Glimmers

Dear Friends,

Before March slides away, I wanted to reach out and let you know about an upcoming program I am offering at Mercy by the Sea Retreat and Conference Center in Madison, CT. It is on-site, only, and will be held Monday, April 25th, 9:30-3:30. More information can be found on my “Upcoming” website page or go to Mercy by the Sea directly by clicking here. 

Loss and grief are part of our human story, there is no way around it. And these last two years have heightened our awareness of and deepened our experience of loss, collectively and personally. My 2018 book, “Grieving- the Sacred Art,” offered the idea of conscious grieving as a way of navigating our feelings, thoughts, resistances and desires in the world of grief. Due to our general avoidance of painful feelings, grief is usually managed, as best we can. Conscious grieving, however, invites us to move past the templates of our upbringing, learning new ways to honor the losses in our life….conscious grieving respects our unique experience and suggests a level of participation, a “leaning in” to loss, letting the natural movement of healing to move through us.

So our day at Mercy by the Sea will offer some ideas, create an open space for prayer and sharing, and allow the beauty of the grounds and Long Island Sound to minister to our souls. Together, we will cultivate and nourish seedlings of hope for each other, for ourselves and for our hurting world. If you or someone you know might be interested, I hope you’ll consider joining us.

All the best, Lisa

Dear Friends, 

I’m so glad to think of you as I write this message, you warm my heart as the sun warms the land around me.

I hope Spring is appearing where you are. In my world, I see snowdrops replace snow in quiet corners, tree buds tightly bundled and ready to burst, the goldfinch’s yellow returning and an ease when I walk outside. Winter’s cold has loosened it’s grip at Beseck, thankfully, and a new season outside invites a new season within.

Just like the faithful farmers and gardeners who tend their seedlings in the basement or greenhouse, I too am caring for new life. A little seed of Trust was planted in my heart, tucked away in the darkness and nourished by prayer and promise. The green seedling is strong now, leaves outstretched, reaching for the light and fed by the warmth and water below. I am growing trust.

I’m sort of proud of myself, I have to admit. The news of the world and our country weighs heavy on my heart. The faces of people in distress and anguish, the injustices that are fermenting around us, and loss – personal and collective loss…all are part of my awareness and thus part of my prayer. And still, I tend my little seedling of Trust. I suspect there are many varieties of Trust, like tomatoes, and, like tomatoes, they serve different purposes. I’m not 100% clear what the purpose is for this particular sprout, but that’s part of the deal with Trust, isn’t it? For me, it’s an invitation to openness and a generosity of spirit. We shall see…

In my quiet time today, I sat with that seed. Pushed aside, broken apart to make room for the emerging seedling, I saw the pain that comes with new life. I offered a prayer of gratitude for the promise it protected until it was time, I honored the pain of transformation that all living things endure. I told the seed that I will participate in the care of it’s seedling, this young and most eager, tendril of Trust. I will mind her lovingly and faithfully, as she, and I, mature in the warmth of the sun and the light of Love.

with affection and gratitude,

Lisa

Dear Friends,               

Are you a perfectionist?

It was recently suggested to me that I am caught in a web of perfectionism. “How can that be?” I asked. “I’m overweight, the house is a mess, I’ve multiple unfinished projects piled in the corner! How can I be a perfectionist?”  Perfectionists, in my mind, complete their projects, clean the back of closets and definitely are the proper weight for their body size. They are, in my thinking, perfect. In writing this down and admitting it to you, I glimpse the fallacy of my thinking…just a glimpse, mind you, this is big stuff.

Wikipedia tells me that perfectionism “is not a synonym for excellence or conscientiousness.” Instead, its defined as “a person’s concern with striving for flawlessness and perfection and is accompanied by critical self-evaluations and concerns regarding others’ evaluations.” I have to admit, I am caught in that web of constant critical self-evaluation. Even right now, as I write about this personality style that some of us struggle with, I’m saying to myself, “Lisa, there is an unjust war breaking out in Ukraine. That is where your focus should be…what’s wrong with you!”

Recently, I’ve come to appreciate the the multiplicity of me…appreciate and more importantly, have compassion for the many parts that make up who I am. I have learned that we carry the memories, desires, gifts, fears, wounds and visions through our lifetime, and with a sacred lens, we can learn to welcome them all. When Jesus invites all to the table of love, could he be inviting all of me? Even my perfectionist self?

When I open my heart to my not-so-perfect-self, when I trust that all of me is truly loved, something shifts. There is more space. I am able, in this moment, to experience a deeper compassion, for myself and beyond myself; a compassion that flows toward my brothers and sisters in Ukraine on this sad February day. I have space to hold their fears and losses. When my love-fire is fueled in this moment of vulnerability, my tears join with theirs and my prayer cries out on their behalf. Sitting in this time and place, I rest in perfect Love.

Thank you for being you,

Lisa

Dear Friends,

A new year, a new beginning, at least in my little world at Lake Beseck. The holidays, come and go with their own special rhythms, and now it is January. Here in New England, we sink into deep darkness and stunning cold as the challenges of life continue. I’m glad the ice fishermen have returned, especially in this 2 degree morning. Their resolute stance of Hope is undeniable…inspirational.

I, too, am making a choice infused with hope. I am gathering together my thoughts, resources and view out the window to complete a memoir started long ago. The process is like packing for a big trip, as I make sure the essentials are at hand and, tucked away, the extra bits needed for unexpected moments. You never know when a button needs attaching, a headache needs soothing, or an island cove needs floating. This particular “trip” comes with built-in challenges, of course, that is the nature of life. So, I am learning to make adjustments – visits with the physical therapist to tend shoulders bent toward the keyboard and special headphones to manage the construction noise next door. Yes, my intention is Hope in the midst of the expected and unexpected nuances of life. 

Life in my seventh decade is a resource, as well. The years have shaped who I am, and at the same time, supported the emergence of my ease with who I was created to be. The losses, in particular, have held great lessons that teach me still. I move through the template of the Land of Loss – Alone, Passage, Surrender, Changed – and find myself thinking a little differently about relationships or experiencing feelings in new ways. This has been, for me, a path of healing and I am ready to tell the tale.

I am grateful to you, friends, who read these Glimmers and share this human journey with me. You are a resource for my project. At the same time, it is my prayer that these personal images and stories become part of your resources for the path of life. You, me, and those ice fishermen – we stand together. Let us sing together, too, with full hearts ’cause “we’re going to the end of the line.” Join the Traveling Wilburys and smile when you click on this reminder:

“It’s all right, even if you’re old and gray,

well, it’s all right, you still got something to say.

Well, it’s all right, remember to live and let live,

well, it’s all right, the best you can do is forgive.

With gratitude, Lisa

Dear Friends,

As January 6, 2022 approaches, I seek to reclaim the understanding of January 6 that I used to share with my young sons – 30 plus years ago.

In the Christian tradition, January 6 is Epiphany. This is the day we celebrate the Three Wise Men visiting the Christ child with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. These faithful scholars traveled from far away to respond to a promise, to follow the Light. Their gifts and their presence can be described in many ways, but one thing always stood out for me. They were not of the Jewish tradition as Jesus, Mary and Joseph were. Somehow, the reality of this little baby transcended lineage and location, and the Christ light reached out to humanity itself. The travelers said yes to the Mystery and their presence extended God’s light around the world.

I wanted my children to enter the experience of the Epiphany at the ground level. So, with Burger King crowns on their heads and Grandma’s Christmas bathrobes wrapped around their sweet bodies, they walked slowly toward the creche as we all sang, “We three kings of Orient are, bearing gifts we traverse afar…” They’re outstretched hands held toys or items they were ready to share through our local Goodwill, I hoped they would see a connection with selfless giving during weeks so focused on receiving. At the same time, I hoped they would understand the invitation to walk toward the humble stable, to follow the star of wonder, star of night, that guides us to the perfect Light.

On this January 6, when our hearts are so confused and distressed by the conflict now associated with this date, let us remember the simple story of the babe in the manger, surrounded by a diverse crowd of God’s creation. Let us trust in the Light that leads the way to the Holy. May we open our hearts to hope proclaimed by these three, who took risks on their journey, who trusted their call.

Join me in singing this chorus, friends, along with the Robert Shaw Chorale. Just click on these words and keep your eye on the light that leads us all to Love.

Oh, star of wonder, star of night
Star with royal beauty bright
Westward leading, still proceeding
Guide us to thy perfect light

Blessings of peace, Lisa

 

“You’ve got to trust this God who doesn’t tell you in advance what the future’s going to be. He doesn’t tell you. And that’s the contract. Once you say yes, then you begin to find out. It begins to make sense. It begins to reassure you and so on. But here is where Mary stands out magnificently for all of us, and that’s what we mean by saying, ‘Imitate Mary’s fiat,’ which means a lot more than, ‘Okay, I’ll put up with it.’ It means, ‘Here I am. Do with me anything that you want. I’m ready to go anywhere or nowhere. To be something or to be nothing.’ ” Fr Thomas Keating

 

Dear Friends,

Read that again….

What is Fr Thomas saying to us? What is he saying to you?

This journey of Mary’s, available to a person of any faith tradition for consideration, is our journey. Her assent creates space for surrender.

‘Here I am. Do with me anything that you want. I’m ready to go anywhere or nowhere. To be something or to be nothing.’

This idea stirs up such a range of reactions, thoughts, feelings and responses for me. My own journey has led me to an interesting place these days, and I suspect that’s the case for you too? These complicated times and the constant demand to “adjust” to changing information and points of view is so challenging. Sometimes it’s even hard to just relax on the couch, let alone move into a “Letting go, Letting God” mindset.

But the fundamental movement of surrendering to God’s invitations still calls out to the wayfinder within each of us.  And we ask ourselves…What would it be like to “let go” that deeply? To trust that deeply? Who would I be on the other side of such a transformation?

This call to Surrender, found in many spiritual paths, sometimes feels like a standing-on-a-cliff-kinda-trust. Fr Thomas explains:

…it’s by means of these apparently impossible situations that bear no solution that one is pushed to a new level of consciousness in which one perceives the whole of reality from a new perspective,

Surrender is, indeed, a call to trust, ever more deeply. And that is my prayer today, to move into new understandings of what trust means in my life….in relationships, family connections, ministry, as a citizen…all the way down to the molecules and microbes of my life. I wonder what a deepening trust means in yours?

With hope and encouragement in my heart, for each of you dear friends….

and with tender love, Lisa

Dear Friends,

A new day…we step into the 2021 holiday season with open eyes. Last year’s November and December changed us, as we learned to cherish what we held most dear. With Thanksgiving around the corner, Christmas and Hanukkah coming soon, perhaps our hearts will deepen further into the mystery of our human connection.

I gratefully experienced that connection from this community of hope, following my November 7th Glimmer. Thank you for responding with prayer, love and kindness toward my request for prayer. When I decided to share my loss with you, my intention was to ask for that prayer and, possibly, allow a bit of my journey to support yours. I did not expect to be taught how to receive your support, I did not expect to experience a wave of sustaining love as my days moved forward. The retreat went well, the Sisters heard of your prayer and were grateful for our time together. But if I may, I’d like to explore this other side of asking for prayer – the willingness to receive love. 

I suspect that many of us resist the idea of receiving love and prayer, let alone asking for it. But I am learning, as a pilgrim in the Land of Loss, what a gift it is to read/hear words of encouragement and faith on my behalf. I allowed my heart to open and my soul to be nourished. There is a degree of surrender in the process, though, a measure of letting go into the Mystery that makes this exchange difficult. To ask for and to receive your prayer, I must admit my vulnerability. To ask for and to receive your prayer, I move toward a new understanding of trust. 

Another element of the journey became very clear…. while we do not know the very intimate details of another’s loss, our heart’s willingness to be present becomes part of their healing. I initially “pushed away” the messages that presumed I was in deep sadness at my stepfather’s death. Unfortunately, my sadness has lasted through 60 years of wounds from a dysfunctional relationship. His death brought difficult things to mind, my Land of Loss experience is complicated. But as your messages of prayer and support continued, I relinquished my grip on the narrative. My heart softened and healed, as I allowed myself to receive God’s love through your intervention. 

I share this with you friends, to offer a glimpse into another’s journey. I know I am not the only one with challenging relationships, confusing loss, and complicated grief. Perhaps my vulnerability will support you, my prayer sustain you, as we wander together through the fields and forests of loss. Thank you for sharing your willing hearts.

peace, Lisa

Dear Friends,

For those of you who know me through my work in loss and grief, you know about the Land Of Loss. This image, and the travels through it, are how I understand the powerful experience of loss, change, grief and transformation. When I was writing my book, I hoped that no one died in my little world until I was done because when you are in the Land of Loss, you look at things differently. I have entered the Land of Loss, my 97-year-old step father died on Tuesday. This loss has stirred up long-ago feelings and memories that, once in a while, return for my attention.

Today’s Glimmer is a request for your loving thoughts and prayer. Tomorrow, I will be driving to the Bronx to offer a 24 hour retreat for the Sisters of Charity of New York on loss, grief and hope. I wish to continue my ministry as authentically as possible, and so will explore the Land of Loss with these dear women in a new way. I bring you with me, your losses and you desire for healing. Together, we find our way. I close with this lovely blessing from Jan Richardson.

Peace, friends, Lisa

Solace Blessing by Jan Richardson

That’s it.                                             

That’s all this blessing                             

knows how to do:                              

Shine your shoes.                                   

Fill your refrigerator.                               

Water your plants.                                 

Make some soup.                                  

                                                               

All the things

your cannot think                                   

to do yourself                                      

when the world

has come apart,                                   

when nothing                                         

will be normal                                     

again.                                                                                  

                                                              

Somehow                                             

this blessing knows

precisely what you need.                    

even before                                           

you know.                                              

It sees what will bring                           

the deepest solace                              

for you.                                               

It senses what will offer                      

the kindest grace.

 

And so it will step

with such quietness

 into the ordinary moments

where the absence

is the deepest.

 

 It will enter

with such tenderness

 into the hours

where the sorrow

is most keen.

 

You do not even

 have to ask.

 

Just leave it open –

your door,

your heart,

your day

in every aching moment

 it holds.

 

See what solace

spills through the gaps

your sorrow has torn.

See what comfort

comes to visit,

holding out its gifts

in each compassionate hand.

Dear Friends,   

The light is fading here in New England, leaves are scattered everywhere and we’re entering a new season of our lives. I am grateful for the distinct seasonal changes in nature that support the shifts and movements within. As I settle in, gathering blankets around me and keeping my pot of tea nearby, I wonder what this time of increasing darkness will bring. What wisdom or insight will appear? Celtic tradition tells us that we are beginning a time of waiting, a time of reflection, where the veil is thin and mystery is close at hand.

As I prepare to receive what comes my way, I find myself thinking about hope. I’m interested in deepening my understanding of hope, especially at this stage of my life and in these times in our country and the world. Author Barbara Kingsolver tells me,

“The very least you can do in your life is figure out what you hope for. The most you can do is live inside that hope, running down its hallways, touching the walls on both sides.”

Can you imagine such a thing? Running down it’s hallways or placing your hands on the walls of Hope? My place of hope would also include those blankets and my favorite teapot, how about yours? It would include memories and dreams, tears and laughter. This room, or welcoming space named Hope, invites me in just as I am –  carrying my doubts and fears and my eager heart, too, as I embrace this new day. Here, the chaos is stilled, the pieces come together, Love is revealed.

I nestle into the quiet darkness around me, too soon the falling leaves will be replaced by snowflakes. But this year, I open my heart to Hope’s call to surrender and trust. I open my thoughts to Cynthia Bourgeault’s understanding of Hope’s mystery,

“Hope fills us with the strength to stay present, to abide in the flow of Mercy no matter what outer storms assail us. It is entered always and only through surrender; that is through the willingness to let go of everything we are presently clinging to. And yet when we enter it, it enters us and fills us with its own life – a quiet strength beyond anything we have ever known.”

Hopeful blessing on your dear hearts, Lisa

Dear Friends,

Loss diminishes our sense of wonder. Loss causes us to doubt that joy could ever be felt again. And if we do feel better, sometime in that far-away-future, its been so long we may not weave the strands of Loss and Wonder together. We may not realize the deep and important movements that are taking place. We’re just glad to be breathing.

This is my invitation today. …step into the Both/And of Loss and Wonder.

Though Loss weighs us down as an ever-present awareness that seems to be in direct conflict with Contentment and Joy, we have the capacity to transcend those rough edges.  In my experience, our Either/Or way of thinking leads us to believe that Loss and all of its attending feelings must end before we can possibly feel like smiling again. Either/Or sets us up with “Life is good” on one side and “Life is awful” on the other, and we see through one lens or the other. Both/And, or unitive, thinking expands our minds and allows us to make a space for both, even all, of the aspects of life.

Yes, life can be awful. The death of a loved one, the political climate, the plight of of the poor, refugees, and marginalized in our world are evidence of serious ruptures in our human experience. At the same time, (a very key and lovely phrase), we have known love, observed selfless people caring for others, experienced moments of peace in our hearts, enjoyed the delight of a child. Both/And consciousness allows us to make room for the fullness of the human experience and find nourishment in its tenderness and joy in its wonder. As we live and work with the very real challenges around and within us, Both/And invites us to reclaim the wonder of being alive.

I close with this message from Thich Nhat Hanh, “Our True Home.” Many blessings of wonder to each of you, Lisa

“Our true home is in the present moment.

To live in the present moment is a miracle.

The miracle is not to walk on water.

The miracle is to walk on the green earth in the present moment, to appreciate the peace and beauty that are available now.

Peace is all around us -in the world and in nature -and within us – in our bodies and our spirits.

Once we learn to touch this peace, we will be healed and transformed.

It is not a matter of faith; it is a matter of practice.”