve learned, and still struggle with, is that I don’t have to be finished in order to be whole.”
Transformation. Change. Process. It is the process of being ourselves that is the struggle. My email signature line features varying perceptions, and yesterday’s was: “Looking at life through a ‘struggling is a strength’ perspective…”. I know that I am not alone “struggling with struggling”.
So often we compare ourselves with others. “Comparison is the seed of discontentment.” -Anonymous. It is through the lens of our perspective that the seed of discontentment can grow or we can re-wire our thinking to value the beauty of who we are.
As we take off the comparison glasses, we can choose to put on the lens of gratitude for who we are made to be. A new lens and creativity is unleashed, anxiety is calmed, the “musts” and “shoulds” become “maybes” and “coulds.”
Can we value the “be” of be.YOU.tiful? Notice that it reads, “be,” not “do,” as in dutiful. We are often more comfortable with the “doing” than the “being.”
Being ourselves requires courage and vulnerability. And yet when we are able to be ourselves we are most radiant. Seems like a bit of a juxtaposition, doesn’t it? As with the flower, it is in the process of opening up and being vulnerable that we become real. Then, we are be.YOU.tiful.
In the beloved children’s book, The Velveteen Rabbit, by Margery Williams, the Skin Horse and the Rabbit are having a discussion.
“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?” “Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.” “Does it hurt?” “Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.” “Does it happen all at once,” He asked, “or bit by bit?” “It doesn’t happen all at once, “ said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But those things don’t matter at all, because once you are real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
May you be encouraged to struggle against what is mechanical and sharp and struggle towards that which is lovely, what is true, what is be.YOU.tiful within you.
I am simply fascinated by the beauty of the shedding bark of the river birch trees in our yard, especially on a snowy day like today. Often I find a graceful scattering of authentic river birch paper fanned out beneath the trees. I have even written a letter to my Dad, a lover of nature, on one of these paper-thin pieces of bark. A quick bit of Google research reveals that one of the reasons a river birch tree sheds is to allow rapid growth.
Yes, I can agree with that, growth is a letting go, a shedding experience. And yes, often there is pain involved in the growing.
Recently I had a dermatologist-recommended facial peel. I probably include “dermatologist recommended” so that you will not think I am vain! The peel happened to be quite painful at times. I experienced facial swelling, a blotchy red rash, and intense itching. I slept in a recliner for three nights to help reduce the swelling. Hmmm…what a metaphor as I was thinking of writing this blog about peeling layers and the pain that can occur! I chuckle at the timing of things. So, my skin is now better. I do not plan any more peels…at least of the “dermatologist-recommended” variety.
As a mom, I have often wanted our children to have a smooth road…no bumps, no hurdles, no hurts. And yet, I know in my own life that it isn’t on the smooth road that I grow and develop. What a joy to watch them grow now as adults amidst struggle, to lean on each other amidst times of pain and to experience life richly as they grow--not as measured by the chart attached to the doorway that recorded their annual growth, but as they grow by living authentically in the depth of their souls.
As part of a couple, my husband and I love and cherish the smooth times, but we have also learned to embrace the difficult times. We want to know and experience the deeper growth that can occur in struggle—in adjusting to a new city, in learning to communicate more clearly, in praying through the night for the health of a child, in sitting with a parent who is struggling for his last breath or in taking on a new challenge together.
As a woman, I often wrestle with the concept of wanting it all perfect. However, the “letting go” of being perfect is a concept I want to accept. Of course, any of you who know me know that being perfect is not true. The struggle and desire for doing things perfectly and wanting things perfect has been true. I am learning the value of letting go. It seems that I have been learning this concept for a while now, and that the beauty of letting go is now appealing to me more than the mirage of perfection. The freedom and beauty of accepting myself for who I am is enough.
What is it that you desire to let go of? Just as the birch tree says goodbye to its bark, what is it that you would like to bid farewell? What is it that leaves you feeling vulnerable? What if you chose to look at vulnerability through a new lens? What layers are you aware of that you could label—and shed? What pieces of brokenness do you wish to hide? What beauty is waiting to be seen within you as you let go of the unnecessary layers?
May our journey go deep to an inner peace as we shed an outer layer or two.
Alaska became our destination when our daughter’s film, Nanuq, was featured in a film festival in Anchorage. Being lovers of the outdoors, we wanted to be in the majestic beauty of Alaska as much as possible. This picture is taken just off the side of the road as we were traveling one morning to our hiking destination. The picture seemed to capture the massive and beautiful portrayal of a wild, cold and awe-inspiring landscape.
As we ponder what is ahead for each of us in our life adventure, can we sense the vastness of what is ahead? I am sometimes amazed at the monumental privilege of taking in the breadth and depth of life, especially on a day-to-day basis. And so, as I wander in life, I also wonder…
What is it to move to a new city and not know how to connect or where to connect or whom to connect with? What is it to wonder if you could get a “do-over” in a conversation that was of critical importance? What is to feel the tenderness of a newborn baby’s hands as they wrap their tiny fingers around your one finger? What is it to see your child’s high school senior year slip away and wonder what is next for him or her? What is it to get the phone call that your Daddy is about to have emergency surgery, many miles away? What is it to question the choice of the new job change? What is to imagine not being lonely on Valentine’s Day? What is it to watch the quandary of the possum on the hiking trail…should he move or not (and how does that relate to how do I react in fear)? What is it to feel broken?
What is it to discover that one you have loved has been unfaithful? What is it to give a friend moving away one more good-bye hug? What is it to weep tears of joy as you reconnect with a soldier coming home? What is it to laugh with friends? What is to taste the deliciousness of an orange? What is to ponder the budget and the expenses? What is it to look into your autistic son’s eyes and desperately want to understand? What is it to be with a friend and share the silence? What is it to gaze at the embers in the fireplace and wonder about the “sparks” in life?
What is it to be proud of a mission accomplished? What is it to be anxious about the next morning? What is it to be saddened by a friend’s lack of response? What is it to receive a care package from your mom? What is it when we see the glisten in another’s eye of our arrival? What is it about shared conversations with a trusted friend who really listens? What is it about lingering in the moment? What is it to think about God more?
What is it about hurrying? What is it to rock in the chair? What is it to watch the squirrel scampering? What is it to feel an embrace? What is it to miss an embrace? What is it to be aware of one’s patterns in a day? What is it to have difficulty sleeping? What is it to feel the air rushing past as you ride your bicycle? What is it to inhale the mist of the ocean? What is it to see the tears of one who is hurting? What is it to feel shame? What is it to discover the joy of truly understanding a new concept? What is it to hear a favorite song and recall that special moment? What is it to be excited about the phone ringing? What is it to feel beautiful?
What is it to wander and to wonder about the vastness of the adventure? Alaska and life, a treasure of beauty and brokenness.
The summer after we first moved to Des Moines, Iowa, I was having a difficult time adjusting to our new world and was feeling sad and homesick for our lifetime of friends and family back in Texas. One day the four of us traveled back from Red Rock Lake from a fun day on our “new” lake. Because it was just our immediate family in the boat, unlike the usual boat full of cousins or a boat full of friends (we didn’t have any friends in Iowa yet), I had extra time for reflection and was feeling a bit pensive. But as we were driving home, a magical moment occurred for me when I spotted a sign of hope. I quickly rolled down the window and tried to catch the image on the camera of the beautiful silver lining in the cloud. I was sure the picture would not be the best as the car was moving, but I wanted to capture the image, just as a reminder to my hurting heart of the picture of hope.
The phrase "silver lining," meaning something good has its origin in a poem by John Milton. In 1634 he wrote Comus: A Mask Presented at Ludlow Castle . It contains the lines, "Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud / Turn forth her silver lining on the night?" While the poem does not say "every cloud has a silver lining" or have any version of that phrase, it does mention "a sable cloud." In the poem, sable is used as an adjective, meaning "black," "dark," or "gloomy."
I have cherished the silver lining picture over the last 12 years as a reminder of the value of perspective: the perspective in our thinking, the perspective in our heart, the perspective with ourselves and the perspective towards others.
What I have learned more vividly in the last several years is the importance of self-compassion as an element of perspective and how that relates to my ability to listen more closely and love more deeply with others. Kristen Neff, a researcher on compassion at The University of Texas and author of Self-Compassion, writes, “Self-kindness, by definition, means that we stop the constant self-judgment and disparaging internal commentary that most of us have come to see as normal. It requires us to understand our foibles and failures instead of condemning them. It entails clearly seeing the extent to which we harm ourselves through relentless self-criticism, and ending our internal war….it involves actively comforting ourselves, responding just as we would to a dear friend in need. It means we allow ourselves to be emotionally moved by our own pain, stopping to say, “This is really difficult right now. How can I care for and comfort myself in this moment?”
As we challenge ourselves to be a friend to our own heart, to cultivate self-compassion, I am reminded of a line that can correlate the connection between the relationship we have with our own heart in addition to the relationship we have with others:
Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold.
As I reflect on the picture of the swan, causing a ripple in the water with its beak, I begin to wonder: what is the ripple effect? What stirs in my heart that comes out in my words and my actions….who does that “ripple” to? What is the “effect”?
"Ripple effect" is defined by Wikipedia as “a situation where, like the ever expanding ripples across water when an object is dropped into it, an effect from an initial state can be followed outwards incrementally.”
As we look to a new year, my desire is to go deep, to understand the internal workings of a heart, a mind, a soul.
Its too much to know, I quickly tell myself.
And then, I settle in. I take a moment to ponder. How do we get our arms around what stirs in our hearts? The stirrings that propel us, that move us. And if, by the very slight internal movement within the heart, there can grow into something bigger, something more impactful, something more felt, more powerful…wouldn’t it be worth it to sit and listen for that stirring?
As I think of the ripple effect, I visualize a sound wave and think of the impact of listening deeply. As I think of the ripple effect, I visualize the sound wave of a voice and think of the treasure of a friend or family member or client being able to recognize and share his/her voice. What does the ripple effect look like if we give voice to the internal stirrings of the heart?
On a body of water, the ripple effect isn’t as easily visible when there is wind. When we are at the lake cabin, often the best time to find the lake in what we refer to as “glassy still” state, is first thing in the morning. If the desire is to water ski on the still water, the benefit of getting up early is worth it. For me, the time when my heart is “glassy still” is also first thing in the morning. I find this is the time that my mind is not distracted by the “to do” list of the day, by conversations, by thoughts. And for me, a calm mind is what allows me to understand my heart. When is the time your heart and mind are most likely to be still? Glassy still?
What is the reflection you see? What ripples out? Can you see your worthiness? In Henri Nouwen’s book, Life of the Beloved, he writes to a close friend, “All I want to say to you is, ‘You are the Beloved’, and all I hope is that you can hear these words as spoken to you with all the tenderness and force that love can hold. My only desire is to make these words reverberate in every corner of your being - ‘You are the Beloved’.” Reverberate is another good word for ripple. As we embrace our belovedness, the ripple effect of our love is expressed.
The challenge to us is as Brennan Manning states in Abba’s Child, “Living in awareness of our belovedness is the axis around which the Christian life revolves. Being the beloved is our identity, the core of our existence.” The core of our heart, the place where the rippling begins.
Isn’t that how things work sometimes? A gentle stirring in our hearts can be transformed into an incredible rippling if we can be still and listen to the beat of our heart. If we can but catch a glimpse of our belovedness at the center of our heart, then the ripple effect begins.
Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain
Emotionally Healthy Spirituality : Unleash a Revolution in Your Life In Christ by Peter Scazzero
Stalking the Soul by Marie-France Hirigoyen
January 2013 we will be leading workshops guided by Brene Brown's Connections Curriculum. We would love to have you join us!
Email Dianne or Nancy to register - group size is limited.
For more information click on the images below.
Last year the instructors of the spiritual direction program I was involved in gave us an assignment: create an art project that illustrated the growth we’d experienced over the course of the program. Walnut Woods is the place I often go to experience the richness of solitude, so my goal was to try to capture an image of myself in the heart of the woods, with the beautiful trail and scenery as the background. I wanted to capture the beauty of the day, the beauty of this place I go to refresh my heart and soul.
So, I set out into the cold Iowa day with my camera and a mirror, and hiked to one of my favorite spots. I set up the mirror to reflect and image of me taking the picture, and started snapping away.
The photography experience was going well, I was enjoying the beauty of the day and had quite a giggle when two park rangers mistook me in my warm leopard coat for some exotic animal.
I began examining the shots I’d taken and realized I hadn’t been able to capture the beauty of the river, so I adjusted the mirror to a position that could embrace the desired image. As I backed up to just the right spot on the gorgeous and very still day, a huge gust of wind came from out of nowhere and knocked the mirror down into the snow. As I saw the mirror fall, I wondered how would I pick up all of the shattered glass out of the snow.
My day of photography with the mirror was over- I wouldn’t be able to get the shot I’d envisioned. However, as I picked up the mirror- shattered, but still in one piece- the realization came to me of the beauty in brokenness. In that moment, the images in the mirror looked very distorted but the beauty of the woods was still present, reflected in each individual shard of glass.
Isn’t that the way it is, though, in times of brokenness? We can often only see the pain, the hurt, the shattered dreams. But if we’re able to look at the situation from a different angle, and remain open to beauty in a different form than we expected, we can find the beauty that lies hidden beneath.
I invite you to take a moment today to reflect on the power of how beauty and brokenness can exist hand in hand. May your heart be encouraged as you look deep to search for beauty amidst the hurt and pain of brokenness.
“Our life is full of brokenness - broken relationships, broken promises, broken expectations. How can we live with that brokenness without becoming bitter and resentful except by returning again and again to God’s faithful presence in our lives.” -Henri Nouwen
I am so excited to be beginning this blogging adventure with you. To be able to explore and share the dichotomies of life, being open to the thrills and the unknowns. There are always new things to learn, always ways to grow, always new beginnings and always opportunities to go deeper in our understanding of our selves and others.
A boot with a bouquet is representative of the journey ahead. The beauty of the bouquet challenges us to look deeply each day to find beauty within others and within our experiences for this present moment. And the boot reminds us that the journey to wholeness is a trek that requires courage and authenticity one step at a time. May your heart be encouraged as you read this blog; you will find both beauty and brokenness represented here. So, I invite you to join me on this adventure to wholehearted living. I open my heart to you…
Welcome.
Hummingbird artwork by Carliann Conner to find out more about this painting and her artwork visit: http://carliannreviewed.blogspot.com/2012_10_01_archive.html
A beautiful Ted Talk on Gratitude...
“The invitation to solitude and silence is just that. It is an invitation to enter more deeply into the intimacy of relationship with the One who waits just outside the noise and busyness of our lives. It is an invitation to communication and communion with the One who is always present even when our awareness has been dulled by distraction. It is an adventure of spiritual transformation in the deepest places of our being, an adventure that will result in greater freedom and authenticity and surrender to God than we have yet experienced.”
