Glimmers

Dear Friends,

I’ve been thinking about “disappointment.”

Do you know disappointment? Do you know the “downer” feeling when things don’t go your way and, as a grown up, you’re supposed to accept, adjust and “move on?” Disappointment feels like a dark cloud between me and the elusive contentment that I prefer….Moving on? How?

I seem to stay in the sad place when my hopes and expectations are not met…. longer than I would like. AND on top of that, I feel guilty for my inability to let go of my disappointment! I think, what do you have to be disappointed about Lisa? Look at people around you who face serious illness, can’t find work, are displaced from their home or country, or at odds with family members. What do you, on this lovely June day, possibly need that you don’t already have? Get over yourself and your “disappointment!”

I wonder, do we talk to others with the same impatience and judgement that we use to talk to ourselves? I doubt it. Can I (can we) treat myself with the gentle affection I offer to a neighbor’s grandchild as she visits on a sunny afternoon? If a loving presence is good for her, wouldn’t it be good for me too?

What’s wrong, Sadie? You seem a little “down” today.
Mrs Irish, my dad said I can’t go with my sister to the movies.
She’s going with her friends from school.
Ahh – you wanted to go?
Yes! I was the one who wanted to see that movie! But now I can’t!
And you’re disappointed….I’m sorry.
I don’t like being disappointed Mrs Irish! I feel it inside, its pushing at me.
I don’t like disappointment either Sadie. Can I stay here with you?
Could you? Could you watch me? Look, I can do a cartwheel!  

Is it really that simple? Can I make a shift in the feeling of disappointment just by being “present” to it? Can I love my little girl self as she adjusts, at her own pace, to unmet expectations? Can I be patient with myself as I manage responsibilities and relationships with the reality of unpredictability all around me?

I say yes. On this new June day, I choose to treat myself with compassion and to honor my feelings, whatever they are. I’ll consider trying a cartwheel later!

Seeking the Light,
Lisa

Dear Friends,

Something new happened for me this Spring.

I stopped waiting for leaves to appear and began seeing the beauty of the trees, just as they are. I admired the grey-brown textured trunks, reaching up into the sky. Branches, thick at first, created a labyrinth as they narrowed and met one another above me. Some trees were clumped together as tall families hovering over the ground below. I looked far into the woods, no shady green branches were blocking my view. I saw past their upright lines and beyond, light came through from the other side. In a few months, this will be a forest. It will be a place of shelter and quiet. But today, the space feels like a foreign land inviting me into a new perspective.

The eagles called me to this new way of seeing. Their flight past my window thrills my heart every single time. They dip into the lake for a snack and then, whoosh, up into the tree to munch on their catch. I watch their naps, occasional preening, and their community meetings of 2, 3 or 4. Without leaves to block my view, the private life of my eagle friends has become accessible to me.

I don’t want to rush the arrival of green that covers the world above me. I’m looking for new signs of life that are hidden when summer’s leaves arrive. I find I am grateful for the trees in their vulnerable state. They have revealed another beauty around and within their midst. With quiet assurance, the trees have survived our Connecticut winter, and I wonder…have I?

I think of my own vulnerable places. Can I, like the trees, live for today just as I am? Can I see beauty  in what is, without imposing expectation or defense?In other Springs, I saw the trees as “naked” as I waited impatiently for their green vestments. This year, I’m learning that these noble trees “are” just as they are supposed to be. There is grace in their faithful acceptance of the rhythm of life. Could it be, that I too am just where I’m supposed to be? Can I embrace what is within, around and before me? May I stand tall with my tree friends and remember…”I am enough.”

Peace be with you this day, Lisa

Dear Friends,

It is what it is

I have struggled with this phrase ever since it became part of our everyday conversation. In writing it down here, I can’t believe it’s only 5 words! Just 5 words, but when spoken they drop like a 2 ton weight right in the middle of the room. “It is what it is” stops conversation, deflates hope, and forces a supposed “reality check” around a certain situation. Is it like that for you?

Originally, I blamed my resistance to this phrase due to my lack of maturity or my inability to accept the limitations that life presents. There’s something to that, I am a “glass is half full” kinda gal, so I like to stay on the bright side. It just sounds like resignation when people use those 5 words. Recently, I’ve adopted another translation of “it is what it is” and would like to share it with you.

Maybe you too wonder about this current statement 
and would like an alternative?

On a fabulous March weekend, I was on retreat with a dear group of Mercy Associates at our beloved Mercy-be-the-Sea. We were being led in prayer and insight by Mary Daly, RSM, a treasure. After we settled into the reflective process of retreat, focused on the Mercy of God, she asked us to think about:

How have I encountered God’s care for me?
When has God’s love been easy? When has it been hard?
What have I learned from God’s love?

I settled in with my journal and named real people who love me just as I am, that’s an experience of God’s care for me. I named moments of welcoming and resisting the boundless, merciful love of God. It’s crazy to turn away from such love. But I, like all of us, struggle with feelings of self-worth once in a while. Fortunately, I also have experiences of accepting God’s mercy. So I then asked myself, “What have I learned from God’s love?” listening carefully for my heart’s truest answer. And here it is.

I have not done anything to deserve God’s love. And yet it is present in my life! God’s love exists all around me. It is revealed through a single tear, a new mother’s wonder, the unfolding of a Spring bud. Through my husband’s patience, through creativity, through moments of courage. God’s love is within me, within all of us. It illuminates our hearts, enlivens our hope, and holds our pain with great tenderness just by it’s very existence. God’s love is the foundation of life, it is the energy of creation – what was, what is and what will be. In other words? GOD’S LOVE IS WHAT IT IS!

So, my sisters and brothers, I join with you who choose Love. Let’s stand together and remind ourselves of the presence of Love. Let’s join with those who humbly offer their gifts for the good of the world. Let us transform the sound of resignation to an aria of hope. May our hearts remain open as we witness God’s boundless, merciful love……It truly is what it is!

Blessings to you from Beseck, Lisa

Dear Friends,

I emerge from eight weeks of a dedicated writing life, with four more to go. My mind and heart are swimming with ideas and images as I seek to bring new hope to the topic of Grief. This March Glimmer is just that for me, a glimmer of perspective and reconnection with each of you.

It’s hard work to write a book! All the glamour of “being published” is taking a back seat to the effort to make sense and contribute something that is helpful. To speak with authenticity, the work also includes returning to the deepest places of my understanding of loss and the tangled way through it. “Grieving – the Sacred Art” offers a passionate respect for Grief’s healing response to the painful reality of Loss. I look forward to sharing it with you, especially those who are processing losses.

The families of birds that visit our bird feeders continue to provide respite for this writer’s heart. Their cheerful energy makes me smile on a snowy, grey afternoon or in the bright blue of morning. Recently, we added a new feeder. It looks like a donut made from yellow, green and blue mosaic tiles. The birds sit on or in it, head or tail poking out, as they wish. The day they discovered it seemed to bring extra energy to the scene as they flew between one feeder to the next. Their delight in a new “friend” intrigued me. I wonder, can I experience delight in each of the people and places I come upon in my day? Can I sing my song of joy as I discover new windows to life, to Love?

An added feature of this dear mosaic feeder is the little squares of light it reflects into my writing room. As it twirls around, the lights move across the walls and I smile some more. May we, you and I, welcome the opportunities for life whenever they appear. And may we rejoice in the reflections of Light around us.

with love, Lisa

Dear Friends,

2016 is underway….here in Connecticut we’ve had a mild winter so far. Most of us are very grateful about that! But I continue to be mystified by the passage of time, it moves so much faster than I realize.

As it turns out, I am trying to finish a second book this winter, “Grief – the Sacred Art…Hope in the Land of Loss.” It is to be published by Skylight Paths Publishing in November. I fear I must reserve my creative energy for this project and cut back on this month’s Glimmer. Instead, let me share a quote, by Mark Nepo, that I encountered recently. It has been very helpful for me…

Repetition is not a failure.
Ask the waves, ask the leaves, ask the wind.

Have you ever “battered” yourself for not following through with something? Have you ever shaken your head when you realized you were trying to meet this one goal…again? Do you see your limitations instead of your gifts? your fears instead of your courage? Then this quote is for you.

Keeping the light going takes practice…

Join me in imagining ocean waves. I hope you’ve had many opportunities to just sit and watch them roll in and pull back… some larger and noisier, others quiet…bringing shells on the shore, pulling sand back into the sea…in and out. Now, in your reverie tell me, do you critique the waves? Do you wonder if they’re inadequate because they keep doing this over and over? No, I’m sure you don’t, their rhythm becomes soothing for most of us, their repetition can become our teacher.

Just for your consideration on this February day, dear friends, when you need to get back to something. Offer yourself the compassion you deserve and listen to the waves.

with lots of love from Lake Beseck, Lisa

Dear Friends,

Two years ago, I wrote my first Glimmer. I was writing about Epiphany, as I am this January night, a lovely Christian tradition celebrating the arrival of wisdom figures from far away. These three traveled a great distance to kneel before the Divine. At the time, it felt like an appropriate theme as I stepped forward in community ministry. I too, seek the Light. I find myself in awe of Love in the world. I am willing to be a witness of that Love.

On Epiphany, in this new year of 2016, I entered an experience of Bethlehem and made my own journey to the Christ child. The church hall’s transformation allowed my heart to be open to a make-believe Holy Land while experiencing very real feelings within myself. When my name was taken for the census, I wondered about my status as a woman in a restricted culture. As the kind purveyor of herbs shared her goods, I felt welcomed to a simpler time. All around me, folks moved between vendors’ tents in traditional clothing, sharing stories in the marketplace. In the distance, I saw Mary and Joseph with their infant. I held onto my husband’s arm as we climbed the steps to see Jesus. Some ache remains in my ankle, but I am so grateful for my time of healing. We approached, said hello to each and then moved closer to look into the eyes of the little guy. He fussed a bit, perhaps he was worn out from all the visitors. But his mama, “Mary,” was relaxed and just shifted him in her arms as she stood up to give us a closer look. His sweet face and soft skin pulled at my heart, he was beautiful! I looked into Mary’s eyes and saw a mother’s love. Without thinking I said, “Thank you for committing yourself to caring for this child,” speaking as if I was present at that long ago moment in Bethlehem. Those two parents chose to nurture the gift of Love that became a gift to us all. Tears filled my eyes and I became a traveler standing before the Divine.

Thomas Keating, OCSO, suggests that Epiphany might be called “enlightenment” in other religions. He said, “Epiphany is the inward realization and consciousness of being identified with who we really are. We are not our false selves or egos. Kiss them goodbye. ….the most important aspect in life is the epiphany or revelation of God that is going on all the time in the details of life.”

God IS going on all the time in the details of life! I wonder if it’s only disbelief that prevents us from seeing the Mystery right before our eyes. Do we get caught in the demands and routines of contemporary lifestyles? Are we desensitized to the amazing reality around us? My prayer is to stay open with an innocent heart, so I may see Love in my life…a father kissing his son’s head, a family honoring a loved one’s memory, a reconciliation between friends, a chaplain holding a patient’s hand…each are moments of Love. Each bring Love’s energy into the world, providing comfort, healing and nourishment. 

I seek to be part of this divine legacy. I seek to share Love as best I can so my energy is aligned with this great gift we’ve been given. Meister Eckhart tells us, “We are all meant to be mothers of God, for God is always needing to be born.” My response is yes, as I re-commit myself in this new year. May my eyes shine as “Mary’s” did when Love is present between us.

Blessings to you, dear friends, as your new year begins. May hope and courage rest in your heart and direct your choices.

You are thought of with love and gratitude,

Lisa

Dear Friends,

Advent has begun! In the Christian world, we have entered a time of “expectant waiting.” These four weeks are so much more than commercial preparations for Christmas. They invite us into a sacred time, a time of living with hope in the midst of uncertainty, or even despair.

I choose hope. With each step on my surgically repaired broken leg, I face some pain, look past fear, and believe I will walk and dance again. I hope. The image of my mother’s purple, paralyzed legs return, but so do memories of her courage and stamina. I gratefully absorb all of her legacy as I heal, one day at a time.

In the context of the world’s brokenness, however, my one broken bone seems so small…my one life, insignificant. The unending flow of Syrian refugees, the startling attack on citizens of Paris, and the confusing and constant images of gun violence in the U.S. come together in an anguished sob. I join my brokenness with the world’s, my grief with yours. It feels like we stand before a Well of Sadness as members of the human family. We stand together as individuals, each carrying concerns, fears, a hurting heart. This is the reality I bring to the season of hope this year.

Many of us try to avoid the Well of Sadness. When life brings loss, chaos, or betrayal, we skirt the edges to avoid the darkness and consuming pain we might find there. We are convinced there is no way out of such a place. It doesn’t matter that our own tears are part of the deep waters, the Well is to be avoided at all costs. The cost, though, is the best part of who we are. The journey through the Well of Sadness, no matter how we get there, brings us closer to our True Self, our Divine spark, our Source of Hope.

I’m reminded of a friend of mine who landed in Sadness a few years ago after a horrific loss. This month, she is hosting a Tree of Light event to remember loved ones and to assist the Syrian refugees. Like Mary and Joseph, like the refugees, she is making her own Advent journey with a hopeful heart. She courageously travels through the Well of Sadness and finds herself connected with folks across the world.

How can I do any less? I will keep going, aligning myself in prayer and in effort, with those facing great challenge. Each step, however risky, teaches me patience and courage. I, like my friend or the refugees or you, do not know the future. I surrender my attempts at control, I place my expectant heart in the hands of a loving God. I hope.

Peace be with you,

Lisa

Dear Friends,

It was a wonderful summer. The lake was back after a year with no water, and the dam fixed. My family and friends loved me into my 65th year of being alive. And I signed two book contracts, recommitting myself to the mystery of writing.

Then my fibula broke.

I could have written “I broke my leg.” Isn’t that the standard phrase to describe a broken leg? Instead, I chose “my fibula broke.” For me the difference is not that I named the bone. (Although I do like to learn and use anatomical terminology, it helps me know myself in a new way.) No, the difference is in the subject of the sentence…is it “I” broke my leg” or “My leg” broke? The difference matters to me, for I did not choose to break my fibula. It just happened.

My bone – a wonderful bone that has been a part of my walking, swimming and especially dancing – is broken. This one bone? I’ve taken it for granted, like every other bone in my body…every other cell, muscle, organ, squirting hormone and chemical interaction. I tend to take my life for granted as a rule, except for moments of grace.

Nothing can be taken for granted in this new way of being. As any of you who have experienced physical challenges know, every step (pun intended) of daily life must be rethought. “OK, I can move to that chair if I put my hands here…and push…but what about my foot, is there room to pivot?” Using the toilet? This requires balancing on one leg while pulling pants off and on with a wobbly four-legged walker between me and the hard ceramic tile floor. Sometimes fear appears, especially from my 65 year old, overweight and out-of-shape perspective. One sleepy night, my fear was realized …I fell. Down I went, crashing into the bathroom door before I hit the cold tile. I was OK… and clearly reminded how vulnerable I really am. In these moments, memories of my mother’s paralyzed legs return. When I was 2, her 27 year old body was smashed and changed forever in a car accident.

I look at my leg, it looks different compared to it’s stronger partner. I am grateful it will heal, but I cautiously wonder when I’ll be able to dance again. I don’t know when that day will be, so I choose to live inside of “this” day. The dials of my active, independent, extroverted lifestyle have been turned way down. Here, where I live, I am grateful for a ride to the doctor’s, a morning free from discomfort so I can write, or a neighbor coming over to share a cup of tea. Here, I embrace my quiet, dependent, introverted self and have come to love her. When I feel brave, I wonder how my mother must have felt when she lost freedom of movement forever… and I grieve for her. On this day, as I breathe in golden autumn coolness, I experience gentleness within myself and know this as a moment of grace.

Rumi says, “Don’t worry thats your life is turning upside down. How do you know the side you are used to is better than the one to come?” Wise words, it seems to me, but a lot easier to accept when everything is right-side up! Living in an upside down world does not just invite change, it demands it. With a promise of new life, the upside down world invites humble acceptance of “what is.” The path before me is uncertain but I carry hope, and a few notes of dance music, in my heart. Today, surrounded by Love, I say yes. That’s the only step I can take.

Thinking of each of you with a grateful heart,

Lisa