Death is not always the enemy

He could not love that enemy.

My religion gave me the imagery of death as the enemy. It taught me scriptures that said death was the enemy.

The last enemy that will be destroyed is death.  1 Corinthians 15:26

But these last few years, as I’ve borne witness to my dad dying little by little, piece by piece, I have begun to feel otherwise.

He fought death with every ounce of his will.  And his will was very strong. 

He could not embrace the enemy of death. 

He could not love that enemy. 

So, he lived much, much longer than anyone ever thought he would, could …… maybe should.

He lived miserably.  Without the ability to do for himself. Without his legs under him.  Without his mind serving him.  

He just could not let go.  

Maybe, just maybe, death is not always the enemy.

Maybe

Sometimes

Life is. 

Art by Carol McNeeley

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Storyteller

I am my dad’s story and he is mine.

My dad died last week.

We were expecting it. He had been on hospice for eight months. I had prayed to god, or the universe, or whatever power would hear me to release him from his suffering.

It still feels like a punch in the gut.

My dad was a larger than life kind of figure. There is much to say about him and about my relationship with him. Today, I want to talk about how he loved to tell stories.

He liked to create a good story - even with his very self. The picture here is him in a cowboy hat. I grew up in Canada and he liked to wear a cowboy hat around, and wave at strangers and say, “howdy!”. As a kid, this was supremely embarrassing. But, he was creating a persona. A story. Big stories or small.  He loved to tell them.  The bigger the better. He loved to embellish and didn’t let truth get in the way of a good story. 

A lot of the stories he told were not strictly true. He understood that a story isn’t important because of its facts, it’s important because of what it makes you feel, if it makes you laugh, if it makes you brave, if it is memorable. 

And a story has the power to create its own reality.   There is nothing in the world more powerful than a good story.

He came from a poor and abusive family background. In his own life, he told himself the story about how he could do anything he put his mind to. Consequently, he rose above his upbringing and many, many times he just absolutely could do anything because that’s the story he told himself.  I’m sure he won many a football game based on that story. 

My brother tells a story about a time when my dad was coaching for the Detroit Lions. Dad was about 44 or 45 at the time. A little overweight. Not in the greatest shape. There was a young coach there and dad bet the young coach $50 that he could do a back flip from a standing still position. The young coach took one look at my dad’s physique and thought, “no way” and made the bet. Then my dad, from a standing still position launched into the air and did a back flip, landing on his feet.

Now, my dad was a natural athlete , strong and agile, but he had probably not done a standing back flip for 20 years. I am pretty sure he simply did it because he told himself he could. That’s just how he operated.

As his daughter, he told me that I could do anything I put my mind to.  Which is also not strictly true.  There are lots of things I put my mind to over the years that I found I couldn’t actually do.  But the story gave me power to get through many a difficult situation in life and to do many things that I might not have done had I not been told that story. 

He told me I could be anything I wanted to be.  Which is also not strictly true.  But the story gave me confidence to become someone I might not otherwise have become without that story.   

The day dad died, there was an enormous electrical storm.  Then, the power went out moments before he took his last breath.   Right after he was gone, the sun burst out of the clouds and later that day, we had a rainbow.  I like to think that he was making a grand exit.  It’s a good story.  

And sometimes, the story is better than the truth.  It’s bigger and more important than the literal version of what is true.  There are the things that happen in our lives and then there is the story we tell ourselves about those things.  And between the two, it is the stories that make meaning, the stories that give us hope, the stories that make us strong, the stories that make us laugh and…

It’s the stories that make us live on eternally in the minds and hearts of those who loved us.     Because we are one another’s story.  I am my dad’s story and he is mine.  

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God Our Mother

“This is my body, take and eat.”

God Our Mother
A Poem by Allison Woodard

To be a Mother is to suffer;
To travail in the dark,
stretched and torn,
exposed in half-naked humiliation,
subjected to indignities
for the sake of new life.

To be a Mother is to say,
“This is my body, broken for you,”
And, in the next instant, in response to the created’s primal hunger,
“This is my body, take and eat.”

To be a Mother is to self-empty,
To neither slumber nor sleep,
so attuned You are to cries in the night—
Offering the comfort of Yourself,
and assurances of “I’m here.”

To be a Mother is to weep
over the fighting and exclusions and wounds
your children inflict on one another;
To long for reconciliation and brotherly love
and—when all is said and done—
To gather all parties, the offender and the offended,
into the folds of your embrace
and to whisper in their ears
that they are Beloved.

To be a mother is to be vulnerable—
To be misunderstood,
Railed against,
Blamed
For the heartaches of the bewildered children
who don’t know where else to cast
the angst they feel
over their own existence
in this perplexing universe

To be a mother is to hoist onto your hips those on whom your image is imprinted,
bearing the burden of their weight,
rejoicing in their returned affection,
delighting in their wonder,
bleeding in the presence of their pain.

To be a mother is to be accused of sentimentality one moment,
And injustice the next.
To be the Receiver of endless demands,
Absorber of perpetual complaints,
Reckoner of bottomless needs.

To be a mother is to be an artist;
A keeper of memories past,
Weaver of stories untold,
Visionary of lives looming ahead.

To be a mother is to be the first voice listened to,
And the first disregarded;
To be a Mender of broken creations,
And Comforter of the distraught children
whose hands wrought them.

To be a mother is to be a Touchstone
and the Source,
Bestower of names,
Influencer of identities;
Life giver,
Life shaper,
Empath,
Healer,
and
Original Love.

The betrayal

“Friend, do what you came for”

Life betrays itself every day, all the time in order to continue.  For life to evolve in a forward motion, it must betray itself.

Your DNA has a built-in capacity and necessity for error.  Error that most of the time is meaningless, but every so often is a betrayal of life.  Error that can cause the failure of life to spring forth.  Error that can cause death.

And yet, without this inherent betrayal, life becomes static and cannot grow, change or evolve. 

Life betrays itself so that it can exist. 

What is betraying you today? Your friend? Your employer? Your family member? Your body? Your mind? 

“Behold, the hand of him who betrays me is with me at the table.”

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Life is in the question

Life is found in the question

Lately I’ve been in quite a few discussions where young parents ask:

“what should I teach my kids?”

“what answer do I give my kids about god?”

But, life is in the question, not in the answer. Whether we are looking for the answers for ourselves, or for our kids, life is not found there. Life is found in the question. So, rather than asking what answer to give your kids, ask:

“what questions should I give my kids?”

“Seek and you will find, knock and door will be opened”

Womb

Waiting and resting is hard.

In the Hebrew Bible one of the words that is used for Mercy is “Rachamim,” which comes from the root word “rechem,” or womb.

I love this word connection.  The womb is a place of darkness, a place of formation, a place in which we really know nothing but are simply being held and suspended as we wait for birth. 

So many times in life, we have no idea what to do, we are in the dark, suspended, without form and void. These are times when we feel lost, helpless, and out of control.  It is often at these times that we feel compelled to cry out to god, or to something, asking for guidance, illumination or rebirth.   It’s as though god, or the universe, or whatever you call it, has opened up a space for us – a dark space to be sure – but a space all the same.  So often, it’s in these spaces that we are created.   My darkest times are the times in which the most creative things occurred for me.  They are the times in which I was reborn. 

As we wait in these dark spaces for illumination or rebirth, we are in the space, the “womb” of mercy. All we can do simply float along as we are being held and suspended -- as we wait for the birth of what’s next.  Here we are helpless, and are able to simply receive mercy because we have nothing else to bring to the situation.  We are without resources.  We are poor in spirit.  We have thrown our hands up in despair. There is nothing we can do but wait.  Waiting and resting is hard.

Blog image is: "Black Womb" by Piotr Ruszkowski. "

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The best self care list ever

Did you eat a vegetable?

I have found that over the years, I’ve learned more from my kids than probably any other thing in life. They are smart, creative, deep-thinkers, and funny!

My oldest daughter has always been wise. Her name even means “Small wise one”. (She’s small too!)

Recently, she was going through a super stressful time at work. Her anxiety was kicking her butt. She wrote this self-care list and shared it with me. I think it’s one of the purest, best self-care lists of all time (plus I’m featured in it, so that’s a bonus !)

I thought I’d share it here - enjoy:

Have you stretched?

Did you eat a vegetable?

Do you have water?

Did you sit in the sun?

Have you taken 5 deep breaths?

Have you looked forward to the light at the end of the tunnel?

Have you called your mom?

Have you called your brother?

Have you asked for help?

Have you let your partner know your emotional and logistical wants?

Have you admitted your emotional needs to the people around you/are you standing up for yourself?

Did you take a nap?

Have you taken a bath/done a face mask/cared for your body in a comforting way?

Have you read?

Have you cared for someone else?

Have you checked in with your whole self and asked what you need?

If you’ve done all of it and it doesn’t work - refer back to calling your mom.

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Thinking about self care

I realized that they had not cared for me and my feelings in that situation because they cannot. They do not even care for themselves.

I recently led a short meditation experience.  We did a loving kindness meditation using the breath.  I’ve added the outline of the practice below.

What I wanted to share about was my experience during the meditation.   As I directed the meditation toward myself, I felt an inability to connect to the intentions of joy and self-care.   I breathed with it, sat with it, and just-could-not.

When I directed the meditation toward someone that I was upset with, I found a connection.  When I got to “may they care for themselves,” I remembered that they do not and felt a connection between the block in myself and my intention toward them. 

The back story was that I was upset with this person because they had done something in their own self-interest that they knew would upset me.   This was a person who I always considered had my best interest at heart.  Someone who I considered to be one of my “champions” in life and who would protect me.  And yet, when it came to something they wanted – they chose their own interests over my feelings.   It was a loss.  A disillusionment. 

In my meditation, I realized that they had not cared for me and my feelings in that situation because they cannot.  They do not even care for themselves.   

It has helped me to let it go. 

It has helped me to realize in a new way just how important self-care is.  

Loving-Kindness Meditation Practice Instructions

 To practice loving-kindness meditation, sit in a comfortable and relaxed manner. Take two or three deep breaths with slow, long and complete exhalations. Let go of any concerns or preoccupations. For a few minutes, feel or imagine the breath moving through the center of your chest - in the area of your heart.

Lovingkindness is first practiced toward oneself, since we often have difficulty loving others without first loving ourselves. Sitting quietly, mentally repeat, slowly and steadily following the rhythm of your breath, the following or similar phrases:

 May I have joy, may I be content, may I be peaceful and at ease, may I be whole, may I care for myself.

 While you say these phrases, allow yourself to sink into the intentions they express. Loving-kindness meditation consists primarily of connecting to the intention of wishing ourselves or others happiness. However, if feelings of warmth, friendliness, or love arise in the body or mind, connect to them, allowing them to grow as you repeat the phrases. As an aid to the meditation, you might hold an image of yourself in your mind's eye. This helps reinforce the intentions expressed in the phrases.

 After a period of directing loving-kindness toward yourself, bring to mind a friend or someone in your life who has deeply cared for you. Then slowly repeat phrases of loving-kindness toward them:

 May you have joy, may you be content, may you be peaceful and at ease, may you be whole, may you care for yourself.

 As you say these phrases, again sink into their intention or heartfelt meaning. And, if any feelings of loving-kindness arise, connect the feelings with the phrases so that the feelings may become stronger as you repeat the words.

 As you continue the meditation, you can bring to mind other friends, neighbors, acquaintances, strangers, animals, our planet and finally, when you are ready, people with whom you have difficulty. You can either use the same phrases, repeating them again and again, or make up phrases that better represent the loving-kindness you feel toward these beings.

 One variation on the lovingkindness meditation is to simply repeat the phrase “I am lovingkindness” or “I am loving awareness” over and over with the rhythm of your breath. 

 If you find the mind wandering or you find yourself struggling at a certain point, just as in the cultivation of any type of mindfulness, simply notice what’s going on in the mind. Then, simply, return to your breath and include yourself and your wandering mind into the field of loving-kindness.  Come back to your breath and the phrases resting in the feeling radiating out of those phrases, and underneath that, out of your heart.

 Sometimes during loving-kindness meditation, seemingly opposite feelings such as anger, grief, or sadness may arise. Take these to be signs that your heart is softening, revealing what is held there. You can either shift to mindfulness practice or you can—with whatever patience, acceptance, and kindness you can muster for such feelings—direct loving-kindness toward them. Above all, remember that there is no need to judge yourself for having these feelings.

 Adapted from teachings by Steven Smith, Jon Kabat-Zinn’s Guided Mindfulness Meditation Series 3 and "The Issue at Hand" by Gil Fronsdal.

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The Universe

The universe informs the actions of all its parts,
And their feedback alters the universal flow

“A single, unbroken entity
in flowing motion
in which each part
replicates the whole.
The three basic manifestations of this entity are:
Matter
Energy
Meaning
And each enfolds the other two.

The universe informs the actions of all its parts,
And their feedback alters the universal flow.”

(David Bohm’s proposed understanding of the universe)

David Joseph Bohm (December 20, 1917 – October 27, 1992) was an American scientist who has been described as one of the most significant theoretical physicists of the 20th century and who contributed unorthodox ideas to quantum theory, neuropsychology, and the philosophy of the mind.

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Visions

After a few days… Christ was hidden again

I love mystics. I just got back from Richard Rohr’s conference in Albuquerque on the “Universal Christ” . He opens his book with a vision that the mystic Caryll Houselander had in which she suddenly saw Christ in everyone.

I looked up Caryll Houselander and read that this was not her only vision, but that the gist of all her visions was the same - Christ in everyone. As a young girl, she had her first vision in a convent. One day, she entered a room and saw a  Bavarian nun sitting by herself, weeping and polishing shoes ( I wonder how she knew the nun was Bavarian?). This was during a time when there was much anti-German prejudice. As she stared, she saw the nun's head being pressed down by a crown of thorns and she interpreted this as Christ's suffering in the woman.

Later, in July 1918, Houselander was sent by her mother on an errand. On her way to the street vendor, she looked up and saw what she later described as a huge Russian-style icon spread across the sky. The icon was of Christ crucified, lifted up and looking down, brooding over the world. Shortly after, she read in a newspaper an article about the assassination of Russian Tsar Nicholas II. She said the face she saw in the newspaper photograph was the face in her vision of the crucified Christ.

And then, her third vision (the one Richard Rohr wrote about) occurred when she was on a busy underground train:

“I was in an underground train, a crowded train in which all sorts of people jostled together, sitting and strap-hanging - workers of every description going home at the end of the day. Quite suddenly I saw in my mind, but as vividly as a wonderful picture. Christ in them all. But I saw more than that; not only was Christ in every one of them, living in them, dying in them, rejoicing in them, sorrowing in them, but because He was i them, and because they were here, the whole world was here too, here in the underground train; not only the world as it was at that moment, not only all the people in all the countries of the world, but all those people who had lived in the past, and all those yet to come.

I came out into the street and walked for a long time in the crowds. It was the same here, on every side, in every passer-by, everywhere - Christ.

I had long been haunted by the Russian Conception of the humiliated Christ, the lame Christ limping through Russia, begging His bread; the Christ who, all through the ages, might return to the earth and come even to sinners to win their compassion by His need. Now, in the flash of a second, I knew that this dream is a fact; not a dream, not the fantasy or legend of a devout people, not the prerogative of the Russians, but Christ in man….

I saw too the reverence that everyone must have for a sinner; instead of condoning his sin, which is in reality his utmost sorrow, one must comfort Christ who is suffering in him. And this reverence must be paid even to those sinners whose souls seem to be dead, because it is Christ, who is the life of the soul, who is dead in them; they are His tombs, and Christ in the tomb is potentially the risen Christ….

Christ is everywhere; in Him every kind of life has a meaning and has an influence of every other kind of life. It is not the foolish sinner like myself, running about the world with reprobates and feeling magnanimous, who comes closest to them and brings them healing; it is the contemplative in her cell who has never set eyes on them, bu tin whom Christ fasts and prays for them - or it may be a charwoman in whom Christ makes Himself and servant again, or a king whose crown of gold hides a crown of thorns. Realization of our oneness in Christ is the only cure for human loneliness. For me, too, it is the only ultimate meaning of life, the only thing that gives meaning and purpose to every life.

After a few days the “vision” faded. People looked the same again, there was no longer the same shock of insight for me each time I was face to face with another human being, Christ was hidden again; indeed, through the year to come I would have to seek for Him, and usually I would find Him in others - and still more in myself - only through a deliberate and blind act of faith”

The three mystical experiences she claimed to have experienced convinced her that Christ is to be found in all people, even those whom the world shunned because they did not conform to certain standards of piety. She would write that if people looked for Christ in only the "saints," they would not find him. She is described as having smoked, drank, and had a sharp tongue.

At the conference, I was speaking to a man about the stories in the New Testament that describe people’s encounters with Christ after the resurrection. Mary thinks Jesus is the gardener. The disciples on the road to Emmaeus don’t recognize him. Haven’t you always wondered about that? How could they not have recognized him? I mean, if someone I loved died and came back and appeared to me, I would recognize them! I have often dismissed this part of the story - or more accurately ignored it because it was baffling - and thought, “well, maybe his resurrected body looked super different.” Even though I knew this was a lame explanation.

But what IF:

It WAS the gardener.

It WAS another dude on the road to Emmaeus.

And it WAS Christ in those people. Just like Caryll Houselander’s vision?

“Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight.” Luke 24:31

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