Always Stumbling; Never Falling

Today is the first day of my summer vacation. I have had perhaps the best year ever of my thirty-one years in a public school classroom; certainly one of the best five years. Last summer at this time, I was packing to travel with a group to Northumbria in the United Kingdom. This summer holds very little in the way of planned activities. I just did not want to fill up the days with doing things, but rather, my plan (or intention, if you will) is to let the days present themselves to me for whatever task needs my attention. There is a luxury in this strategy which I do not have when I wake to an alarm clock and am continually at my chosen profession’s beck-and-call.

A few years ago, I completed a process of discernment for ordination as a priest in the Episcopal Church. Since I was in my early thirties, the priestly vocation has presented itself on my dance card, and I have flirted off and on with the “what if’s” of being a priest in the institutional church perhaps too much of my life. For the most part, it seemed I was always stumbling into situations that affirmed the call to a priestly vocation.

I was invited to go forward in the process, and I began a course in Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE). While that experience is something I would like to return to after I retire from the classroom, ultimately, I said no to becoming a priest. I simply cannot know what the outcome would have been to my life had I persisted in vocational change, but somewhere in the midst of hospital visits and leading small groups at my parish, I realized that I had both my paycheck and my passion in the students with whom I shared a classroom each and every day. Would I have been an effective priest? Probably. Am I an effective teacher? Absolutely! And, yet, it has taken me a great many years to love who I am as an educator.

Deepak Chopra has this to say about the unknown:

Over the years, you have formed likes and dislikes and learned to accept certain limits. None of this is the real you. You can’t force your authentic self to emerge all at once, however. Because it is painful to strip away the thick layers of illusion, you have to allow your soul to reveal itself in its own time.

Be assured that the unknown is awaiting you – an unknown that has nothing to do with the “I” you already know. The part of you that you know is the part that flickers out all too fast. When you feel a new impulse, an uplifting thought, an insight that you have never acted upon before, embrace the unknown. Cherish it as tenderly as a newborn baby. God lives in the unknown, and when you can embrace it fully, you will be free.

What Chopra’s words mean to me is that the ego, the “I you already know” gets in the way of our soul journey far too often. It becomes the proverbial obstacle course that slows us down and causes us to stumble. Carl Jung would say it this way, “Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside awakes.” The psalmist offers additional hope in Psalm 27:34 when he says,

The valiant one whose steps are guided by the LORD,
who will delight in his way,
May stumble, but he will never fall,
for the LORD holds his hand.


When I thought I wanted to be a priest, I looked outside far too often, and even when I saw the reality of being a priest had a lot of negatives to it, I hung on to the illusion by making excuses or telling myself I could just take a small parish and be happy making a small salary. The reality is that as an older woman in the priesthood, I might not ever be called to have my own parish, but would probably work as someone’s assistant until I retired.

The truth of the matter is that I am a priest. Okay, I am not ordained in an institutional church, but I can do almost everything a priest does, and as an anamcara, or soul friend, I do a great many of those activities in the world. As a Eucharistic minister, I distribute communion to the faithful. I listen to others’ deep concerns about their journeys. I counsel my students and others about their lives. I visit the sick, pray for many, and I share my studies with others. This kind of life is the way I understand the priesthood of all believers. No, I do not wear a collar, but I am also not shackled to institutional expectations. I am free to be my authentic self, a self that does not include a profession in a hierarchical setting. Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying that all people called to professional ministry are shackled or lack authenticity. I am also fully aware that working in public education can have many frustrations with hierarchy. But one cannot happily force an outcome that is contrary to the driving force inside, deeper than the ego, that resides in Spirit.

What difference do any of these ideas make? I know for myself that I still have a lot of letting go to do. There are those rare days when I still think about a seminary education, especially now that my daughter is in discernment for the same role in life. I think that I can certainly echo the sentiments of Wayne Dyer who says, “Remember this rule: Stop taking yourself so seriously! Get your ego out of the way and connect back to kindness—that from which you came. The truth is that we are all spiritual beings. And when you see yourself as a piece of God, then you see yourself as connected to everything and everyone.” We all do a lot of stumbling, but by the grace of God, we will not fall.

For more of the ideas of Chopra, Jung, and Dyer see these websites:
http://www.drwaynedyer.com/articles/seven-secrets-of-a-joyful-life
http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/c/carl_jung.html
http://archive.chopra.com/namaste/march08/deepak

Poetry

Poem for the Poet


A poem for Cathy

April 27, 2013

Janet T. Atkins



I am infected by literature

It rolls through my mind like a nor’easter

I open the oven door and there is Sylvia

weeping for her beautiful self drowned in a mirror

and when I am in the woods, I come across a babbling

stream, but all I hear is Virginia’s voice

whose feminism gave her

the whole world for her country

and May Swenson whose religion

was poetry—

otherwise, “it seemed like a redundancy.”

But, by far, it is Rilke who teaches me that

“the only journey is the one within,”

and without literature, I would have no map,

no compass

with which to set my pace.

Then let it come, this muse, these questions,

and bathe me in the life of words.

For without stories—without the Word—there is

no life.

O Holy Night

Pep Talk #551: Yes, it’s Christmas Eve. Yes, there should be joy and happiness in the air. Yes, there should be children singing some where…or angels. And so what if it is dark and rainy outside? This evening is Christmas, for goodness sake! And, yet, here I am moping about my house, a husband in bed with a sick headache, and me with nothing to do…not really.


Earlier, I went to the market to buy some items to make soup. I usually thrive on being creative in the kitchen, but even making a new soup seemed mundane and bothersome. And the market was so crowded, I had a momentary sense of panic and hid myself in the dog treats section long enough to pull it together. I know this may not be normal behavior, but I wonder how many others are on the edge during the holidays? How often do we set ourselves up for something so magnificent as the joy of the birth of the Christ child, only to be disappointed and let down by the fol-de-rol that isn’t?

I have no children at home this night. Yes, I have an empty nest, and yes, my daughter is flying in tomorrow evening, but my son is incarcerated and will not share Christmas with us in our home for another four to five years. There are no grandchildren, and my brothers (who both have very large families) and my mother had their celebration this morning. We chose not to travel because I am serving at church tomorrow morning and we’re picking up our daughter tomorrow night. We may not even go to a service this Christmas Eve.

This afternoon, a soul friend of mine now living in Virginia sent me an email note reminding me of a favorite passage from Report to Greco by Nikos Kazantzakis. This Greek novelist is my favorite fiction writer, and along with the poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke, I have been lifted over and over to places I cannot go on my own willpower. The passage is as follows:

"Stay Madam Soul," said God, "do not leave."
"What do you want of me, Lord?"
"I want you to undress, Madam Soul."
"Lord, how can you ask such a thing of me. I'm ashamed."
"Madam Soul, nothing must stand between us,
not even the most delicate of veils.
Therefore, madam, you must undress."
"Here I am, Lord. I have undressed. Take me."

It seems that I am properly chastened this evening as I think about the incredible timing of this email message. Instead of sinking into the mire of depression and despondency that is attempting to engulf me, I am invited to sit quietly with God who is mysteriously born tonight in a stable. I am invited to be with the Holy who also hurts for all the desperate children of the world—my own two children, those afraid to go to school for fear of being killed, those who live in war zones, those who are hungry and those who are abused. I am invited to be intimate with God, to be God’s lover, and to be present just as I am. That is what tonight is all about. And so, I turn my thoughts now to this approaching holy night, and go in search of the stable. I sit silently gazing beholding the holy. And I hear the angels singing.

Living with Paradox

After our group pilgrimage to Nether Springs in Northumbria, UK last June, I decided to become a Novice Companion of the Community. As such, I must study the Rule through a series of modules. When I have finished, I can then decide along with the seniors of the Community if Companionship is right for me. I thought I'd share my response to the first module here on my blog.

My heart response to Module One is a rather bemused pondering of just how pervasive paradox is in my life for I have lived with paradox for most of my 56 years. For example, for over ten years, from 1986-1997, I participated in Kairos Ministry, an ecumenical prison weekend, and now I go to visit my incarcerated son once a month while he serves a ten year sentence in the same system that I once ministered in. Each and everyday I go to a job where I stand in front of young people and present lessons from literature while I am very much the introvert and ever so much more comfortable with the contemplative life of the monastery. I am married, yet, I find myself gravitating to community life beyond the home my husband and I have built together, and as a result have been associated with several monastic houses over the years.


Other paradoxes abound, but they all seem to be a part of the ordinariness of my life. Marsha Sinetar’s book, Ordinary People as Monks and Mystics seems to speak clearly here –paradox is nothing special, and yet, it is very special. The questions are alive in the tension created by paradox, and that encourages me greatly. Instead of fixed dogma, there is fluidity and flexibility. Thus, the image of tide in/tide out is very appealing as well as challenging. I realize I will have to work more on the tide out part of my life. I have realized that for some years now since I have focused on developing my spirituality through the training I received as an anamcara. Other than work, I have my volunteering in a network that serves homeless people, and sometimes I am able to help out at an after-school program for underprivileged children by tutoring and serving the evening meal. I am often weary after a day serving and loving the seventy-five students God has given me this term and being a mentor and collaborator with the colleagues I see each day. And yet, God calls us to do what we can to carry the Gospel into the world.

At home, my husband and I live fairly simply, but we each try to support each other both emotionally, spiritually, and physically. I am a good listener. He does a lot of the chores around the house. There, too, is paradox, for we don’t always fill the “expected” roles of husband and wife. For example, I handle the finances and he cleans the kitchen. Our life is based on mutual respect and a deep love for the other. We are accountable to one another in our life together. Our home is also open to others, especially once a month when we are joined by friends for house church. We say Celtic Evening Prayer, have a “pot luck” meal and conversation, then join together for Compline. This time is part of our mission, and I believe the next step is to open the doors of our home to other in our immediate neighborhood.

Since I am just beginning to explore my relationship with the Northumbria Community, I think I can say the biggest paradox may be in the concept of dispersed community. Nether Springs is a great many miles from Greer, South Carolina, USA, yet, it is in my heart. While there in June, every step that I walked around Acton Home Farm made an imprint on my soul. The prayer is what sustains me. To know we all stop and do the Office everyday and that we use the same prayer guide is so “satisfying” and yet there is the longing to set foot on the property again—a longing as strong as the tide that is pulled in and out by natural forces around Holy Island twice a day. For now, living with paradox is good.

Reflections on Northumbria: Part II

Two weeks have now passed since our return from our trip to England. My husband and I are still bemoaning the fact that public transportation is so poor in the States. In fact, I was just commenting on how lovely it would be to hop on a train to make our afternoon trip to Columbia for Jamie and Jonathan's wedding rehearsal. I've volunteered to watch baby Jonathan while the family is busy figuring out what they are supposed to do during the ceremony taking place tomorrow night. I am really excited about seeing this wedding. Actually, it's the blessing of a civil ceremony since the couple was wed last year before Jonathan had to go out to sea. Now they are going to have the marriage blessed and baptize their child in the same liturgy.

One thing we did while in England was to not allow our lack of a car to hamper our movement in any way, shape or form. Instead of bemoaning what could be our restricted freedom, we took the bus, train or taxi, or simply walked where we wanted to go. Automobile transportation gives Americans a lot of freedom to go where they may want to go, but it also has many negative sides--not the least of which is seen in our continuing struggle with climate change. In the UK, one can catch a bus, and with a little patience, master the bus schedule so that the mundane tasks of life: going to the market, having dinner in town, going to church are possible as well as seeing the countryside or going on holiday to many of the various tourist sites in the area. Public transportation is simply not seen as the transportation option for the poor.

I have to admit that I experienced some trepidation on making arrangements for our trip. I've never done an entire two week's trip to England without some kind of tour company to back me up. This time we were totally on our own making arrangements and deciding what we wanted to do, and how we were going to do them. In 2007, Michael and I went a tour with some folk from church and stayed behind, and we relied on public transportation for that trip as well. All worked out to our advantage except getting back to Heathrow. There was a lot of luggage-hauling up and down steps when we made station changes, but that was the only negative we experienced.

So, here's some things we learned from our foray into Northumbria. First, rely on a taxi if you cannot figure out the bus schedule or if you need to get someplace at a particular time. We chose to go by taxi to the bus station for the trip to Holy Island, for example, so that the wait would not be too long, and we could be sure to catch the appropriate bus. We also used a taxi to go to church on Sunday morning. The taxi cost the five of us five pounds (about $8), so we ended up paying one pound each. Compare that to the short trip from JFK to the Marriot in Queens on our return that cost us $20.

Another tip we picked up is to look for discounts where they are applicable. Because we used the bus, we got a 10-20% discount at every attraction we visited, including Barter Books. Those discounts were applied to all admissions to the castles we visited as well.

Look for the smaller often "hidden" places to eat. Don't be shy about asking the locals for their opinions. We had a lovely lunch at a tea shop in Warkworth that was very reasonably priced. Our dining experience included smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwiches, fish soup (loaded with shrimp, crab, etc.), and in Alnwick we found a restaurant called Lilburn's. Lilburns is a family run business based on Paikes Street Alnwick Northumberland (http://www.lilburns.co.uk/index.htm). We also ate at Carlo's Fish and Chips (http://www.carlosfishandchips.co.uk/), and we had tea at Barter Books (http://www.barterbooks.co.uk/). That afternoon was truly lovely, and in spite of the rain (the only day we were somewhat hampered by rain), hanging out in a bookstore was medicine for my soul.

We also took the bus to Bamburgh for a day. We visited the castle, St. Aidan's Church, and the village. We had coffee in the afternoon, but the highlight for me was walking on the beach. Of course, it was too cold and windy to get in the water, but the breeze and the views were amazing. The Farne Islands are nearby, and with the castle for a backdrop, against the incredibly blue skies, the day was just about perfect. Arriva Buses has a route called Castles and Coastlines. One can purchase a weekly pass and travel on any bus for any amount of times during that week. This route stopped in all the little villages, and there was much to see as it meandered along the coastal highway.

As far as places to stay in Northumbria, there are many B&B places in the villages, but the option we chose was a cottage on a farm. A large number of farmers have had to convert part of their property to rentals, and we stayed at Alnydyke Farms. It is a working farm, but the cottage was fenced off from the barns and outhouses. The setting was incredibly lovely--rolling hills, lots of barley in the fields, and cows lowing morning and evening. The walk into town was a little over a mile, but of course, we waved the bus down any number of times, and hopped on board.


I would like to add one other note about the hospitality and graciousness that we experienced while in the UK. We went to St. Michael's for Sunday liturgy, and we were very surprised and pleased at the warm welcome from the congregation. There were any number of people who wanted to talk to us and who went out of their way to make us feel welcome. They had a number of children who participated in the liturgy, and they had a very nice coffee hour afterwards. The present church has been been on this site since 1464! I am really looking forward to returning to that part of the world next summer. It was truly a blessed pilgrimage.

Reflections on Northumbria: Part I

Today, I am taking vulnerability very seriously. I have recently returned from a two plus weeks pilgrimage to England, but on returning, we got into a tangle with weather related issues so that instead of being home on Friday evening, we finally made it back on Monday afternoon. I'll spare my readers the details of storms and cancelled flights, but the end result is that I got exhausted, and so now I am sick. I went to the doctor yesterday with asthmatic wheezing and a fever. Now I'm sitting in the recliner resting, and I am finding myself experiencing vulnerability because I think I could be doing so many other things. Yet, sitting still, resting, and taking the opportunity to listen to God while taking the advice of my health professional is the only thing really necessary.

While attending an introductory retreat at the Northumbria Community June 11-15, I learned that vulnerability can be a lifestyle. Intentional vulnerability includes being teachable, and it includes spending time alone with God. So, today, I picked up Celtic Daily Prayer and said the morning office at 6 a.m. I would have gotten around to the saying the office at some point, but beginning my day with prayer, knowing I needed to just sit and be for a while was a much better approach than something a little more random.

The stop at Nether Springs was the second one on the pilgrimage made with my husband, Michael, and close friend, Pam. We met up with two other good friends, Bill and Jeri in Edinburgh. They live in Europe part time, but when they are in the States, they worship with us in our house church. The five of us spent the four days with community members and other guests as we explored the rule of the community: availability and vulnerability. Being available to God and to others seems simple enough, but in retrospect, I now believe it takes a lifetime to learn how to "be" this way. All the while one is learning availability, one is, in fact being available.

As a trained spiritual friend (or anamcara, if you will), I have made it part of my own rule of life to practice openness and hospitality toward others on the journey. That's part of being vulnerable--and it's an important aspect when the other is seeking that place where he or she can be honest and hopeful that someone is listening. That's part my understanding of the rule and the experience of the Northumbria Community. I felt like I was listened to when I spoke to a particular community member. And I want that for people who come to me to talk as well.

I am particularly touched by the rhythm of the community that is expressed in the rule. The rule embraces both silence and service; being alone with God and being available for hospitality; being comfortable in both the cell of one's heart and coracle when sent out on mission. It's the best expression of contemplation and action that I've ever run into either in community life or in the literature of spirituality. I think so often in modern churches, we are either focused on being spiritual and attend Bible studies and classes on religious topics OR we are mission-oriented and volunteer countless hours serving in soup kitchens or shelters of one kind or another. The Rule expresses a balance. It expects one to be present to God and present to others. As Celtic Daily Prayer says, living this way "is not something to be entered into lightly!"

A prayer attributed to St. Aidan sums up these thoughts, I believe:

Leave me alone with God
as much as may be,
As the tide draws the waters
close in upon the shore
make me an island, set apart,
alone with You, God
holy to you.

Then with the turning of the tide,
prepare me to carry
Your presence
to the busy world beyond,
the world that rushes in on me
till the waters come again
and fold me back to You.
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Photograph by Margie Nea

Holy Thursday

I began this day, as always, with a time of meditation and prayer. After my morning prayer, I spent a few minutes listening to a video meditation by John Philip Newell from New Harmony. This series called “Journeying Toward Resurrection has been a vital part of my Holy Week observance. In yesterday’s mediation he says,

“Our sacred sites must not be cut off from the holy temple of the earth. Our sacred sites must not represent enclosed separation from the other peoples and the other creatures of the earth… We must find language, rituals, symbolism that keeps reminding us that the primary context of our sanctuary of our life is the earth evolving and unfolding from God.”

I, then, put on my gardening clothes and went outside to spread pine bark in my garden. Last night one of my yellow irises bloomed and several more are ready to "pop." I continued to work outside with pruning and pulling weeds. Michael came out as well, and spread fertilizer on all the trees and shrubs. After seven years, our gardens are beginning to need only maintenance work—a much better situation than the constant coaxing and pleading for survival of good plants and demise of weeds. We have made our own little Eden, and are now planning to put in a labyrinth in the back garden where we have a fire pit and gravel walkway.

As I worked today, I keep thinking back to Newell’s comments about the earth as sacred. Certainly my Native American ancestors felt that way. Certainly when I am working in my gardens I feel that way. How, then, do I bring that connection to every moment of my day? How do I find language, ritual and symbolism to sustain me especially when I am inside a climate controlled concrete box for the majority of my working hours? Tonight as I write this blog entry, I am listening to the rain pouring down outside. The water will aid the fertilizer to sink into the soil. It will encourage more growth and it will bring a freshness to the world that has been missing in the last several years of drought. I like the idea of the rain as bringing forth resurrection.

Here again are some words for John Philip:

“We are allowing ourselves to imagine what resurrection would look like in our lives and world. A risen Christianity rising to truly bless the earth will occur to the extent that we remember with humility that the wisdoms at the heart of all great religious traditions are given not to compete with each other but to complete each other.”

Tomorrow is Good Friday. It is the second day of the Sacred Triduum. I look forward to seeing the refreshed world into which the green blade springeth. And I look forward to seeing Jesus Christ in the world and in the faces of my sisters and brothers as we celebrate the rising that will truly bless us all.
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Listen to John Philip Newell's meditations on YouTube.com ("Journeying Toward Resurrection"). You can also find recordings by The Smoke Faires there. They sing an awesome version of "Now the Green Blade Springeth."