I am conflicted and torn.  I’m torn between knowing what it means to live in the moment and knowing when something is worth waiting for.  I am torn between being present to the now and holding space for what I truly desire to manifest in my life.  I am torn between long term happiness and momentary satisfaction, gratification in this present moment.

I didn’t think this would be easy.  I don’t know how I could.   To walk away from the ease of convenient half-love and hold out hope for future whole love, complete love, pure love.  The tension is inherent.  How could it not be?  How can I be in the midst of it all? What does it mean to just be here, to just sit in the tension?  Have I even considered sitting with the tension an option?  Is choosing doing?  Isn’t every action and non-action a choice of some kind?

At times I feel like my heart is fickle.  It betrays me in the presence of the sincerest offer of the incomplete.  It is tantalized by the invitation to settle.  Exposed is its longing to be loved, to be held, to be close, to be connected, to be respected, to be delighted in.  Concealed are the answers it wants to questions the mind parades in front of it, taunting it.  Can you do this?  Can you really do this?  Can you wait?  Is it worth waiting for?  Is it worth waiting for the uncertainty when the certain half-assed alternative bangs at the door, throwing itself at your feet?  Water flows downstream, doesn’t it?  It finds the path of least resistance?  Be the water.

What would the water do?  It returns to its Source, ultimately, I am told.  It flows through life taking each twist and turn as it comes.  It doesn’t stop.  It keeps moving and accomplishes its work as it passes along its way.  It doesn’t think about the next move, the next twist, the next turn.  It responds smoothly, easily, gently and quietly to every obstacle it encounters.  It transcends each one – not in triumph, but in gentle, fluid, instant adjustments to what it finds along its path.  And when it’s divided, it seeks its own and is quickly reunified just beyond what caused the separation.  It flows from height to depth, only to ascend again.  Only to ascend again.  To ascend again and begin its journey along its next way.

Can I learn from the water?  Can I flow without resistance?  Can I allow the way to unfold before me without creating my own obstacles?  Can I know the course, know the desired end and not be unsettled by the means which takes me there?  Can I be present to all I feel in the descent  without obstructing it, without clinging to the obstacle along the way for momentary half-safety?  Does the heart know the way of the water? Does the heart know the way?

It troubles me that Memorial Day is practically, except generally for those directly affected, reduced to a celebration to kick off summer.  I know most Americans don’t pay much attention to patriotic holidays as a rule, but forgetting what Memorial Day is about when your country is at war is unacceptable to me.

Bodies are flown in daily.  The maimed arrive about 15 miles from my house, daily.  We are at war.  Right now, this minute and have been since October 7, 2001 and March 20, 2003 in Afghanistan and Iraq, respectively.  Our country has been at war non-stop for 8 years,  6 on two fronts and I really don’t think most Americans even notice.  I think what we enjoy most, sadly,  is the luxury of not having war fought on our own soil.

We see no bombs dropped, hear no air-raid sirens, see nor smell any carnage.  We don’t see the walking wounded, don’t see (or want to see) the coffins as they come off of the planes which bring our fallen back to be buried.  We experience practically no civilian casualties compared to our “enemies”, nor the raping of our women and girls.  The average American isn’t even aware of the death toll. It’s 4,300 in Iraq and 687 in Afghanistan (57% of the 1202 casualties among Coalition forces are American servicemen and women).  So, 4,987 Americans are dead in these two wars, more dying daily and we’re all about summertime!

I’m not angry about this but I am disheartened.  I love summer and 3 day weekends as much as anybody, but today is a day to remember.  Today, for me, is a day to think about what I can do to help make the world a place where war is not a foregone conclusion.

I can’t say that I qualify as a full-blown pacifist, but I aspire to be.   And as long as war is a reality, I honor those men and women who choose to risk life and limb for the freedom I enjoy in these United States.  I am not always sure they are defending against any real threat to that freedom but, that aside, the choice is not theirs anyway.  I am grateful.

I leave you with words of memorial from a time when war was fought on our soil, when we did see and did notice and appreciate the price of freedom.

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Abraham Lincoln
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
November 19, 1863

This post was originally posted on my blog, Unpacking Faith, where I write about where my spiritual journey takes me.  Enjoy.

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In 2006 I gave up Church and my Christian beliefs for Lent.  I had become completely disillusioned with and cynical towards the belief system in which I was raised.  A system I had fully embraced — to the point of serving as an assistant pastor in a congregation.   For Lent that year, I embarked on the most significant journey of my lifetime to date.  I lay aside my religious beliefs in order to pursue an objective, unbiased assessment of my faith’s assertions, how they resonated with me personally, what really mattered to me, and what others believed about God, Life, Spirit, Love and Light.

Almost immediately, I became fascinated — like a kid in the candy store — exploring the vast variance within Christianity.  Who knew?!  I certainly had no idea that there were so many Christian perspectives (although opposing groups might nullify the Christian identity claims of each other) on things like, nature and origin of man, sin, heaven and hell, afterlife, salvation, authority of Scripture, deity of Christ and the list goes on.  Who knew!?  I absolutely did not.  Though I was very well versed in opposing sides of certain arguments, the concept of essential Christian doctrine was well ingrained.  I thought, for sure, that nearly all Christians agreed about 85% on those – with a few nuances.  Much to my surprise — there are those who identify as Christians (and in my book are Christians – because who the hell am I to say otherwise) who differ vastly on these so-called essentials.

That realization got the wheels to turning.  The book A Generous Orthodoxy was key to helping me see the variance and begin to feel safe asking broader questions – like, what validity, resonance, or, dare I say it — truth would I find, should I pan out further — beyond what the variance in Christian thought.  What conclusions have other cultures drawn about Life and God and the Universe and why we’re all here in the first place?

It wasn’t long before I began to see the world’s religions as 5 blind people with their hands on different parts of a elephant, searching for words to describe what they noticed through the senses available to them.  It was then that I respected and stood in awe of the many, many ways humans have tried for millennia to describe the Great Mystery that is instantly diminished with the first word.

As I began to study the sacred texts of eastern philosophies and try out some of the spiritual practices of the East — yoga, meditation, mindfulness — I reconnected with a familiar voice.  My own.  That still quite voice within that has always guided me, always sounded like me (only wiser and more loving than I imagined myself to be) has had many names. I called it the voice of God, my Inner Voice, my higher self.  No matter then name, it’s the same voice I’ve always known.  It’s the same voice that I write in in my journals when answers to my questions come flooding into my soul.

But I had become disconnected from this voice.  You see, there were countless times, when I called “the voice within” God, that the voice said things I had trouble believing that the God-I-Knew (through church) would say or — better than “said” things — guided me down paths inconsistent with what I had conceived to be God’s ways.  “God wouldn’t say that’s OK, the Bible says it’s not!”  These moments happened more and more frequently and I, as a result, shut down that voice.  I disbelieved, mistrusted, and dismissed it as “just me”.

As I practiced stillness and quiet, the voice began to speak to me again.  I embraced it.  I listened and was encouraged in my journey.  I was encouraged to open my eyes wide and to expect surprises, to expect to have my questions answered, to expect find what I was looking for.

I have been surprised and delighted along this journey.  One surprising delight was a soul I encountered through this blog.  He encouraged me in my journey, availed himself to me to ask questions and to provide guidance.  More than anything, he encouraged me to seek my truth, to hold on to what is true for me and to remember what I already know.  He also introduced me to another book, Conversations with God.

I bought the book weeks, I think, before I ever read it.  When I opened it to start reading, I read about how the book came to be.  It was a conversation one man had with one he calls God over several years.  He asked questions, answers came to him, he wrote them down.  I was familiar with this process.  I knew it well.  I suspect many writers know it well.  I valued the process, without having a clue about the content.  After getting through the Forward and the Introduction, I got to the dialog.  I read.  Maybe 2 pages.  I slammed the book shut and tears streamed down my face.  Tears turned to sobs.  I knew this voice.  I knew it well.  This was the voice I’d shut down.  The one that told me things I couldn’t imagine coming from God.  The God-voice in CwG was what I’ve always known, who I’ve always known God to be.

To say that the God-voice in CwG goes against the grain is an understatement — but it resonated with me like nothing I’ve ever read in my life.  Many concepts I found difficult to understand or even buy — but more of it encouraged me that I was on the right path.  That I was finding my truth. That my journey, this process would be worthwhile — and, in fact, is what it’s all been about all along.

My studies and explorations have led me to encounter many kindred spirits.  One of the sweetest is that of my yoga teacher who teaches class in the sanctuary of a Christian church.  The irony, the sweet serendipity in those two spaces colliding began to melt my cynicism about Christianity.  In that sacred, holy space — I connected with that which was most sacred and holy — myself.  I began to experience me as part of All that Is.  I began to understand what Christ meant when he said that he and his Father were one — just like you and I are one.  Just like we are All one.

And the lines blurred.  There were fewer and fewer contradictions and points of conflicts among belief systems for me.  More and more I could see how many different ways man has been trying to say the same thing and be understood albeit in different languages.  I became an interpreter unto myself – translating the language of the Tao te Ching into the language of the New Testament into the language of Yoga Sutras of the Patanjali. And I encountered other interpreters as well, like Thich Nhat Hanh and his Living Buddha, Living Christ.

In January, I set the intention to find community among like minds.  Within a week I found my local Unitarian Universalist congregation.  I have been attending services when I can since the beginning of the year.  In this space, no one asks you what you believe, but rather members are encouraged to courageously pursue truth and understanding.  There are earth-honoring services and activities, Buddhist meditations, drumming circles, and yes, even Easter and Passover observances.  The sacred text is the body of world literature.  It is the creed-less faith, but the principles resonate with that which matters most to me in this world — with all that matters anyway — Love.

This past Sunday, the congregation reflected on its commitment to social justice.  After recounting the denomination’s historical commitment to human rights, service, community education and organizing, advocacy and the like, the lay speaker outlined this local body’ commitment to social action. And then the question was posed to the congregation — What are you passionate about?  What matters to you?

You never could have convinced me before I left home that I’d be doing what I found myself doing in the following moments.  I raised my hand and took the mic.  I introduced myself and talked about how, as an assistant pastor of a small non-denominational church, I was confronted with woeful reality of the prevalence of violence against women and the faith community’s silence, supporting doctrines, and perpetration of it.  I told them that I became committed to anti-violence against women’s work and have made it my profession and the volunteer work to which I lend my hand.  I also told them of the ways the church’s anti-homosexual teachings and practices have harmed me personally as I watched them harm people I love, and why I am the staunch ally to the GLBT community that I am.

Others spoke after me about the causes that mattered most to them.  And then Matt stood up.  Matt is a gay man and father of a son whom he raises with his partner.  He spoke of the challenges his family faces and said that nothing touches him more deeply than for a straight person to take a stand and say, this is wrong.  Matt hugged and thanked me after service — and I thanked him.  I thanked him for the opportunity to love and be loved.  It’s what this is all about.

In 2006, I gave up church for Lent.  This year, I will be ending my 3 year Lenten fast by attending service on Easter Sunday.  I will be observing Easter and Passover with a group of people who don’t necessarily identify with the faiths either of these observances represent — but who recognize the value of the message of them.  I am finally able to look at Christianity with new eyes — eyes that don’t see and criticize what I find problematic.  I am finally able to afford Christians the same liberty I afford all other religions — the freedom to answer life’s questions in their own way.

I wouldn’t say that I’ve come full circle.  I will say that I have evolved.  I can embrace the Christ and that in me.  I can embrace the Buddha and that in me.  I can embrace the Spring and that in me.  I can embrace the Light and that in me.  And All of That — All That Is — in You.

Namaste.

My quads are killing me and I have no idea why.  How random is that?!?!?  I did yoga this morning and now they hurt worse, but I hadn’t worked out before they started hurting originally.  Any thoughts on how one gets random muscle aches in your quads!?!?!

Friday night I changed my Facebook status to say that I need to slow down!  When I wrote that, I had just finished training a group of advocates for 8 hours, rushed home to grab my bag for my the weekend, rushed to the Metro to get to the bus to take me to New York.  My SIL went with me to New York this weekend.  As we were trying to get out of the train station to make the bus on time, I realized that I didn’t have enough money on my fare card.  I stuck my card in the machine to add fare and reached for my wallet…which was nowhere to be found.  I never carry cash.  I never carry a wallet.  I rarely carry a purse.  I usually throw my bank card and driver’s license in my back pocket, lip gloss in hip pocket and roll out.  Friday, I had almost $200 cash, my license and bank card in a wallet I apparently left on the train.

I needed to make a split second decision — go to New York and attend the classes I’m paying out the ass for, or say forget it and try to do the little to nothing I could do at the moment to get my wallet back.  I had 14 minutes to walk 3 blocks to catch the bus.  I told the station manager what happened.  He made a couple of phone calls, shook his head and gave me the number to lost and found.  My SIL told me she had me for the weekend and that I could pay her back when we got back.  We ran to the bus and made it.  I checked my bags a hundred times because I couldn’t possibly imagine how I could have sat my wallet down on the train and left it.  Nowhere to be found. I called and canceled my bank card and tried to figure out how I was going to make 3 apples, a bag of almonds, a bag of trail mix and a bottle of kombucha last all weekend.  My SIL was going to have to cover the hotel room; I wasn’t going to have her pay to feed me too.  Got to the hotel, checked bags 4 more times.  Wallet was nowhere to be found.

My wallet isn’t the first thing I’ve lost lately.  Two weeks ago, also in route to New York for the weekend I lost an expense check from work.  I had specifically gone into the office to get this check so that I’d have money to eat over the weekend.  I ended up not needing to cash the check, but when I returned and needed the money — the check was nowhere to be found.  Nowhere.  I asked the finance manager at work to cancel and re-issue the check.  She suggested that we wait a few days to see if it turned up.  I understand her not wanting to pay the fee — and I didn’t want to get into why I really needed the money.  We waited.  I got home from work two evenings later and a taped up envelope with no postage was on my steps.  The check had my address on it and it was showing through the little envelope window.  Someone found the check, taped it up and put it in the mail.  With no other address to send it to, it was delievered to my house stamped, “Returned for Postage”.

I also recently lost my Zune, which turned up later, and several other things which all turned up.  I’m clearly seeing a pattern  — one that reveals that my attention is way too scattered at this point in time.  I have let my whole yoga/meditation thing slip for a whole month, been burning the candle at both ends, spinning  my wheels, accomplishing a lot, but neglecting what’s most important.  Me. I’ve neglected placing a premium on my Self and my peace of mind.  I can’t afford to do that.  To the tune of $200 in cash and the cost of getting a new license.  Except that it didn’t cost me that after all.

I believe we can find a lesson in anything if we look hard enough for it.  I was convinced that there was something for me to learn with this last loss.  I knew instantly that part of it was that I needed to slooooooooowwww dooooooowwwwwn.  But beyond that, I believed that there was more.  As you can tell from my last post, I had become very troubled.  I’m training sexual assault advocates, attending a training to work at my local rape crisis center, trying to support people close to me through domestic violence, becoming aggravated by “the” domestic violence story in the news. I was becoming consumed, all of a sudden, by the reality of violence and assholes.

And then I got a text from my dad while in class with the name and telephone number of the gentleman who found my wallet on the train.  He looked up my address in the phone book, found my dad’s listing, called and arranged to get the wallet to him -  with every penny still in it.  A lesson?  A reminder?  A message from the Universe:  People are essentially good. Don’t let go of what you believe to be true.

Finding balance isn’t half as hard as maintaining it.

I’m not used to feeling helpless.  I don’t like feeling helpless.  I believe that we have considerable power over our own lives.  And I cherish my autonomy over my own life.  I honor others’ autonomy over theirs.  But sometimes, we feel like we know what is best for someone else.  Most of the time I’d say, fuck everybody else, do you.  But when it’s a life or death situation – I feel helpless when I can’t save someone who I think needs to be saved.  I am no savior.  I have no right to want to control someone else’s will.  I will patiently respect this person’s right to make her own decisions.  I will struggle to release my attachment to the outcome I want.  I hope she’ll be ok.

I’m practicing non-attachment by letting go of some things today.  I actually started yesterday.  See, one of my intentions for the year was to take an honest assessment of my belongings and clear out clutter.  It’s part of my attempt to live more simply and to really understand why the hell I have the same shirt in 6 colors!  It amazes me that the happier I become with life the more clearly I see the many, many ways I tried to fill up unhappy voids with all kinds of things.

I started with the top drawer in my chest-of-drawers, then my dresser, then my closet.  The first drawer was my sock drawer and it was a little overwhelming.  How do you pick which socks to send to Goodwill??  For the most part my socks never really need to match my outfit because, if it’s cold enough to wear socks, I usually have on boots.  Or I’m going to work out and matching socks don’t really matter.  But having enough clean socks is like having enough clean underwear.  I couldn’t think about this as superfluous at the moment, so I moved on.  I filled 3 huge lawn and garden bags with clothes I either don’t wear, can’t fit, don’t like,or  haven’t touched in a couple of seasons — lots of them were outfits I planned to wear, but have never found the opportunity.   Some things posed a bit of an internal struggle — especially if it was something I considered “really nice”, or if it was something I thought someone I know can use.  But Goodwill is a good cause and a necessity for plenty of people so, off these things go.

Why are we so attached to silly things like clothes — especially clothes we only bought because they were really cheap on the clearance rack?  I am planning to build a wardrobe for my new shape and size that includes a few quality pieces that really are right for me.  Quality over quantity will be my method of replacing the “big girl” clothes.  Besides, I am learning that I am not the kind of person who needs lots of choices.  I can’t decide what to wear when I have 100 items to choose from.  Give me 20 pieces to mix and match and I’ll create masterpieces!  I learned this when I could only FIT 20 of the 100 items hanging in my closet. Do you know how overwhelming laundry can be when you have more clothes than God?!?!  I am even getting to the point where I envy my friends who have to wash every week.  It takes me an entire day to get through my laundry (once/month though it may be), which is just insane!

I also want to make space on my bookshelf — but letting go of books borders on blasphemous!  How do you do this?  Someone, please, give me a formula, a guide.  How does one downsize a bookshelf.  I am watching Clean House right now and if they asked me to get rid of books the way they make these people get rid of their clutter, the deal would be off!!  Any tips on getting this done?

I threw a bunch of stuff in the trash that just take up space — picture frames, trinkets, jewelry I don’t wear, food storage containers, cards, bags.  But how do you throw away purses???  I am having as much trouble with them as I am with books.  But, get this.  I don’t use them!!!  I would much rather put my credit card and ID in my back pocket and lip gloss in my hip pocket and be on my way.  But, when I want to be cute once in a while, I have about 10 bags to accentuate an outfit.  I really think it’s nuts for someone who really doesn’t carry a purse that often to have 10.  But then I feel like what girl doesn’t have 10 purses?  Conflicted, to say the least.

This weekend is a start.  I obviously have a lot of work to do.  Letting go is not as easy as  I thought it would be.

Today my childhood friend, Shellie, is having a hard time getting through the third anniversary of her father’s death.  My heart goes out to her.  I know how much he meant to her and how hard it still is to face the loss.

Shortly after he passed I wrote this post.  It has been fascinating to go back three years and read where I was then.  Most of the guys I mention at the end of the post are still in my life and some have had life changes of their own that have actually made our friendships richer.  I could definitely add to that list now.

Have I run into a jerk or two along the way? Absolutley.  But I remain committed to my fundamental belief that people are inherently good and loving.  I won’t be daunted by the shadows that threaten to convince me otherwise.

Remembering Mark Millings today and thinking of you, Shellie Bell.

~Peace

I'm Free to be Perfectly Balanced

Today I am absolutely convinced of the power of intention.  I am finding my comfy spot in what has been, up to this point, a love-hate relationship with it.  I love that I spent December 31st setting intentions for 2009 and that when I reviewed that list on January 31st a significant portion, 9 of 39 actually, of those intentions have already manifested.  I hate that this means that I have wasted a lot of time believing that the outcome of my life was up to someone else.  And I hate that it means that a lot of the mess in my life has been self-induced because I didn’t know any better.  Meh. Water under the bridge — now I know, and it’s on!

In class Sunday (at Institute for Integrative Nutrition, where I’m studying to be a holistic health counselor) we were asked to write down some intentions for the next week.  I set the intention to let go of a relationship that’s standing in the way of another intention — to have the relationship I want.  I specifically set Friday as my target date to have this completed.  Wouldn’t you know that on the bus from NY last night I couldn’t shake the urgency to go ahead and end it.  The email composed itself in my head as the tears streamed down my face.  The knot in my stomach grew tighter and tighter and served as my reminder of how much energy I was sending into this wasteland.  The tears were cleansing — a loss is a loss — but were also mixed with a bit of fear.  I worried that I’d have to lose the entire friendship and not just the part that’s standing in the way of my future. Well, it’s Monday and by 9:00 this morning it was all done.  Finished. Over.  And the friendship remains in tact. Upon re-reading the specific intention I wrote down – it says, “Release “Guy” – while hopefully maintaining the friendship.”  So which would you say was more real, more powerful?  My fear of losing the friendship or the intention to keep it?  This grows curiouser and curiouser and I’m having fun with it all.

And that’s just one example–there are so many more here as I flip through my journal.  Get clear on what you want in life and the Universe delivers.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen this work in my life in the past few months alone — and, if I’m honest, I can see how it worked when I was clear about how miserable my life was as well.  What you give your energy to grows — I’m such a believer!

So my energy is going toward creating the life I want.  It’s happening so fast it’s a little mind boggling.  The number of like-minded people who have come into my world is astounding.  They don’t come close to outnumbering the one’s who think I’m weird — but they definitely out-shine them.  There will always be those who think Lex is off her rocker.  They’ve always been around.  The only difference is that now they don’t affect me — not one single bit.  In fact, they amuse me.  Through it all I dare them, just dare them to try it.  Put more energy into your happiness than you do into your misery and see what happens!

Ah.  Loving life at the moment, Folks.  Loving it immensely.

Im free to do what I want any old time
Im free to do what I want any old time
So love me hold me love me hold me
Im free any old time to get what I want

I had a revelation today while yacking it up with a friend of mine on the phone tonight.  We were talking about the merits of having a baby versus (my words) buying a baby.  I said, kinda tongue in cheek, that I think I’ll try to have one because that’s cheaper than trying to buy one.  I mean, think about it.  Somebody on a budget doesn’t really need to be at an open house at an orphanage.  I joked that I’d be the one asking which kid was on clearance.  I noted that that is exactly the same way I make all other purchases in my life — how good of a product can I get on the cheap — and that buying a kid would be no different.  Then it happened.  The revelation.

This is how I make decisions in my life about men too!  I’ve bought from the clearance rack!  Slightly irregular, a button I can sew back on, a stain on the collar that I can wash out, broken zipper I’ll use to negotiate the price at the counter — but otherwise, he’s a perfectly good man.  Ha!  What a breakthrough.  My cheapness runs  deeper than my wallet.

I have sold myself short.  I have believed that I don’t deserve to shop from the front of the store.  Instead of shopping for what I really want,  or waiting for what I really want to come into the store, I settle for the low hanging fruit which require less energy (and money) to acquire.  I have settled for the clearance rack.  This is eye-opening.

I have lost 23 pounds since October.  My clothes look silly falling off of me.  I need to buy new ones, but I have a lot more weight to lose, so I don’t really want to spend a lot of money on this in-between size.  I was all set to go to the clearance rack of the already discount store of God — Marshall’s– to find a pair of cheap black slacks and a pair of jeans that fit.  Maybe, just maybe, I need to go buy a pair from the front of the store as an object lesson that I deserve and can have better.  I love a good bargain, but the clearance rack is not the place to shop for life partners or kids.  Eureka!