Or maybe both.

Whatever length, from 90 minutes to 4 days, I always offer these words at the beginning of a silent retreat:  "Some of you have come here to rest, some to wrestle.  You will probably end up doing both and both are holy." 

Many people think the purpose of a retreat, especially a silent one, is to rest.  And that's true...but sometimes what brings rest doesn't feel like it at first. 

The pace of life can leave little time to slow down or stop for a while.  A silent retreat offers one an opportunity to do just that...there's nothing one has to do.  There is no food to prepare, no lawn or children to take care of, no work-related tasks that need to be done...ah freedom!  Slow walks, naps, sitting by a pond, taking time while eating, these can be a welcome change of pace.

But the pace of life can also leave little time to tend to feelings of grief and anger.  A silent retreat offers on an opportunity to do just that...there's plenty of space in your schedule to welcome what has not had time (or permission) to surface. 

For those who have been in survival-mode from one day to the next,  whatever the cause, a cleansing cry may bring the kind of rest most needed.  A prayer walk or talking to a spiritual director about one's anger rather than continuing to hold it in may bring the freedom most desired.  And where better to wrestle than a safe, quiet, and beautiful place of prayer?!  

One retreatant pointed out how the word "rest" is found within the word "wrestle."  Fascinating.  We do not need to fear wrestling, for within it we find rest! 

Is it time for you to come away to a quiet place by yourself to rest and wrestle? 

I've got an opportunity for you!  A couple of rooms have become available for October 28-31, at Saint Meinrad Archabbey in St. Meinrad, IN.   Scholarships are available.  Register here.   

"Make Me an Instrument of Your Peace" is this silent retreat's theme.  And peace may just begin with some wrestling!

I’ve grown weary of all the talk about the heart in contemplative prayer.
 
Sounds terrible, doesn’t it?! 
After all, the heart is the focal point of contemplative prayer! 

But after a while, my heart started getting angry, feeling the burden of such attention and expectation. 
 
Nineteenth century Russian mystic Theophan the Recluse said, “To pray is to descend with the mind into the heart, and there to stand before the face of the Lord, ever-present, all-seeing within you.” 

Teachers of prayer and contemplation, like Theophan the Recluse, have emphasized the heart and taught various ways of guiding us to pray from it.  I have learned and offered others various ways of integrating such prayer, especially through the imagination as we bring our attention to the heart. 
 
But I did not realize how much modernity was still operating under the surface. 
 
Contemplative prayer was such a welcome relief for me after prayer that emphasized the “head” with its words, whether thought or spoken.  With the latter, once one had invited Jesus into or given Jesus their heart, the focus was on knowing the right beliefs and acting accordingly.  All that was needed for prayer was found from the neck up (and the rest was not to be trusted!).   
 
This disconnect was not unexpected.  When modernity ushered in a time of dissecting in order to discover, the heart became associated with a particular organ in a particular location.  Where is the heart?  It’s in the chest, of course!  It’s job is to pump blood (and woe to the person who trusts any feelings associated with it!).        
 
The earliest Biblical people did not think of the heart (lev) in this way. 
 
The “heart” of a person referred to the “seat of all of life.”  When told to “love God with all of your heart,” this included one’s mind, soul, and strength.  For the ancient people, the heart was the whole of a person—feelings, thinking, understanding, will, and wisdom.  Since the heart was the center of one’s existence (physically, mentally, and emotionally), to love God with one’s heart was to allow God to be at the center of one’s whole self (body, mind, and soul). 
 
What is at our center directs our life.  Tapping into and resting in that center with God is the playground of contemplative prayer.
 
However, modernity broke up this inherent unity to study and evaluate the diversity of the parts and it elevated the mind above all else.  Contemplative prayer with its emphasis on the heart, invited the mind to descend from it's place of self-sufficiency and recover humility.   But, if modernity is still the framework, the draw is to elevate one part over the others, this time placing the heart on a pedestal rather than locating it within the whole.     
  
During a time of meditation with a Buddhist, I was not guided to focus on my heart, but to discover any place of openness or peace within.  Hearing her words offered me an unexpected ah-ha moment!  I immediately was transported back to the Hebraic view of the heart.  As I listened to the whole of my body and not just one part, I discovered the burden on my heart and tension in my chest began to dissipate.  (Last week I mentioned this inner co-dependency with the heart.)
 
I chuckled as I noticed the openness was in my face, particularly my cheeks.  Another time the openness was in my gut, still another behind my eyes. 

All of these places were open to God but I was unable to see them for my inner eyes were focused on one place!  So much wisdom just waiting to be discovered.   
 
When God infuses all of oneself, all of oneself is a channel to experience God.  The heart is found everywhere, not simply in one physical location. 
 
Where am I best able to listen to the heart of God today?  I notice an openness in my hands.  Through my hands, the heart of God has something to say to the heart of me.  Through my hands I listen and offer a prayer.       

​There are some poems & places where the images stay with you.  When September arrives, Postscript, by Irish poet, Seamus Heaney, is one of those poems for me.  Read or listen and watch below.  
 
Postscript
And some time make the time to drive out west
Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,
In September or October, when the wind
And the light are working off each other
So that the ocean on one side is wild
With foam and glitter, and inland among stones
The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit
By the earthed lightning of a flock of swans,
Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white,
Their fully grown headstrong-looking heads
Tucked or cresting or busy underwater.
Useless to think you'll park and capture it
More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there,
A hurry through which known and strange things pass
As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways
And catch the heart off guard and blow it open.
 
​__________________________
I remember being at a Nebraska rest stop during a wind storm on my way to Seattle from Cape Girardeau, Missouri, a cross-country move fraught with break-downs, both literal and metaphorical! 

As I was getting out of the car, the wind caught my driver's side door and blew it wide open.  In that moment, all the stress, frustration, and anger that I usually succeed in keeping under wraps stormed to the surface.  Much to my surprise, I started raging into the wind as my hair whipped all around!  For any witnesses, I am sure it was a sight to behold.  I felt both powerful and powerless. 
 
It’s a moment I will never forget. 
 
And while I have no desire to return to that rest stop in Nebraska, I return to the story quite often!

There have been other times my heart has been caught off guard and blown open by unexpected beauty, love, and goodness. 
 
Sometimes they have been ordinary moments, sometimes extraordinary—from receiving a tender touch from my spouse after a fight (and it relaxing my defenses) to experiencing an ecstatic vision of being swept up in the Wave of Love (and it changing everything). 

Whether ordinary or extraordinary, surprises like these are heart-softening and heart-opening.
 
There are places I make a point to return to because they are the places of these heart-softening and heart-opening moments.  I had not been expecting anything (or at least I thought I knew what to expect) and suddenly something unforeseen and unplanned happens to “catch the heart off guard and blow it open,”  changing that time of year, that place, and me, forever.
 
I cannot help but encourage others to go and see (& experience) these places for themselves—from monasteries to places in nature--especially in September and October.   
 
How about you? 
What are your moments that have caught your heart off guard and blown it open?  
Where would you suggest someone make time to go to during September or October?
​

“Wake up!”  they shout.  “Pay attention!  Turn around!” 
 
These are words of prophets.  And I have heard from three of them this week alone. 
 
With the shouting and weeping of Isaiah and Jeremiah, health care workers are sounding the alarm.  Are we listening? 
 
They have the “inside scoop” of “reality as it is” rather than what we would like reality to be. 

COVID is not over. 
 
Social issues of the day and people’s selfish lack of response to them fired up Old Testament prophets.  But their audience was a “stiff-necked people,” not listening to those who God was speaking through.    
 
These nurses and chaplain came to Spiritual Direction fired up about people’s lack of response to this social issue of our day.  They are watching a preventable illness kill people of all ages while most seem to go on as though nothing is happening (or simply have decided to due to pandemic fatigue).  
 
The fruit of “false prophets” (like a pastor in my town who is preaching against and even punishing parishioners for wearing masks or the government and local leaders playing politics) is fear, division, isolation, hate, and death.  They may speak the “right words” even use religious-sounding language, but “you’ll know them by their fruit” taught Jesus.
 
The fruit of these health care prophets is lived-out compassion and the saving of lives. 
 
A vaccinated chaplain holds the hands of unvaccinated patients on the COVID floor of the hospital, putting her own and her young family’s health at risk to offer comfort.  A nurse recovering from her own break-through case of COVID feels like she’s at the breaking point as she continues to tend to so many patients.  A neonatal nurse watches as her pediatric hospital begins to fill and warns that the most vulnerable are suffering due to a view of freedom divorced from the common good.
 
These health care workers are fired up with anger that shouts, “Something must change!”  They are fired up…and they are exhausted. 
 
“Last year we were everyone’s heroes,” one told me, “this year we are ignored and at times even hated.  I don’t understand.  We’re seeing so much death and no one is listening to us, no one seems to care about us.  Any cards of encouragement sitting around are from last year.”
 
“I don’t know how long I can do this,” another said.
 
It is time to stop dissociating.  The path of and toward Life can be hard (& long) sometimes.  But as my good friend, Linda says, “We do not do things because they are easy, we do them because they are important.” 
 
Listen to what the health care workers are saying is important.  Here’s one right here in Tennessee.
 ____________________________
​
Now if you are a health care or front-line worker, an adult or child surrounded by people who refuse to heed the prophetic voices of our time, but prefer to “listen to what their itching ears want to hear” (see II Timothy 4:3), I want to offer some observations from a Spiritual Direction session this week.  With her permission, allow these insights from a Florida chaplain of a big hospital to speak to you.  First, let's begin with some Lectio Divina.
 
Mark 4:35-41
35 On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side.” 36 And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. 37 A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. 38 But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are drowning?” 39 He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. 40 He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” 41 And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?
 
After listening to the story read to her three times, the chaplain spent time with two phrases she was drawn to: “On that day” in verse 1 and “the cushion” in verse 38.
 
These details held precious wisdom for a way through this pandemic storm.  Here is what she discovered:

1. Details matter.  Jesus’ story had particularity.  It happened on “that” day.  His particular day happened to be full of parable-teaching, first addressing a large crowd then going into more detail with his disciples.  It was that day when the storm hit his boat while he was sleeping.  When did the storm hit for you?  What day was it?  Or maybe it is “this” day!  Exhausted, Jesus slept on “the cushion.”  He needed something comfortable, maybe even soft, on that particular day.  The particulars of our lives matter.  God is in the details.    
2. Deal with your internal storm.  We may have little or absolutely no control over the external storm but our inner storm can be stilled and at peace, even as the external storm rages.  Especially when swamped or drowning, prioritize self-care.  Get more sleep and make sure you have a good pillow!  If the Son of God needed them, so do you!  See your therapist and/or spiritual director.  Tend to your particular body, mind, and soul (not just others’ bodies, minds, and souls!).   
3. Voice your needs.  Know who you can talk to about what is going on and who you cannot.  Both can help.  Some friends and family members want to help but won’t be able to hold our painful stories, that’s okay.  How can they help you weather this storm in other ways?  Can they make you laugh by texting funny memes?  Maybe you need some beauty and someone can give you flowers from their garden.  Putting together a calming playlist or making a nourishing meal...there are plenty of small things that can make a big difference.  And there are some who can help in big ways.  Don’t be afraid to ask particular people (you know who they are) for help in big ways. 
4. Join Jesus on the cushion.  We are human—we get tired.  We also panic, rage, and don’t think God cares.  What if we joined Jesus on the cushion for a moment?  Let our brains and bodies rest (even in the middle of the storm).  Trust that somehow, meme by meme, song by song, through the presence of beauty, God is in the boat with us and we will make it through this storm and to the other side (even if it is just on this day). 

This may be figurative for you as in, “There’s no going back to church as it was before the pandemic.” Or it may be literal, as in, "I'm not going back…period."
 
I have heard both.  Pastors and parishioners come to spiritual direction wrestling with what the future looks like for their particular church and the Church as a whole.

Others come with the discovery that church attendance was part of a checklist they found relief from during the pandemic when it was no longer something they “had to do” because they couldn’t do it! 
 
But things are beginning to open up.  As more people receive vaccines and mask-mandates are lifted, some are feeling a growing pressure to figure out what they’re going to do when it comes to church (this includes pastors!).
 
Some tell me how much they miss being with their congregation and cannot wait to go back to in-person worship without the worry of virus spread.  While these folks have regularly tuned-in to online worship, just thinking of returning to the building brings joy.  It will be a type of homecoming to a family and place they long to see and be. 

Yet this is not the sentiment of everyone.
 
Two months into the pandemic, a long-time church-goer said to me, “It’s astounding how little I miss church.  That's definitely saying something to me.” 

This person regularly comes to spiritual direction and regularly helps those in need, yet they have experienced a growing disconnect with their church over the past few years.  The pandemic only heightened, or brought to the surface, what was covered by obligation and comparison.  While those around them seemed to be enjoying and feeling nourished by the Sunday morning service, everything felt forced and inauthentic to them.  
 
In spiritual direction they recalled continuously leaving spiritually starving and angry.  They recounted every positive-thinking, heart-opening spiritual practice they have tried…and nothing changed.  Their discontent and disgust just grew.  The pandemic was in some ways a grace, offering a break from the inner turmoil of whether they should stay or leave.  
 
Overly-simplistic truths like “Church is the people not the building” offer little help because church and church-going can be complicated depending on one’s personality, childhood, personal beliefs, and present experience of church-going and church-people.  I know this, because I, too, have wrestled for decades, and continue to wrestle, with all that is intertwined with church/Church.  
 
It’s been a long, liminal space for everyone.  This threshold, or in-between time, can lead to deep questions or the acceptance of a clarity that has been clouded over by a sense of coerced duty and/or loyalty (whether the pressure comes from within or without).
 
Could leaving church actually be a sign of spiritual growth?  It just may be.
 
My directee craves more than their congregation can offer.  They want to go places theologically and spiritually their congregation is unwilling—perhaps unable—to go. Conversations have failed to lead to Shalom (peace and wholeness). 

Even after many years, they may need to heed Jesus' call in Matthew 10, to “shake the dust from your feet” and leave.  No need to demonize the pastor or congregation, it’s simply time to move on and continue one’s journey on and toward the path of Life.  It’s not easy.  There’s no one-size-fits-all way of leaving a place and people one had hoped would be life-giving.
 
It requires a lot of trust.

As my directee has wrestled with their discernment, I have never given them reasons to stay or leave or suggestions on how to stay or leave.  I just listened.  Ways of wisdom always arise as we release our stranglehold and wait for God's guidance (for the Holy Spirit is the true Spiritual Director, after all!).
 
So whether you are joyfully anticipating resurrection through returning to a beloved congregation or grieving the realization that you need to let something die for belovedness (including beloved community) to be born again, spiritual direction is a safe place during the in-between.  
 
In spiritual direction, you will find permission to let your own inner wisdom be your guide.  Allow the feelings of pressure and dread to speak.  Listen to what your body has to say.  Pay attention to the images your soul is offering.  Become aware of patterns in the ways God has been at work in your own life story.   
 
For God has been and always will be fully present to you and in you.  The fullness of God's presence is equally with the person who worships in a church building (with 15 or 5000 people) as with the person who worships in ways that do not include a church building and its congregation.
 
To a group of young men, 13th century mystic, scholar, and Dominican priest, Meister Eckhart, said: "Whoever truly possesses God in the right way, possesses him in all places: on the street, in any company, as well as in a church or a remote place or in their cell…” (Walshe, 2008, Talks of Instruction, 6).  He also once said, 

Imagine you are being photographed and interviewed for Humans of New York.  What story do you tell?
 
“We are the stories we tell about ourselves,” proclaims Rabbi Rami in his Guide to Forgiveness (p 65).  If this is true (and our love of stories, as evidenced by the popularity of Humans of New York along with Netflix and novels, show it is), then it’s important that we know what stories we’re telling. 
 
If the stories you share with others and the stories that live in you were turned into a movie, a series, a novel, or a HONY Facebook post, I’m curious what they would reveal as to who you are (at least in your own mind or who you want people to believe you are!).  It’s worth consideration, so let’s ask some questions:
 
If you were to share 3 life-defining stories, what stories would you tell?  When you start thinking through your stories, maybe you discover there are more you want to tell, so try 7-12 stories. Maybe you write down the titles or a brief synopsis to begin with, then take a look at them.  Notice how your collection of stories define who you are and how you approach and move through life.
 
How many of your stories include tragedy and/or suffering?  How many of those stories also include redemption and/or resurrection?  Notice any elements of surprise or suspense.  
 
Who are you in the stories you tell?  What role do you play?  Are you cast as the victim? savior? hero? rebel? fool?  Is your soul happy with that role?  We may not realize that we are playing a role someone else has written for us.  Or, we might discover we are typecast in a particularly unfavorable role.
  
Thinking of stories of harm, hurt, anger, and resentment that continue to burden you…
Are there any stories that need to be edited or re-storied?  Which ones are crying out for a rewrite? 
 
Even as strong feelings exist around them…
Is it time to assign new meaning or step out of a role that no longer fits?   As Rabbi Rami reminds us--feelings come and go, stories can last a lifetime. (p. 79).  We do not have to wait until our feelings are all resolved before we move forward with our life.  Sometimes feelings resolve as we move forward with more wisdom and creativity than before.
 
Your stories matter.  Are you beginning to see how that is true? 
The story that lives in you shapes who you believe yourself to be (as well as who you believe God and others to be).  It also shapes the way you tell stories about yourself to others.

Says Gertrud Mueller Nelson, in Here All Dwell Free, “Know your story, or your story will live you.”  If we don't know the story we are living, we can easily get caught up in or be entrapped by our feelings of resentment, bitterness, and anger.  They can define us by becoming the soil out of which our story grows. 

Misunderstanding, hurt, harm, suffering...they are all a part of life.  Everyone’s story includes them.  But not everyone allows them to be transformed. 
 
Maybe it’s time to revisit your stories or to write down the names of people in those stories who have caused you harm.  Then consider what God has done and is doing with and through those stories.  You might be surprised.  

A beautiful re-storying is found in the book of Genesis in the story of Joseph and his brothers (a powerful retelling is found in Stephen Mitchell’s book, Joseph and the Way of Forgiveness).  After being sold into slavery by his own brothers due to jealousy, years later a famine forces them to seek food in Egypt, where Joseph, who was once a slave, has risen to power and is now in charge of the food supply.  He recognizes them, though they don’t recognize him so he plans a creative way for the revelation to occur.  His God’s-eye view of his own story allows the present story to unfold with compassion and creativity rather than revenge. Or maybe that is the best kind of revenge! 

After the surprising reveal, Joseph invites his brothers into God’s larger story of redemption when he tells them, “Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good” (Genesis 50:20).  He does not pretend the harm did not happen, he just transforms the harm.
    
Harm happens and usually people don’t mean to harm you (you’re just in the way of their happiness) but sometimes people do. Either way, you are not condemned to your story of suffering, a new story awaits.  Will you join in the ongoing work of the Author of Life in transforming your story?    

How does your body let you know? 

Here's how mine lets me know that the chaos is starting to overwhelm:
My... 
...eyes feel strained and tired.
...brain feels like an electrical storm of overstimulation.
...breathing is shallow or I'm holding my breath.
...adrenaline surges, making it hard to be still.
...chest feels heavy and tight with anxiety.
...shoulders and neck get tense.
...head begins to ache from all of the above! 
 
This is a sure sign to me that it’s time to step away from the phone, stop scrolling through social media, or reading/watching/listening to the news.  I won’t find what I’m really looking (or longing for) anyway! 
 
And no, I'm not not talking dissociation (disconnecting with reality) and ignoring what is going on in the world.  I'm talking about connecting with reality as it is experienced and revealed by our bodies so that we can connect to reality as it is outside of our bodies in a healthy way.   

What if we asked ourselves, "Who is the me I'm bringing to the world (and to the issues at hand)?"  Am I bringing my frantic, survival self or my grounded, truer self?  Which would you prefer, by the way?

How do we do we connect with our true self (hint: not through more social media or news!)? 
By diving under the chaotic surface of the waves (remember they’re connected to the calming deep but few venture to go there!), we discover our truer self.  In the deep we surprisingly find we’re able to breathe, rest (physically & more!), and receive what’s next (or what isn’t next).
 
Instead of my frazzled, overstimulated, chaotic mind making decisions, I can bring to the world (& all its issues) the contemplative mind…the mind of Christ.
 
So here’s some permission.  Dive (or if you’re extremely tired, sink) into the deep for a while. 
 
Still don’t know how?  Are you breathing as you read this?  That is your starting place.  Then maybe some Spiritual Direction for further exploration.   

“Must be hard being 10 and already going through dark night of the soul,” 14-year-old, Lainey, said as the two of us drove back from her fencing lessons.   
 
Her comment about her brother caught me off guard.
 
As a Spiritual Director, I companion adults going through Dark Night of the Soul, but I had not considered how children may, too.  I know that children suffer depression which in adults can coincide with Dark Night, but I had not seen Dark Night through a child’s eyes (even though our most memorable moments with God often happen when we are children).
 
For those not familiar with the concept, Dark Night is a stage in the spiritual journey that Saint John of the Cross experienced and wrote about in the 16th century.  He gave words to the “spiritual crisis” that occurs for those seeking union with God or to embody Perfect Love. 
 
Whether happening gradually or initiated through a tragedy or hardship, Dark Night can be felt as emptiness and dryness.  Our go-to spiritual practices no longer “work.”  Those activities and places of belonging that once brought us enjoyment, no longer do so.  We suffer disappointment, doubt, disorientation, discomfort, disillusionment, and even the utter disintegration of our thoughts and feelings about God, ourselves, and life.  In experiencing this loss and grief, depression can occur. 
 
We ask questions like, “Who am I?”  “Who and where is God?”  “What’s going on?”  “Why can’t things go back to ‘normal’?”  “What is normal anyway?”  “Will this ever end?”
 
This liminal space is entered into many times in our lives as we find ourselves in places and situations we would rather not be (like in a pandemic!).  We are in that “in-between” of who we were before and who will be after…it’s definitely uncomfortable.  My 10-year-old joins the rest of the planet in this communal Dark Night of the Soul.
 
He’s asking, “Who am I?”  “Who are my friends?” “Do I even have friends anymore?” “Will friends recognize me when I do go back to school?”  “Is virtual school even school?” “Will I ever play baseball or basketball again?”  “Will I even love sports again?”  “Things are too stressful in the world right now, is it always going to be like this?”
 
Now here’s what makes Dark Night different from depression.  When depressed, it’s a good idea to seek counseling and/or receive medication which hopefully helps us emerge from the darkness of depression with great relief.  And while there may be inner relief from the suffering (which is something to celebrate), there may not be inner transformation.  One may be grateful to simply return to oneself.        
 
During a Dark Night, rather than seeking a way out of the darkness, we are led deeper into it (a Spiritual Director is really helpful in the dark!).  This is the place where God loosens our attachments to all we may mistake for God, life, and our true selves. 

It can be painful to have these attachments revealed and painful to let go of them.  After all, we might really love being known as the athlete, whether spiritual or baseball!  We might cherish the feeling we get in imaging and relating to God in a certain way. 
 
However, when we emerge from Dark Night, we not only find relief but we are also transformed.  We no longer see or exist in the world in the same way we did prior to the darkness.  In other words, we do not return to ourselves, but are a new, truer Self!           
 
An expanded heart is the fruit of the Dark Night.  We see God, ourselves, and the world in deeper and wider ways and we are free to love God, ourselves, and the world in deeper and wider ways.
 
A different 14-year-old girl shared an image that came to her during our Girls’ Group-time of listening to the instrumental song, Unfolding.  It offers a beautiful and striking image of what it’s like to come through Dark Night of the Soul:

Anxiety.  Anger.  Heaviness.  Headache.  Nausea.  Nerve-pain.  Tension. Tears.  
My 14-year-old woke up way too early this morning and as we met in the hallway both of us bleary-eyed, she said, “Ugh, I’m feeling everyone’s collective stuff.”  “I hear you,” I replied.
 
This is normal.  We are all interconnected so you’re not alone today if you are feeling more than your normal share in this liminal space.  Jesus felt his people’s collective pain.  He shares in our suffering. 
 
However, at this point, unlike Jesus, we often go searching outside ourselves for a remedy that can only come from a deeper place within.  Understandably, we want a quick fix.  We want to feel better and we want others to feel better.  
 
So we are apt to compulsively scan the horizons of social media, news, books (even the most holy ones!), and other people (even the most holy ones!) looking for “good news” or at least a reminder that we are not the only burden-bearers.  But no amount of memes, quotes, or conversations can offer what that pit in our stomach is crying out for.
 
It knows something, that discomfort, that pain.  It has stories to share (for our bodies hold memory).  You actually don’t need any new insights, you need to trust the ones you already have!  So what do you already have?  What do you know in your depths?  I trust you know something to be true in your bones.  What is it?    
 
Here are some additional ways to listen to the wisdom within (God’s own Spirit dwelling within your own being, your own story, your own body).

• What if you turn toward the pain rather than ignore it or look for a way out of it?  You might tenderly place your hand where you are experiencing physical or emotional discomfort and listen.  For example, what is the tension in your chest saying to you?  What happens to the pain or sensation as you gently acknowledge it and “listen”?
• What stories from your own life (or stories from your family/ancestors) offer guidance as to living in and walking through hardship?  What sustained you/them? 
• When you imagine the current state of things as an ocean, what do you observe?  Where are you in the scene?  What is your experience on the surface/under the surface? Do you have any awareness of the Sacred Presence?  What insights are being offered? 

By the way, when I asked my daughter what she knew to be true in her bones, her worried brow immediately softened as perennial wisdom rushed from the depths to the surface.  She sang,  "Don't worry about a thing. 'Cause every little thing gonna be alright." 

Bob Marley, Julian of Norwich, Saint Paul, and Jesus, would all agree.  

I told a friend the other day that as more political signs go up around me, the angrier I become.  Most assuredly I wouldn’t be as angry if they aligned with my own ideology…how telling! 
 
My reaction reminds me of the immense draw to live on the level of agreement. 
Do I agree or disagree?  If the latter, criticism comes quickly followed by detaching from the author, politician, doctor, Facebook friend, family member, neighbor…write them off…case closed, act as if everything is fine.     

But this kind of dissociation never works for me in the long run.  It's not case closed.  Pretending, ignoring, and stuffing feelings ultimately turns into back pain and headaches which is not loving myself (which then leads to the inability to truly love my neighbor).  See last week's post for more on loving oneself.
 
The growing rift, polarization, and lack of neighborliness leads me to ask, “Who is my neighbor?” 
I can’t help but think of Jesus’ parable of an enemy coming to one’s rescue in a time of need (see The Good Samaritan).  Or his words in the famous Sermon on the Mount,
 
“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you…" Matthew 5: 43-44
 
Ugh.  How do you actually do this?

Realizing that we see our own reflection in the faces of others—both the shadow and the light—can add to the pressure.   The shadow within is hard enough to face, it can be twice as hard when I see it in the face of others (if I’m even willing to admit I do)!
 
Who wants to admit that the narcissism detested in someone else can be a mirror reflecting the narcissism residing within one's self?  Note: This doesn’t excuse or downplay the narcissistic actions by the other. 
 
When Jesus boldly expanded on his Jewish lineage saying that not only are our neighbors those who belong to our family/group and those on the margins of our family/group, but so are our enemies, it must have stunned his audience. 

Even though it was consistent with his teachings about the Kingdom of God and  his prayer that life on earth reflect life in heaven, we sadistically like the idea of some people not being included.        

But the love of God includes everyone. Jesus reminds his listeners, right after telling them to love their enemies,  that God sends rain for those who do right and those who do wrong.  And like the moon reflects the sun, we're to reflect God.     

So how do we integrate the shadow and light of others, especially that of our enemies?  And why should we even try?
   
 When it comes to why, enemy-hating takes up a lot of space in our inner world.  It crowds out what is life-giving. 

Jesus knew the fruit that hate bears.  ​It depletes our inner energy and resources, crippling our ability to live a life of Love within and without. ​

Whoever we hate holds power over us.  When we release the hate, we release their power over us, and free up that energy to love.  Hatred, like love, may start out small (one act or one person), but it quickly overflows into everything and everyone. 

So again, what are we to do?  How can we begin to release criticism, anger, and hate?
 
Since curiosity is helping me release the anger and criticism toward myself, I’ve been experimenting with curiosity in the shift toward loving my neighbor/enemy. 

What might happen if I chose curiosity over criticism with my "neighbor"?     
 
Another political sign went up, this time with a flag on the porch of someone I’ve never met.  Going past their residence, I looked at the signage and their house with curiosity: 

• I wonder what has led this person to put the sign in their yard along with a flag on their porch.  Why both and not just one?
• I’m curious, why are they so passionate about this person being elected?  What are they afraid will happen if this person isn’t elected?
• Is there a particular issue that is close to their heart? 
• Are they friends with anyone who believes differently?  If so, what are their conversations like?
• If I (or my kids) were in trouble, I wonder what they would do.  

 
After a few wonderings & questions (without providing hypothetical answers!), I found my face softening and a willingness to actually have a real conversation rather than a hardening and hiding in my anger.  Honestly, I was surprised.
 
I experimented with a friend when the conversation turned to politics and we wanted to criticize a group of people.  When we shifted to curiosity, the critique faded.  Surprise again!
   
The most recent opportunity happened when someone disagreed with my schooling choice for my kids.  I asked some questions instead of focusing on defending myself.  They began asking questions.  We left the conversation still having differing opinions, but smiling and looking forward to future conversations.
 
Curiosity may be the spiritual practice for this season. 

May it be a step on the path of peace, a way of wisdom, a beginning in embodying the love of God, especially toward all of those putting up political signs!