What is Your Major Malfunction?

I receive a daily reflection from the Enneagram Institute. 

Briefly, the enneagram is a personality test. It helps describe the pattern of how we interpret the world and manage our emotions. There are nine distinct personality types. Of course, as with all personality systems, we have a little bit of each in us, but one tends to dominate. 

I am a 7 on the Enneagram, The Joyful or Enthusiast Personality. 

From the Enneagram Institute website:

Sevens are extroverted, optimistic, versatile, and spontaneous. Playful, high-spirited, and practical, they can also misapply their many talents, becoming over-extended, scattered, and undisciplined. They constantly seek new and exciting experiences, but can become distracted and exhausted by staying on the go. They typically have problems with impatience and impulsiveness (self-seeking and self-centered, for sure). At their Best: they focus their talents on worthwhile goals, becoming appreciative, joyous, and satisfied.

Our basic fear: of being deprived and in pain

This is me, 1000000% me. I am that person who wants to be at every function, wants to go to every coffee date, wants to go on every float trip, every Fourth of July celebration, I have broken up with people because I might miss out on the next person who was interested in me (not now, but definitely in my twenties), I pack my days into task after task...

It makes sense that I would convince myself that I can work two jobs, be a mom, do karaoke every other week, and be in a play! 

What is your major malfunction? What did all that do? It sent me straight to the hospital.

Today's teaching from the Enneagram Institute slapped me across the face:

Teaching:

It is an extremely common tendency to flee from what we are actually facing into our imagination, romanticizing or dramatizing our situation, justifying ourselves, or even escaping into “spirituality”. Staying with our real experience of ourselves and our situation will teach us exactly what we need to know for growth. (The Wisdom of the Enneagram, 346)

I am a master of all those things, especially when I feel like I'm missing out on something. I devolve into this fantasy world where I am capable of all things, but I am not God. I am not limitless; I have a limit, and I have reached it! I had a headache for seven days, and yesterday I went to the ER. I thought perhaps there was more because I started shaking and my left eye was fluttering. They did all the tests, even a CT scan. Diagnosis: headache. I can't wait for the bill. Yay!

But here's the problem... as I sat in the dark room in the ER, my inner critic went to work, "you are so lazy, why do you feel you need this attention?" 

Seriously? I overworked and overwhelmed myself to the point of exhaustion, and my alcoholic brain still wants to convince me I am worthless, and if I want to be worthy, I need to do more??? It's like I'm addicted to my toxic inner critic. 

The second part of the line from the quote above is helpful today:

Staying with our real experience of ourselves and our situation will teach us exactly what we need to know for growth.

So here’s what's up: I can't pretend I can handle it all anymore. No more spinning stories to make the pain look like something noble or exciting. I’ve run myself into the ground trying to outrun the discomfort of rest (crazy, I know). The truth caught up to me in the form of a hospital bed and a pounding headache that wouldn’t quit. I had to see the situation for what it was.

Growth doesn’t come from doing more, loving someone new, or pushing through as if nothing’s wrong. It comes from staying put, right in the mess, in the pain, in the truth. I must stop avoiding the fact that I have limitations. That’s where the healing begins.

Want to know what your enneagram number is? Take the test here. It does cost money, but it's a good one. 

. . .a constant state of deconstruction. . .

I only publicly post about 40% of my writing because the majority of the time I'm processing... my blog is kinda like a journal. I prefer to publish my spiritual musings, not because I think I'm right (although I mostly think I am 🤪), but because I know there are people out there like me who learn much from others' experiences. Some of those experiences land in the brain dump for me to think about later... 

I'm generally in a constant state of deconstructing all the things I thought were ever true about myself and life, and your insights are important to my spiritual walk.  

Lately, I've been struggling with my belief. Let me be clear, I still believe in God and I love Jesus, but I've come to the conclusion that I have kept the loving inclusive God I know, in a box...on a shelf. I tend to bring God out when I want something, or when she doesn't give me what I want so I can scream at her. 

Over the past almost 8 months, though, I've taken God off the shelf almost every day. I've poked holes in the box to let God out, as though a box can contain God! Please. These days I keep the lid of the box open so as not to contain the expansive nature of God. I don't have the right to keep God in a box anyway, and who knows what God plans to send my way? Might as well live in the beauty of the unknowing. 

I began my spiritual journey 17 years ago in the desert in Egypt. I have been a regular member of a Christian community since that time. It pains me to say that it has been rare that I have encountered the Holy within the walls of a church. I did all the things one does. I learned to make prayer a regular part of my day, attended worship and small groups, began giving to the ministries, serving regularly in a variety of capacities, and telling people about my church. Like many Christians I have confused God with the church. The church is important, but we are not meant to worship it. It is made of fallible humans just like me, but we can't help ourselves. I believe this is the foundation of why members of congregations struggle to actually connect with God.

In addition, I believe many American churches mistake "success" with growing churches. I have been a part of large and small congregations - and I can tell you, numbers do not always equal followers of Jesus. More often than not the majority of the membership worship their church. As a pastor, YES, a pastor, it grieves me to no end that I have had to find God outside the walls of the institutional church.

This past winter, I was in a winter of despair, or as Shakespeare said through Richard III, a winter of discontent. I found myself in a loop of despair, crying to God, to the Universe, to whoever, to save me. I got on my knees, sat in prayer at the foot of the cross, sat with Buddhists in meditation, read the Bhagavad Gita, listened to subliminal meditations, had my cards read (what a trip), dove into my human design, went to two spiritual healers, and had a reiki session. I pleaded with God to untether me from my depression and the obsession over things I cannot control. I was looking so hard for God, but I had to let go of the idea that I could logically achieve spirituality.

There were times when I was at peace; the moments when I let go and gave it all to God. The ego of course, is unrelenting and would plunge me back into despair over and over, winning over God, placing God back in the box. The struggle led me to near acts of desperation. There were times when I didn't think I could go on because the path I was following all of a sudden had intersections and alleys that needed discovering. Afraid of the unknown, terrified of cutting the cord to the life I was leaving, I found myself devolving on more than one occasion into a crumpled mess and shell of a human being. I'm surprised I still have a steering wheel for all the times I lashed my anger upon it. 

I read this quote today: "Truly transforming spiritual experiences are nearly always founded on calamity and collapse.” Bill W (co-founder of AA)

Ugh, how awful, but I believe it! That's what happened in September. I collapsed. I tried to distract myself by clinging to a new partner to get me through it (the easier, softer way). I had to break the pattern; I couldn't be dependent upon a partner to hold me up anymore. So we ended things amicably in November. We admit we were both distracting ourselves with each other.  

I finally let myself sink to the bottom of an abyss that seemed unending. I unclenched my fists from this invisible ledge I was clinging to so tightly. I let myself descend into the dark night of my soul, but all the while pushing through, doing the things I needed to do. I let myself feel pain and anguish. I discovered that the God box is deep... it likely has no bottom. 

I thought I would never surface, but in the depths of that darkness I began to see light, God's light. God was, and is still, with me. I began to wake up. 

I still want to take back control all the time, though. I guess that's just me being human. The struggle to free my will to align with God's is tenacious. I don't want to collapse again, and I feel it edging in sometimes. It's scary, but I know God is with me and I loosen my grip. I know God will be with me. I'll learn whatever I need to learn, and I will surface again, more full and more alive. It's the promises being fulfilled. 

Also, I'm pretty sure all the glitter and sparkle I wore helped! You cannot underestimate the power of sparkle!✨

Adventures in Synchronicity: With God holding my hand

I fully believe God is always sending us signs, nudging us toward the path we’re meant to walk. They don’t always make sense, and you don't always see them right away. They’re not logical. You can’t explain them with science. But they show up anyway. And when they do, you either shrug them off… which is what I think we are most wired to do (because spiritual matters are looked down on in our society)... or you start paying attention.

German Psychologist Carl Jung came up with the word synchronicity in 1930. Basically, when two things happen that don’t seem connected happen, and they hit deep and feel meaningful... that's synchronicity.* You’ve probably heard people talk about “signs” or certain numbers showing up—like 11:11. Most of the time, it’s just coincidence. But once in a while, something bigger is at work... 

1111 can be synchronistic if it is attached to something meaningful. For example, you and a loved one text each other when you see the number 1111 to be cute. Then at some time in the near future you get news that your friend died at 11:11 in a car accident. That's extreme, but the two incidents are unrelated and they have deep meaning. Here's a site that explains one of Jung's experiences.

I started paying attention last July. 

I was getting back in touch with my spiritual side and felt a strong urge to give someone a copy of The Alchemist. Never done that before, but I didn’t question it. I went to the bookstore down the street, bought a copy, and gave it to my friend. For some reason, I just followed the nudge.

Then in September, I crashed. Depression hit. My therapist told me to start my 12 steps over—and this time, actually do them. She was right. I’d been going through the motions. So I recommitted. Meetings, therapy, service work, and spiritual retreats. Somewhere in all of that, The Alchemist came back around, and I started rereading it.

That’s when things got weird—in a good way. Synchronicities started popping up everywhere. Signs. Omens. Whatever you want to call them. And every time, I felt more and more like God was saying, keep going, you're on the right path.

I looked up the book and found out that The Alchemist was inspired by the Camino de Santiago—a spiritual pilgrimage in Spain. Looking back, I see the nudges:

• In September, I went on a retreat called Cursillo, a retreat based off the actual Camino.
• I began rereading the History of Christianity - the last paragraph of the first chapter was about the Camino. 

• 

  Postcard from my swag bag

  In December, I cleaned out my retreat bag (finally), and one of the swag items was a postcard from Santiago de Compostela.
• That week, Paulo Coelho released a new book tied to The Alchemist. 
• Just this week, a young man I know who lives where I work was reading it.  
• The Prophet—another important book in my life—showed up on a free shelf with a bookmark on a chapter about love.
• I opened up Instagram this morning and the first photo was from Paulo Coelho promoting a book called The Supreme Gift, which is a book about loving abundantly,

That’s not coincidence. That’s God. It's all synchronicity. 

God has been trying to get my attention.

We live in the physical world, but there’s a spiritual one moving right alongside it. Sometimes they touch.  God tends to whisper instead of shout. But the signs are there. It’s not about figuring everything out. It’s about letting ourselves be present and open enough to notice when the Lord is leading us—and then having the courage to follow.

I don’t need other people to validate what I know now. My spirit knows. God is doing something in me. I’m just trying to stay open and follow where God's leading. I'm going on Camino in October... it keeps popping up, so I know it's worth the risk. I'm worth the risk.

*Jung, Carl (1973) [1960]. Synchronicity: An Acausal Connecting Principle. Bolligen Series. Vol. 8. Translated by R. F. C. Hull. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press.

Adventures in Synchronicity: Seeing the Signs

There are three entries I have decided not to share that lead up to this one. They are too raw.  The last entry you may have read ended with, and then I met him. This next portion takes place 13 years after that. 

On December 24, 2022, our relationship ended the way it began, over copious amounts of alcohol. Instead of a passionate romantic flurry, it ended in tumult, with him begging me to come back. It was over; I had some things to work on in my life. I hadn't made any next steps in our relationship for two years; I was too scared. 

On Tuesday, January 3, 2023 I hadn't had a drink in 4 days and made my way to my first meeting during my lunch break. I looked around for signs and didn't see one, so I figured the meeting had been cancelled. Nervous. Instead of seeking assistance, I left. As I walked to my car, my heart pounded in my chest. The voice in my head, "you've gone four days, you can do this. You don't need this." 

The next day, during my lunch break, I decided to go back. The room was packed. I raised my hand. 

On January 4, I recommenced the spiritual journey I had embarked on almost 15 years prior in the Sahara Desert, in Egypt. 

I didn't know it at the time, of course. I entered the room full of arrogance. 

I knew I was smarter than every person in that room. I had two goals for getting sober: 1. to "be healthy" (read, lose weight) and 2. to be better at my job. During those first shares, no one else mentioned their goals - they told their stories of how bad their disease had become. I inwardly laughed that I wasn't as bad off; I was already ahead of the game. If I was going to win it, then I needed to get moving... Sponsor, steps 1, 2, 3 check, check, check.  

Then the fourth step... I moseyed. It didn't matter, though. In my head I had the solution to my alcoholism, a distraction. My new friend; charming, engaging, funny. The alcohol that usually numbed my feelings was replaced with someone to distract me from the emotions I didn't want to face. Honestly, at that time I wasn't even aware that I had been repressing my emotions for so long. 

On July 4, our friendship took a turn. I liked him, as in like liked, my friend.  Between us existed a strange bond that I couldn't figure out. Something spiritual was happening, and I couldn't put my finger on it. 

The signs began showing up the next day. Synchronicities. Nudges. Echoes of something deeper.

I am by nature an extrovert, I love people, I love being around people... but I'm also a quiet person. I'm not shy, my vocal chords emit a soft voice. It's difficult to insert myself in a group of loud extroverts I don't know. 

The next day, I shared with my group that I had gone to a party with my friend and hung out with people I didn't know. I admitted I should not have gone because I was uncomfortable speaking to people I didn't know without my security blanket, alcohol. I was transported back to 16-year-old me, who was awkward and felt like an outsider everywhere. I was safe. I wasn’t scared, just... misplaced. I didn't want to be her again—the girl who needed alcohol to feel like she belonged.

I still went to meetings, but my step work slowed and finally stopped. I stopped seeing my therapist. I had it under control; everything was going great! I could handle this friendship and not take it further than where we were. 

For the first time in years my spirituality was manifesting again.  

This time, I had a willing companion, not just random people who stumble across my blog (I am grateful for all my readers, just fyi). We opened our hearts. The energy of the Spirit moved between us, gently and powerfully. Letting God in after years of disconnection is irresistible. The Spirit floods in—and it needs somewhere to go.

But when we’re not ready to be fully transformed, ego steps in to protect us. We misread the flood as a threat. And rather than surrender, we fall back on old defenses. For me, that looked like attachment. Like clinging. Like spiritual codependency disguised as divine connection.

Our egos whisper that regression is safer than growth. And we believe them.

We begin to idolize the person in front of us, not realizing the gift was never about them—it was always about God. But we get stuck. The moment stops evolving. The sacred spiral halts.

It's no coincidence I stopped doing the work. God needed me to fall into the depths of what appeared to be a bottomless abyss. I believe God allows us all to make our own decisions. The next right thing is always available to us, but sometimes, we decide not to heed the signs.

God gave me a sign, the synchronicity, the omen. I verbalized it, "I feel like I'm at a high school party." 

I was there again, at the precipice of what led me down the path of substance dependency, the path of hopelessness and powerlessness. This time I chose the path that led me to the depths of darkness and self-discovery but this time with only God holding my hand. 

We interrupt your regularly scheduled blog-cast for some Alan Watts, Richard Rohr & Sacred Worth

This one isn't about the synchronicity. I have three different posts I'm working on, some won't be shared, and I'm trying to figure out how to share them and protect people at the same time. While I don't say names here, somebody might read it and know what I'm talking about. Today, I have three things swirling in my head and I need to get them out. 

A few months ago I ran across this quote on Instagram from Alan Watts, 

"Irrevocable commitment to any religion is not only intellectual suicide; it is positive unfaith because it closes the mind to any new vision of the world. Faith is, above all, openness - an act of trust in the unknown." Alan Watts

Something told me to save this quote. Perhaps it was an omen from the Universe that it would come in handy for such a time as this.

Holding on too tightly to our doctrines and dogmas can stagnate our growth, spiritually, and really emotionally and physically. 

In 2019 my denomination gathered for a special general conference to discuss whether or not we should fully include members of the LGBTQia community into the full ministry of our churches.

Here's the full verbiage:

We affirm that all persons are individuals of sacred worth, created in the image of God. All persons need the ministry of the Church in their struggles for human fulfillment, as well as the spiritual and emotional care of a fellowship that enables reconciling relationships with God, with others, and with self. The United Methodist Church does not condone the practice of homosexuality and considers this practice incompatible with Christian teaching.

So, in one sentence it says, ALL have sacred worth, but in the next... except for "practicing" homosexuals. This insinuates that sexuality is a choice. I've known my fair share of people in the community and while I'm not a scientist, I think it's safe to say it's not a choice. 

Those few days of debate in St. Louis were awful. I tuned into Twitter and poured over every publication that came out of it. I had what I considered "affectedness" disorder. I worked myself into a tizzy over things I could not control. I became an anxious presence; I cried for my sisters and brothers who were once again told they didn't belong. My way of coping was at my go-to bar at noon during those days. I was carrying the weight of the nations on my shoulders. The burden of the pain weighed heavy on me. Instead of doing what I could do in my context, I complained and spread general negativity and anxiousness. 

The "book" says it like this,"...we made our own misery. God didn't do it." Amid my disease I believed I was obligated to take on this misery and I must be affected. Some might argue, but if you didn't do all those things, nobody would know you care. I can care and advocate without making myself and everyone around me miserable. The book continues, "avoid then the deliberate manufacture of misery, but if trouble comes, cheerfully capitalize it as an opportunity to demonstrate God's omnipotence."

Now that my brain is no longer imprisoned in a fog I can see that I can make a bigger difference by doing what I can do in my context. I can follow the rule of love and that's what I chose to do this time. I am in groups with people who also suffer from "affectedness," who called out other members of the group for not being affected. This time...I removed myself from the conversation and focused on what I can do right now, in my place in the world, to share love. 

The disease of affectedness is intellectual suicide. I could not see past my faith's rule book to see the greater movement of God in the world. My eyes were closed to what was possible and therefore my actions unfaithful. We have a tendency to let the power of the institution blind us from the possibilities God provides us. We leave our spirituality up to entities that "know better." We doubt our spiritual intuition and are afraid to step into a place of unknowing because it's frightening. 

Father Richard Rohr, in what I consider one of his most powerful meditations, says this, 

Much of organized religion, without meaning to, has actually discouraged us from taking the mystical path by telling us almost exclusively to trust outer authority, Scripture, various kinds of experts, or tradition (what I call the “containers”), instead of telling us the value and importance of inner experience itself (which is the “content”). In fact, most of us were strongly warned against ever trusting ourselves. Roman Catholics were told to trust the church hierarchy implicitly, while mainline Protestants were often warned that inner experience was dangerous, unscriptural, or even unnecessary.

Both were ways of discouraging actual experience of God and often created passive (and passive aggressive) people and, more sadly, a lot of people who concluded there was no God to be experienced. We were taught to mistrust our own souls—and thus the Holy Spirit!

We are taught to mistrust our souls - wow! That is a powerful statement. And if we mistrust our souls, then we invariably mistrust God. And why? Because what Watts says, faith in trusting is something we cannot see. It's trusting in the unknown. 

These past two weeks I'd like to think I have trusted in God. I didn't let my past experience fog my thinking. I didn't let my own prejudices and fears stop me from doing my work, the work that probably impacts people more than it does when I'm sitting at a bar fretting over things I cannot control. I think a lot of this comes from my own trust that God is going to provide as I step out into the unknown; into the new job I start in a few weeks. 

The unknown, trusting in God, is very frightening, but if we don't navigate through it, what happens? We remain stuck, anchored to fears of the past and fixed to the uncertainty of the future, which in turn creates misery. 

Misery keeps us stunted, never allowing us to move forward into the present.

Adventures in Synchronicity: Then I Met Him

I remember the first time I met him. I was on a date with one of his friends, who later became his roomate. I thought nothing of him; he was just some guy. A year later the guy I was on a date with was just a friend and we decided to meet up at a Halloween party. This other guy loves to have many ladies around him while he's trying to get with a girl, kinda like a wingman but a wingwoman. He had also invited the guy he introduced me to the year before. So, my friend asked him to talk to me while he went to see about a girl. Super nice of him, right?

We talked for a very long time. Neither of us was really enjoying the party which was a bummer because I had the BEST costumer ever; Lady Gaga. I decided to leave and he asked for a ride to his car which for some reason was on the other side of town. I dropped him off and we did not exchange phone numbers. Again, I wasn't really into him, so I didn't think much of it. A few days later I received a message from him at my work email. I had told him where I worked and apparently he had come to the place looking for me, but I had already gone home that day. I was shocked and giddy about the work he put into getting a hold of me. So cute. We exchanged emails a few times, but nothing came of it. No big deal; I wasn't invested. 

A year later I was on Facebook, when I saw an update "Friend is now friends with Friend." There he was; I immediately sent him a friend request and sent a message, "what happened to you?" He had gotten back together with a girlfriend right after meeting me and thought he should try to work on that and didn't want to get side-tracked. By that time I was dating someone else and I was like, well we can be friends. And for a few months we were. I wasn't super into the other guy I was dating; he was just hotter than the sunshine so I kept him around for appearances. We had our first date on Christmas Eve at Side Pockets; it was the only place open. Since it was Christmas Eve, we gifted ourselves two pitchers of beer. I was still seeing the other guy which I know is a terrible thing to do, but I didn't feel it was the best idea to break up with him around the holidays. Seriously how cold could I be? Cold enough to cheat, just not cold enough to break up around Christmas... he didn’t deserve that, more importantly he deserve to be cheated on.  The guilt of it was heavy on me and I ended things on New Year's Eve. Worst person award goes to me! 

Something told me this new guy was different, as in he would be an ideal candidate for marriage. I was 32, all my friends were married, and I was running out of people to hang out with. I started to worry that I'd never find anyone. I instinctively knew this guy would marry me. I mean, he told me within a week that he loved me and wanted me to have his children. This was it; I introduced him to my friends, and they approved. 

I would love to think I was smitten, but the fact is that I approached this relationship matter-of-factly. I was afraid to be left behind, and a life of singlehood was terrifying to think about. I needed to find someone to grow old with; who would never leave me. This was the guy.

My therapist asked me a few months ago how many men I had been in love with. Only three, and I then named them. She was astonished that he wasn't on the list. I loved him, but I was never in love with him. I convinced myself that I was in love with him. He is a good person, but our relationship was held together with alcohol. 

I spent 9 years with this man. We got engaged after 9 months. We were married for eleven years, and we were separated for three of those years. We have a child together. After I left, I wanted to try to make it work, but I couldn't. I was suffocating and needed out. I wanted to feel again; I wanted to really love someone, and I knew this wasn't the one God intended for me if I was going to pursue my personal legend of finding love. 

It took me almost those three years of separation to finally file for divorce. And I did so because, well, I wanted to be with another man. 

Again, always, always, always... I need a fallback. How unhealthy is that?

Adventures in Synchronicity: Have you ever read The Alchemist?

I don't really know when I first read The Alchemist. One of my roommates in Cairo may have given me the book. I may have read it while recovering from heat stroke in Tel Aviv, or I may have read it in Paris later that summer, or the next year when I thought I needed to move to France. The most likely scenario is that I snatched my sister's copy while I was visiting my family in Fort Lauderdale. If I recall correctly, there was a bottle of wine and a hangover on the flight home in the story. I know I didn't read it on the airplane because not only was I hungover, I was battling allergies; a lovely combination.

All I am really certain of is that it was around that time I read it for the first time.

The Alchemist is Brazilian author Paulo Coelho's first novel, and largely agreed upon by critics to be his masterpiece. It swirls together whimsy with wisdom to tell the story of a shepherd boy, Santiago, from the hills of Andalusia, in Spain. Dreaming in an abandoned church, Santiago has a vision that he must travel to Egypt to find his treasure - his personal legend. The next morning he sets off on a mystical journey propelled by omens (or signs) through a variety of foreign lands and adventures to uncover the power of intuition and listening to one's heart so as to understand the language of the universe, which is love.

I love this story so much that I often forget it is a work of fiction.

This line should be the most famous (it's not even in the top 5, whatever), "when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”

Reading that line knocked me off my feet, metaphorically. We all have a personal legend, a treasure we are to seek out... I have spent the last 17 years trying to figure out what I've been seeking. 

I finally figured it out a few months ago, my treasure is love. The quote above reads like this for me, "you want love, and all the universe will conspire to help you achieve it."

My greatest desire has always been "to be loved;" to find my great love story, to share a passionate love with my soulmate. After my breakup that led me to Egypt wanting to solve the worlds problems, I had convinced myself that I needed to be what I thought was stoic at the time, avoiding emotions. That didn't really work for me, though, and after a few years, I was back to pouring myself into others to earn love. Changing myself to gain love. Succeeding in professional endeavors to win love. 

My personal legend has been a quest for love. I have found it, but have never really known how to receive it or really, healthily give it or even healthily share it with another. I have held it tenderly in my hand for fear it would and shatter into a million tiny pieces, and it did anyway. I have been suffocated by love. I have devalued love. I have discarded love over a misunderstanding. I have mistaken physical longing for love. I have squandered love. I have turned from love, fearing that I'd miss out on the love another wanted to give me. I have found myself on my knees begging to be loved. 

The quest has almost always ended in tumultuous heartbreak for me or the other person, mostly me. 

The last time I succumbed to love, I gave up the search because I was exhausted. I didn't think my heart could take any of the more pain love seemed to always bring. Since then I have approached every situation and relationship practically, matter-of-factly. No emotions, no feelings, just business. Climbing out of that last pit of despair, I vowed to never let it happen again. If I was going to be in a relationship it was only going to be for companionship. Open my heart again? Never.

Curled in a ball of agonizing misery, crying out to God to help me, to save me, is a place I never wanted to find myself again. If life could not be lived with full on love, giving up the search for my treasure was the most natural course of action. I built walls to protect my heart, for it could no longer take the pain. I numbed every emotion away with alcohol until I was the sturdy, unaffected, successful, intelligent person who could take anything and not care. I chose to start ignoring the omens because I had obviously misinterpreted them along the way. And I was tired, so tired of trying... and then I met him.

Neon Giza

Some Sundays I meditate with a group of delightful people. We circle up, read a devotion, meditate for 12-15 minutes, read the devotion again, and share our thoughts if we so chose. I always look forward to joining this time of relaxation and reflection when I can. 

A few week's ago, the flow of group was slightly different. Prior to our time of meditation, our leader gave us one instruction, "think of a mountaintop and focus on that." There were some other things said, but my ego obsessed brain could only think, I have tried to connect with God on mountains and failed. In fact, I found God in the desert, so this was a stretch for me. Furthermore, when I meditate I place myself kayaking a river cutting through tree-lined banks, the sun shining ahead of me my focus. When something distracts me, I toss it into the water. If it floats back I hold on to it for later.

One would rightfully think that the magnitude of a mountain overlooking the vastness of the world below would do the trick too. For me, though, seeing the winding roads that deliver you to the summit (of course not all can be driven up) is more resplendent. But alright, meditation is not all about me, I can try new things, so to the mountain I will go! 

I wasn't expecting to find myself in front of the Great Pyramids of Giza, mountains in their own right. Made by human hands (or are they???), but mountains, none the less.

As my eyes closed to search for a mountain I found myself transported 17 years ago to the outskirts of Cairo, walking across the packed sand up to one of the great pyramids. As I retraced my steps, my mind marveled at the magnificence of these structures. The foundation stones came up to my shoulder, and in my wonder and amazement, I swung my arm up over the ledge and leaned up against this marvel. As I did so, I looked up into the blue sky, shading my eyes to the sun rays that bathed the peak. I was there again, in that moment. Then, as if it never happened, it was over.

Emptiness surrounded me; darkness overcame me. There was no fear, just peace. Where was I? 

As I looked around, I began to see I was in the pyramid. The pyramids are not hollow, but for some reason this one was. The edges of each corner pulsated in tandem in an upward motion, as though pumped by a neon blue heart. And there, where the capstone should have been, was the most brilliant white light. I stood in this space, mesmerized, and the words escaped my lips, "the heart of the divine."

Perplexed by the calm, yet stunned by the splendor, confused in this unknown dimension, I returned to consciousness..."am I even still in the room?" My eyes flung open. Indeed, I was in the room; my friends still in their meditative stance. In dismay of my impatience that tore me from this holy moment, I rushed back, trying to find it again. Trying to control the moment... but it was gone. 

A few minutes later, the bell rang, and the reflections began. When it was my turn to share, I told them what I saw, what I felt, and how I fled back to the room. Then it became clear: even though I couldn't get back, I was still in the presence of the holy. While the pulsing blue edges were beautiful, I knew instinctively they represented the hearts of those in the room... Connected in this space and time, our hearts beating together as one to reach the heart of the divine. Our minds and our energy combined to reach this collective consciousness. And it was glorious. 

-----

Later that night, I almost convinced myself that because I was exhausted, perhaps I had found myself in the liminal space where consciousness and dreams meet. Isn't that just so human of me, to discredit an experience that can only be described as mystical, as Holy? I've chosen to not rationalize it because I don't really understand what happened. What I know is I felt peace, and isn't that what God promises?

4/13/2024 - today I caught up on my Richard Rohr devotions and Monday's devotion was about our tendency to be cynical when it comes to the spiritual. You can read guest writer James Finley's reflection HERE.

Adventures in Synchronicty: What it was Like

When I was 25 I met a beautiful man; I loved him. I had never been in love. I know now it wasn't love. It was my need for male validation manifesting. How fortunate I was to have found a gorgeous, intelligent (drug addicted) man, who loved me for me. I'm not sure when it happened, but by the time our year long romance was over, I was a nothing. I was a husk, the remnant of someone who once lived, someone who knew how to thrive. 

Our breakup almost broke me; it likely would have if not for my family and supportive friends. 

Throughout my teenage years, I knew I was depressed. I tried to voice it, but my parents always wanted to know why, but I didn't know why. It wasn't their fault; they didn't have the tools to help me navigate what was going on. Unchecked and eventually ignored, underneath the surface of my effervescence I was slowly devolving into despair. It is shocking, I know, that it was unearthed nearly 10 years after I first recognized something was off. 

I spent much time after the break up cycling through psychiatrists and therapists. I had to move to Florida for 6 months to come out from underneath the weight of feeling unloved, unworthy. What brought me out of it was Cymbalta, Clonopin, and IPAs. I wasn't ready to handle or even try to dig deep into my emotions to process them. Drowning them in prescription drugs and alcohol was the only way. It was in this emotionless state that my rational brain said, the only way anyone will ever love me is if I'm intelligent. 

During that year of what I now recognize as infatuation I became a yielding mask of the intelligent person I didn't let myself know. I let this man become me. Little by little I lost myself in him. This was not something he did, it was something I did to satisfy my ego, to make myself feel whole. The resentments have long vanished, but they directed the course of my life and my quest to prove that I am intelligent and worthy of love. 

When I returned from Florida, I re-enrolled in school and decided to get the degree I always wanted: History. One of the requirements for the degree program is a class in non-western world history. 9/11 had just happened four years earlier and I knew nothing about the Middle East or Islam, so I took a Modern Middle Eastern history course. It was confusing, but I figured out that the crux of the problem was this disagreement between Judaism, Islam and Christianity. The next semester I enrolled in another Middle Eastern History course, Intro to Ancient Judaism and Arabic. During the course of that semester I had the brilliant idea that I was going to learn as much as I can so I could work for the United Nations and change the world. Who wouldn't love someone that accomplished? (eyes rolling yet?)

The only way to really learn a language, though, is to immerse oneself where the language is spoken. So off I went to Egypt for two months. 

A month in, sitting in a small tea shop, a book on a shelf caught my eye: The Prophet by Khalil Gibran. 

I had seen the face on the cover a few months earlier when I read one of the poems at my aunt's funeral. I didn't know that it had been translated from Arabic. I immediately bought it. It was a sign that I was meant to be in Egypt and that I was on a path of discovery and wholeness. As I related this to the girls I was with, one of them asked, have you read The Alchemist?

Twin Flames or Soul Bonding

If you found my blog via FB, please do not share it with anyone else... I keep some people from seeing my thoughts and this blog has no identifying markers. 

Netflix has a docuseries streaming right now, Escaping Twin Flames. The description intrigued me, 

A couple built a spiritual business to help people find true love. Now, former followers are sharing their disturbing practices in this docuseries.

Put the word spiritual in anything and I'm bound to read or watch it!

I had never heard of this concept twin flames, and after watching, I did a deep dive. So much so I get quora emails telling me how to identify my twin flame. If twin flames are a thing, I think I am part of a quadruplet flame, as there have been 3 gentlemen in my life who have left me feeling the way these people say twin flames feel after they go into a time of "separation." If you want to know more about what a twin flame is, google it. It's all over the interwebz.

The general definition, though, is: "one soul in two bodies."   

As a Christian in the Wesleyan tradition, I believe the mind, body, and soul ARE one and exist in the same place in time and space. They are intricately bound together; they cannot be pulled from each other. Therefore, it is difficult for me to believe this concept. Twin flame experts will tell you that we have one singular nature; the soul. Plain and simple we are our souls. However, they also believe we have a body and a mind and that these two parts of ourselves live in duality and the soul lives in oneness. The soul, therefore, is consciousness that surpasses time and space. That means the soul can reincarnate at any time in any body, and sometimes it does so on the same timeline because, thank you, Einstein, time is relative.

So, my working definition of twin flames: one soul that has reincarnated in two different bodies because time is an illusion. 

Seriously, trying to understand different ideas of spirituality can be mind-warping. But hey, it's all relative, right?

Here's what I think really happens: I think souls, our higher selves, as some may call them, can bond. And I think it's more than the idea of a soul mate. 

The Postal Service says it best, I think, in their song Such Great Heights, (I'm so excited to see them in May, just btw)

I am thinking it's a sign

That the freckles in our eyes

Are mirror images

And when we kiss they're perfectly aligned

And I have to speculate

That God HERself did make

Us into corresponding shapes

Like puzzle pieces from the clay

Now, there are lots of sites out there that talk about soul mates, soul ties, soul partnerships, soul whatever, but not soul bonding.

A soul bond is emotional. It is physical. It is intellectual. It is a strong familiarity, a knowing, or a deep level of understanding. It is being able to see the other's soul in one's eyes and see your soul reflected back. You don't need to pull information from that person because you instinctively know the pain or the joy, the love or the hate, the confusion or the certainty. There's a mirroring in your life experiences and emotions (even if you reject your emotions) that draws you in. 

Your thoughts align and you tend to say or think the same things at the same time. When you are apart you may have a sense that you are in that person's presence. When you meet, there is an instantaneous feeling of love, but not always romantic love. It is a love that binds you together in some astral plane, and you have no control over it. It just is. You can try to deny it, or push it away, but it's there. You can try to break the bond, but it's nearly impossible. 

A soul bond can be frightening because for some reason it has a hold on you that you cannot explain.

Twin flames posit that the soul is in two bodies. That to me speaks of brokenness and the need for another to make you whole. A soul bond, on the other hand, is not that. A soul bond posits that you, in your fullness, come to a meeting of another whole person with a mirroring soul. The soul bond can happen, though, even in our brokenness - and I think that's when it can become dangerous. Two people in their brokenness, with such an intense soul bond, can deeply harm each other. Not always willingly, of course, just because it's so intense - and the unknowing of why it has happened, or how to handle it, becomes too much for the mind to grapple.

I hope, if you ever find that person who your mind, body, and soul bonds to, happens when you are ready for it. 

Those are my thoughts - who knows, I may be completely delusional... but aren't we all from time to time? 

Spiritual Manipulation: 30,000 feet

There has been much written about spiritual manipulation within spiritual institutions. Unfortunately, there isn't much written about it in interpersonal relations.

First and foremost, there are many, many, many types of manipulation tactics people resort to in all kinds of relationships; work, friendship, romantic, parental, family, etc.

I'm not a psychologist; I don't pretend to be a psychologist, but I'm pretty certain manipulation is a pscyhological coping skill. More specifically it is an ego-driven coping skill; meaning it works to satisfy the needs and wants, primarily the wants, of the ego.

You can't be a person without an ego. The ego is important to help us seek out our most basic survival needs: food, water, air, shelter, and now, sleep is considered a basic need. When we do not receive these basic needs, our egos will stop at nothing to seek them out, and if needed, turns to manipulation tactics. For example, a baby does not have words to satisfy the basic instinct of hunger, so the ego uses crying to satisfy the need. It takes the instinct and finds a real world solution to satisfy it. This is a manipulation tactic aimed at the caregiver to act and provide. Therefore manipulation in and of itself is NOT a bad thing.

So, when does manipulation "turn bad?" My opinion is that it does so when the ego mistakes wants for needs. The mind perceives something it wants, but doesn't necessarily need. The ego says, "I want that, I'm going to get it, and I'm going to use whatever tactic I can to do so."

Honestly, I do not think those who use manipulation to get what they want do it on purpose. My hope, and currently my belief, is that manipulation is simply a gross adaptation of coping skills used by the unaware person to get what they want. If they aren't, then I have some serious questions about the state of humanity. 

Some tactics used to get what one wants are: Love bombing, gaslighting, projection, withholding, lying, blaming, changing subjects... a simple google search will bring up more if you want.

All of these tactics can be used to spiritually manipulate in the context of relationships as well.

Here are a few ways I believe we spiritually manipulate in relationships (I'm using we because I think we all do these things from time to time - I know I have):

• The manipulator draws another person, who they don't know all that well, into a deep spiritual connection. The manipulator is likely struggling with spiritual harm and trying to cope. When we have a deep spiritual lack and see that another has it, we want it too, so we "fake it" (or maybe a better way to say this is that we convince ourselves that we are spiritually mature) and create a connection with the one we believe has a stronger spirituality. 

• We will prop up our small bit of spiritual knowledge and seek another person out to justify our beliefs. The manipulatior's spirituality is solely knowledge-based. There is nothing wrong with this; spiritual seeking is wonderful and commendable. However, the manipulator will present with a high level of knowledge, and does not present that knowledge as seeking. If one looks closely it becomes apparent that the manipulator's spirituality is surface level. 

• As manipulators we relentlessly compliment the other person's idea of spirituality and religiosity; kind of like love-bombing. This likely makes the manipulator feel more secure in their rationale for leaving a particular spiritual institution - especially one that has harmed them, primarlily as a child. 

• They speak to the one being manipulated with words like, "you're the only one I can be totally honest with." The coping skill here is needing to be heard and/or seen. The manipulator needs to know they were wronged and needs to be pitied. 

• We pretend, subconsciously, to depend on the one being manipulated. Basically we attach ourselves fully to the one we are manipulating. This comes from the need to be comforted. 

• We use our newfound spirituality to convince you that you are in the wrong when it comes to difficulties in the relationship. We will say things like, "God has laid it on my heart...," "I've prayed on this, and I think you need to..." "you need to talk to your pastor/spiritual guide," "you need to pray on that." This is a form of blaming, or absolving oneself of the role we may have played. 

• When we feel secure in the relationship we will make statements that we believe, or want to believe, both parties agree on particular spiritual matters. If the person we are manipulating doesn't agree with us, we use other facets of spirituality to change the subject. As manipulators we tend to think we know better and the other person's thoughts are irrelevant to us at this point. Naturally the manipulated person has served their purpose, so we move on, no longer needing to discuss spiritual matters. 

This last one is the coup d'etat: gaslighting. This, I believe happens when the manipulator has received what they have needed, at least temporarily. We got we needed, what we wanted, and now we can use this person however we want because in our minds' eye we are spiritually mature. 

We like to throw around the term gaslight alot. I do not believe most people gaslight on purpose, especially in spiritual matters. I believe spirituality, or a connection to the soul of the universe, is a basic need. However, it is one we can't really define how it manifests because there is no way to actually define it. The ego tries to create reality, and spirituality is not tangible, so the ego has to resort to finding it in others and adapting it to make sense to the seeker.

The danger is that if we are not self-aware, we can end up using people to get it.  And when we do that, it is harmful, not just hurtful, harmful. 

Our spiritual selves are connected to the divine, however we may define that, and to have someone come in and prey on it can bring the manipulated person to the precipice of despair. 

I love Paulo Coehlo's quote, but when it comes to the intangiblity of the spiritual it's hard to know exactly when someone is manipulating you. You may not even know you are manipulating. So, how do we protect ourselves, or how do we stop ourselves from manipulating??? 

I have NO idea, but I'm gonna pray on it and get back to you with my thoughts. 

Fierce Love Wins

On Wednesday I celebrated with my Valentine, my daughter, at the Kansas City Chiefs rally. 

Today, every meeting or conversaton I had led to the tragic events that transpired after the rally. My daughter and I went with one of my longtime friends, The Westy, and his kids. We had parked on the westside of the highway at a local church. After the celebration, we walked west on Pershing and turned left onto West Pennway. All of a sudden, my phone started blowing up with, "are you all okay?" 

At first I was confused because the rally had JUST ended, how could they expect us to be home already? 

According to KCPD shots were fired at 2:00 pm and Ashley (Westy's wife) texted at 2:03 pm. I saw the text when we turned the corner at West Pennway and responded right away. My cell phone recorded it 7 minutes later at 2:10 pm. What that means is that we were likely near the shooting when it happened, but we didn't hear anything. We made note of all the ambulances coming into the area at the time, but brushed it off, thinking it was for all the people who may have consumed too many adult beverages. 

However, that was not the case - in that 7 minute time frame, a life was coming to an end and 22 people had been either hit by the gunfire or harmed because of the mass rush exiting the area. 

When we were in the car a short time later, Ashley called to let us know what had happened. I don't know about Westy, but the severity, even though I was reading the news as it came in, did not phase me. In fact, it did not phase me until my 7 am meeting when the entire discussion focused on it. 48 hours later and I'm still not in the same headspace as a large majority of people. I'm saddened and outraged for sure, but something happened to me that has made me think about the events differently. 

Of course, all the news and media outlets are focusing on gun control, pointing fingers, inciting outrage. I believe there should be more regulation on firearms, absolutely. No question whatsoever, but I want us to focus on the good too. 

All I can think about is how happy I was that day. The energy that day vastly overwhelmed the violence that ensued. If you've known me for some time, you know that I have thrived on being a sportsball "hater." I would make fun of the excitement surrounding these things, thinking myself better than all these "fans." This past year I have been doing things outside my comfort zone; doing things that other people love. What I've found is that it is invigorating to be a part of a group that thrives on positivity. 

It's that positivity, that surge of loving energy that overwhelms the negative. Of course, that doesn't mean we don't lament the loss and the ensuing grief. What it means is that we let love infuse our lives, not fear. 

Had this parade happened two years ago I would have been outraged (when it happened in 2020 I was outraged) and complained about how it took me away from work. Work? Com'on! Work will always be there. Five months ago I would have found a way to leave my daughter with someone so I could make time to be with a "love interest" at the festivities. But instead my only thought was on spending time with my daughter. My time with her is fleeting. 

My thoughts meander to my daughter's smiling face as she jumped and danced while having a blast with her friends. Even though her persistent hanging on me was annoying, I wouldn't give it up for a moment. I cherish the pervasive images of holding her in my arms as she squeezed her arms around my neck while barraging my cheeks with adoring kisses.  

I reflected yesterday during my 7 am meeting when it came to me and said, you know, if I were the one who would have lost my life yesterday, I would be okay with it because I got to spend those last moments completely in love with my child. There would be no better parting gift as I was welcomed home into the arms of my Savior. Thinking on those moments during those 4 hours of standing around is the memory I will hold onto most fiercely. I will not let fear overshadow the abundant love poured out by us and all those around us. 

If it wasn't for my noon group and the decisions I made a little over a year ago, choosing this fierce love would have never happened. 

There is so much room!

How does this parable, (see below) relate to Step 2? How does this parable relate to "presence" and the "incarnational worldview" as Fr. Richard explains it?

I combined these two because they seem to feed into each other.

Have you ever noticed when you organize a get together you have to invite twice as many people as want because you know half of them will cancel last minute? The reasons for canceling vary, but I think a lot of the motivation for cancelling has to do with an obssesion, or really an addiction to needing others to think we are amazing for having such full lives. I know that's an overgeneralization, but my hearts says there is some validity to it. There's this sense that to be successful, seen, worthy, what have you, you need to fill your plate with so many things that eventually you can't really be present at any of them. When you're not present, you cannot fully enjoy the feast that the host has set.

When you cannot enjoy the bounty of hospitality, of good food, of relationship building, you become addicted to external things that in the long run don't build up. You create a facade of who God created you to be. And becuase you are empty inside, you keep adding more and more to your life so when you look on paper, it looks good. That's insanity.

But we are not paper, we are spiritual and earthy creature (mind, heart and body) made in God's image, meant to partake in the goodness God freely gives. Instead, we take so much of it for granted; we pick and choose the things we believe will make us good, or will detract from the brokenness we may carry.

Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity... that's coming to believe that God really does have our best interest at heart and all we have to do is lean in and say yes. We bring all of our being to the table and participate. When we do that fully, the vestages of insanity slough off and sanity, or wholeness, take its place. 

But here's the lovely thing: when we come more fully to the table, when we are completely present we recognize that there is still more room. Room for growth in our lives, room for growth of our love for God, room for growth in our love of each other. There is just so MUCH ROOM! 

Luke14:15-24

When one of those who were reclining at the table with Him heard this, he said to Him, "Blessed is everyone who will eat bread in the kingdom of God!”

But Jesus said to him, "A man was giving a big dinner, and he invited many; and at the dinner hour he sent his slave to say to those who had been invited, 'Come; for everything is ready now.' But they all alike began to make excuses. The first one said to him, 'I have bought a piece of land and I need to go out and look at it; please consider me excused.' Another one said, 'I have bought five yoke of oxen, and I am going to try them out; please consider me excused.' Another one said, 'I have married a wife, and for that reason I cannot come.' And the slave came back and reported this to his master. Then the head of the household became angry and said to his slave, 'Go out at once into the streets and lanes of the city and bring in here the poor and crippled and blind and lame.' And the slave said, 'Master, what you commanded has been done, and still there is room.' And the master said to the slave, 'Go out into the highways and along the hedges, and compel them to come in, so that my house may be filled. For I tell you, none of those men who were invited shall taste of my dinner.'”

Unlearning the bondage of the "I"

The wisdom teachers of all traditions say mature spirituality is about letting go and unlearning. How have you experienced the transformational power of letting go and unlearning? How does Fr. Richard speak to that?

This question for me pertains to how I unlearn things, aka, how my ego unlearns. Sometimes I pause when people talk about their egos. "That strokes my ego." "That's boosts my ego." "My ego is so self-centered." "My ego is getting the best of me."

Okay, so if your ego dominates so much, why don't you let it go rather than drawing so much attention to it? Why don't you focus on something other than yourself? Perhaps most don't know that ego means "I," like literally, "I" as in me, my person, the most important entity on the planet. It's "I" because we can only see the world through our particular lens. To detach from the "I" means we have to recognize that the "I" is only one part of the sum of the whole. 

We cannot fully rid ourselves of the "I" or the ego. The art of letting go is seeing how the "I" affects the whole. So when it comes to detaching, we have to look at how much control "I" actually have. And really? "I" don't have much control over anything. But "I" to think "I" do. "I" think my words can control you, make you change your mind. The only way "I" can change another person is if that other person is willing to let go of whatever their beliefs are. And if that person changes their mind, then my "I" feels empowered and dives deeper into what it is "I" think "I" can control. You acquiesing boosts my "I."

We're in this constant state of push and pull. My ego wants what my ego wants, and your ego wants what your ego wants. Can we ever get to this place of complete detachment where we live with an intermingling of the egos. I think (again the "I") we can. That place of intermingling might be the place called peace. 

To get to that place of peace requires "dying to oneself." And how difficult is that when the "I" knows what the "I" wants. 

That's probably why addiction is so prevalent, and not just drugs and alcohol, but to people, institutions, it could be anything. We live in this society that ever increasingly perpetuates the satisfying of the "I." When we can't satisfy the "I," the only logical next step is to try to satisfy it by either the same means or something else. It then turns into a constant loop until we because powerless, controlled by something outside ourselves. 

I love the article about Meister Eckhart. He says that get to this place of peace you have to, "Start with yourself therefore and take leave of yourself." Talk about a tall order! How in the world do you do that? Through surrendering to something much greater than, and thus, outside ourselves. It means surrendering to that entity that connects us all together. Surrendering to the entity that creates our souls. That entity in which we find our being: God, the ultimate source of love and compassion. 

The third step prayer of AA is crucial in the surrendering to God. I'm getting ahead of myself, but recognizing our powerlessness is 100% the first step to surrending the "I." Unlearning behaviors then is a persistent surrendering of ourselves to the divine. The one way I know how to do that is through prayer and meditation - and I am not that disciplined. 

Who have you turned to for guidance on letting go and unlearning? What have they had to teach you?

I've been a part of the Christian community for so long that it pains me to say that I have learned to turn to my 12-step group and sponsor for this guidance. We talk a good talk in the church, but I think we struggle with actually connecting with God.

For the past five months I have been in a loop of despair. I have gotten on my knees, sat in intentional prayer at the foot of the cross, sat with Buddhists in meditation. I have pleaded with God to untether me from my depression and the obession over things I cannot control. There are times when I am at peace, when I give it all to God, but my persistent ego loves to come back with a vengence and I forget about God and devolve into a crumpled mess and shell of a human. My sponsor has had good advice, telling me that there must still something God is trying to teach me, something deeper I haven't navigated through. My friend, the lovely magician LG tells me I'm navigating spiritual growth and this is part of the magic of spiritual awakenings. 

I trust that's the case and I just keep turning it over to God, trying to let go of the perception that I need anything external, outside of God, to satiate the discomfort. I cannot believe for a moment that all of life is about suffering - and so therefore I come back over and over to God in those moments when I just don't know what to do. 

Spiritual Manipulation: Disclaimer

I have been working on this post for about a week. Based on the clicks it has received without anything published, I'd say it is something people are interested in reading about. 

Disclaimer: I am not a psychologist and my training and education is limited to college  courses, pastoral care in seminary, leading a spiritual institution, and my personal experiences. I have worked with therapists for much of my adult life, but I am no expert; instead I am a spiritual explorer. Furthermore, this week I am beginning my certification as a Spiritual Director. 

What is a Spiritual Director? First and foremost, spiritual direction is about holding space to intentionally listen for the Holy. It is meant to deepen our connection and awareness of God's presence. We all have the ability to make conscious contact with God. My role as a Spiritual Director will be to journey as a companion; to listen with, rather than listen for, and help others gain clarity as to one's next spiritual steps. 

I have spent the last few months grounding myself in my own spiritual practices. I often refer to God as the ground of all being, a concept theologian Paul Tillich developed. I believe all that is has its' grounding in God because all that exists is because God exists. We are therefore, spiritually and physically connected to God. God is not just an ethereal being pulling strings; God exists in the physical world. All that we say, think and do takes place in the physicality of God. God was, God is, God will be. God is here, God is present. 

So as you read my thoughts about spiritual manipulation, remember these are the things I believe God has revealed to me. You can agree or disagree with me. I am always open to hearing your thoughts on matters I write about. You can tell me I am wrong and I will respect your perspective and take them into consideration.  

I will likely have my first post next Monday as I generally do most of my writing about my discoveries on Sundays. 

Peace until then.

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Slow, but flowing like an open wound

Center for Action & Contemplation Assignment 2:

It came upon me slowly

It intrigued me

It opened me.

It kept me still

even as I fled.

It gave me breath

even as it suffocated.

It kept me alive

even as I slowly drowned.

It came upon me slowly

and it consumed me.

The above poem is my response to Carol Bieleck's poem, Breathing Under Water, from which Father Richard Rohr used to name his book of the same name.

My dependence on alcohol didn't happen overnight but I remember when it became a way of life. December 24, 2010. For 13 years it was my solution; it was my medicine. It was my life preserver. But on August 4, 2022 I saw it for what it really was; my death sentence. 

Every part of who I ever thought I was had been drowned out by alcohol. I was a shell, a mask, of a woman who no longer existed, if she ever existed at all. But deep beneath the waves of despair, a voice still cried out... a cry to God; a cry for salvation. I'm learning to breath underwater, meaning I'm learning to live as a sober alcoholic.

If you have a regular contemplative practice, what role has your contemplative practice played in your life? How has it challenged you?
All throughout my time in seminary and provisional residency I dabbled in contemplative practices. As a pastor, the day-to-day operations of the church can weigh you down, crushing you beneath the endless tasks. Over time, you lose sight of God's presence in the very places we build to worship God. 

You barely connect anymore because without your ego convinced you are savior of the church. Without you, it will surely die. In our addicted society that is drowning under the pressure of relevance, goals, and success, we forget that Jesus alone will determine the fate of his holy bride.

Regular contemplative practice is difficult for me and I want to make it a priority in my life. In my recovery, I have sloughed off many unnecessary burdens and I sense the more I do this, the more purposeful contemplative practices will take their place to align me more fully to the heart of my higher power, God. 

Are there any contemplative practices you would like to integrate into your life? 

Meditation is a practice I thoroughly enjoy and it helps me come into conscious contact with God. Every other Sunday after worship, I join a group of 12-steppers in meditation. The peace I receive in meditation helps center me and reminds me that I need to center down into God, the ground of all being. 

What is keeping you from fully engaging in those practices?

A litany of unending tasks meant to keep me busy, busy, busy. If you aren't busy, you aren't worthwhile, right??? So much to unlearn. 

Feelings Aren't Facts

TSM is probably shaking his head at me now for quoting Alan Watts because I was so opposed to his teachings, but my algorithms keeps showing me gems like this one.

"They" say feelings aren't facts. I'm 100% on board with that for our feelings change from one moment to the next. However, I think many people, especially in our society, understand that to mean that we are not meant to feel our feelings, that we need to brush them aside.

We tend to pride ourselves on being "stoic" without really understanding what that even means. I'm not a philosopher, nor have I studied much philosophy outside the requirements for college and divinity school, but I would say most people understand stoicism to be synonomous with emotionless. That's simply not the case and it has taken me a while to understand that. A year ago I would have told you I was stoic; I wanted to be detached from everything. I determined that everything I do must be based in reason. I didn't have time for feelings so I did the most obvious thing for too many years; I suppressed them.

Here's the problem, though... we're human, we have emotions. We feel.

Watts isn't saying that you stay in the pain and then relegate yourself to a life of misery. Instead, he is saying the opposite, and I believe it aligns with Stoicism. He's saying, from my perspective only, that you will experience pain, you will experience fear, you will experience sadness. And just like we bask in happiness, confidence, gratitude and all the "good" emotions, we need to feel the "bad" emotions too. We must hold them in contemplation, recognize where they come from, and then release them.

Instead of unleashing them, we usually run from them. But guess what? We usually run in circles, confronting them again and again to the the point that the sadness, the fear, the anger, the pain, the resentements, the jealousies... all of it, have grown exponentially to the point our physical bodies can no longer hold them in anymore. And if we try, we usually destroy ourselves in the process.

Stoicism would likely teach us to recognize the emotions when they happen, understand them, and let them go. Don't keep running in circles. Watts would probably say if you do that, then you become your emotions. 

We have emotions. We are not emotions. 

This quote by Watts is from his book The Wisdom of Insecurity . Most of those instagram snippets come from larger swaths of talks or books, of course. If you don't want to read the full book, you can find a larger portion here.

How do we keep living when we seem to be drowning?

Center for Action & Contemplation Assignment:

Drowning

Rays refract

Light bends

Surface looms

Surrender enters

Lungs full

Breathing

Tread

How? Why? We are powerless, but yet we continue moving forward. What is it that causes us to take the next step? What makes us take the next right step? 

It can only be God. Even if we start the program with a sense that we are in control and there are only aspects in our lives we want to improve, the reality is that God alone moves us to the rooms. It is the very definition of Providence, or the act of care by God for us. 

But what about those who don't make that next right step? The ones that never surface the water? 

Was Providence not there? Did God simply not care? It's unlikely. It comes down to desperation, a willingness to survive, to live, to thrive. The voice of God may sound weak, but for those who take the next right step, we follow. We say, yes, I want so much more than this. 

And God is willing to provide. 

For those of us who don't drown, we are taught to tread water, knowing we could easily slip beneath the surface. 

What initial connections do you see between spirituality and Twelve-Step Programs

Everything, starting with Step One. It is in that moment that we realize that our lives are not our own and any control we think we have is a mirage. 

What challenges do you see in making connections between spirituality and Twelve-Step Programs?

Some may think the twelve steps are a religious institution and keep themselves away from seeing that spirituality is not always linked to the rigidity of religion.