Evicting the Confederacy: Cleaning House to Make Way for Change

This past week, as the United States was grappling with George Floyd’s murder and waking up to its racist history in ways that are long overdue, I was waking up to the fact that the subjects of much of the art that came with this ancient mountain house of ours were Confederate generals, venerated for defending slavery. 

How did I walk by the hulking image of Stonewall Jackson every night as I entered my bedroom and not shudder? How did I not take offense to the two different Robert E. Lee likenesses downstairs? I’ll tell you how. Denial brought to you by privilege.

It was much easier to see-while-not-really-seeing. I knew the people who owned the house before us were “art people.” They apparently bought “good” art that I felt grateful was being left behind along with everything else, down to the silverware, when we bought the house almost a decade ago. I never thought to question the art’s subject matter, the message it conveyed or the energy it was putting into our home. I was just happy I didn’t have to decorate.

Let me summarize. I found it acceptable to ignore images of slavery defenders hanging on my own walls because it saved me time and energy in the decorating department. I didn’t examine the art because on some level I knew it wasn’t in line with my values. I could look away because my family tree was not ripped apart by the enslavement the Confederate generals protected. 

It seems an irony of grand proportions that I would discover all this in perfect synchronicity with  this national time of reckoning for our country. That this would be the summer I finally opened my eyes looked at everything in this house. And really saw it for what it was.

I lead a women’s wellness check-in via Zoom every Wednesday (email me for access code), and this past week, I took Stonewall Jackson off the wall on camera as part of a discussion on discovering our own blind spots. Not everyone’s blind spots are as tangible (and as easily removed) as Confederate art, but it got us talking and sharing and wanting to get rid of anything in our emotional and spiritual houses that helps perpetuate the systemic racism in this country.

This led to discussions of inner and outer work to be done. The good news is there is much to do for those who want to be change agents. The flip side is the paralysis that can ensue when faced with so many ways to help combined with a fear of doing it “wrong.”

While I don’t have the answers and the most important voices to be listening to now are those whose families have endured the burden of racism for centuries, I can share with you what I’ve learned, from my own awakening-in-process and from watching others’. It’s my hope that if each of us shares a bit as we move through this, we can give some respite to overburdened people of color who are besieged with requests to help white people understand this issue and tell them how to fix it.  

The biggest takeaway I’ve had in recent weeks revolves around responding from a place of personal authenticity, rather than trying to conform to an idea of what we think an ally or activist “should” look like.

RESPOND CONGRUENTLY

What does that mean? It means you don’t have to become someone you are not to become an anti-racism activist. Your brand of activism doesn’t have to look like everyone else’s. It will be more effective if your anti-racism activism is congruent with who you are. Activism doesn’t necessarily mean taking to the streets in protest. Artist Ann Johnson spoke on this topic during the Awakening Movement’s Solace & Serenity service this morning. She said, “Let your art be your activism.” Let’s lean into that and let our lives be our activism.

If you are a reader… Read books by African American authors—non-fiction books on anti-racism, white fragility and allyship as well as novels that artistically portray the experience of being Black in America and elsewhere. My daughter took this a step further, ordering her copy of Layla Saad’s Me & White Supremacy from Mahogany Books, the premier online bookstore for African American books.

If you are a social media influencer… Use your platform to highlight voices of African Americans. Shine a spotlight on voices that your audience needs to hear. While you’re at it, diversify your feed. Whether you’re an influencer or just an avid scroller, you need voices of people of color included in the social media messaging you are absorbing.

If you are a gardener/artist/baker… Buy your supplies from Black-owned businesses. My friend Jenn researched and posted a list of Black-owned gardening centers in and around Seattle. This is a perfect example of turning your life—the one you’re already living—into activism. 

If you are an art-lover… Seek out work by African American artists—buy it, post it and go see exhibits of it as galleries and museums begin opening. And, per the opening of this post, if you own art that is not in line with your values, sell it and donate the proceeds to anti-racism organizations. And the blank places it leaves on your walls? Fill it with art from those African American artists you just discovered.

If you are religious… Find a diverse community within which to explore your faith. If you are worshipping God in a community that is devoid of racial diversity, you are creating a space where God is reflected only in whiteness.

If you are a writer… Write blog posts, articles and opinion pieces, pointing to the work and words of people of color. Align yourself with or collaborate with writers of color to ensure your perspective is not limited to your own lived experience. Promote writers of color in your circle of influence.

I will close by saying that the truest work we can all do right now is not to fabricate new lives for ourselves, but to live our existing lives with new consciousness and an ignited commitment to change. If you are a woman interested in a safe place to explore your own unexamined ideas about race and culture, my friend Tracie Jae (aka The Quiet Rebel) is hosting Hear Our Voices, a virtual space for grace-filled dialogue on race and culture this Saturday evening, June 13. I am one of her circle leaders, and I would love to see you there!

I know some of us are overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information, but I am including a select list of inspiring Black creators in the spiritual/artistic/justice realm who I have some personal connection to (I.e., they are friends, I’ve worked with them, or I’ve attended an event they’ve hosted). Please add your own suggestions in the comments.

Christena Cleveland (Author/Activist and Director for the Center for Justice + Renewal)

Tracie Jae (Founder, The Quiet Rebel)

Ann Johnson (Artist, Educator & Curator)

Jacqui Lewis (Pastor, Middle Church NYC)

Tia Norman (Pastor, Awakenings Movement Houston)

Yeye Luisah Teish (Author, Ritualist & Editorial Consultant)

Lanecia Rouse Tinsley (Artist)

The Lost Art of Curiosity

Note: This post was inspired by a Zoom session I led last week. Join me each Wednesday at 2 p.m. (Central) for a free Women’s Wellness Check-in here! On Tuesdays, you can tune into my co-host Sunita Tarkunde for Ayurvedic inspiration and Wednesday to co-host Ann Hyde for yogic wisdom. It is a wonderful 20-minute afternoon pick-me-up!

I was born curious. Literally. My parents both swear that I came into this world craning my neck to look around the hospital room trying to take in my post-womb surroundings. Somewhere along the way, I forgot that being curious meant being open, and I begin to dictate answers and opinions on the rightness and wrongness of things before basking in the pure non-judgement of curiosity.

So today I want to talk about the lost art of curiosity and how to recapture it.

I practice the forgotten art of curiosity on my yoga mat every time I let myself discover how a pose actually feels (often differently than my mind thinks it “should” feel). Certainly poses feel different in my body than they look to my eyes, especially in this world of Instagram yoga. I practice curiosity when experimenting with ayurveda (yoga’s sister science) which asks me to tune into the the rhythms at work in my body and in the world around me. These pursuits of mine require me to stay curious as a path to knowing myself.

But in everyday life, I sometimes forget to be curious, and I lapse into dualistic thinking. I begin listening to old tapes running through my head, pronouncing rightness or wrongness with such assurance, that I trust the pronouncement. When that happens, curiosity goes out the window, and with it, my sense of possibility.

Signs we’ve lost curiosity

There are signs that will let you know your curiosity has left the building. Look out for these saboteurs!

When you label something rather than observe it

My mind likes words, and it can be a bit obsessive in its desire to name (i.e. label) things. This, too, was a trait that showed up early for me. In fact, during my talkative toddler stage, I was known to make up words for things on the spot, speaking without pause, as if, naturally, everyone knew that “clock-a-bracelet” was the proper term for the time pieces people wore on their wrists. In my mind, naming meant understanding and, ultimately, control. Once we label something, we cease being curious about it because we have assigned letters of the alphabet to contain its meaning.

When you perceive things dualistically (black & white; all or nothing)

If I am seeing only two choices—this extreme or its opposite—I know I need to dig in with my curiosity and uncover my other options. There are always more than two extreme ways to resolve a situation. Each additional option I uncover using my curiosity lightens my mental load and helps we feel more freedom to make the right choice for me.

When you replace reality with stories

I like wrapping up life’s experiences into a pretty package topped with a lovely bow. What I’ve discovered is that when I do this, I limit my ability to learn from my past experiences. Why? Because I am no longer reflecting on the actual past experience but the story I have created about it. Are there parts of your past that you’ve cemented into stories? Bring some curiosity to them. Journal about what comes up about the differences between the actual memory and the story you created around it.

Ways to reclaim curiosity

The good news? There are steps you can take to rekindle your curiosity when you see these red flags.

Reframe “I can’t” into “How can I?”

“I can’t” is the ultimate red flag for growth seekers. These words shut down curiosity as well as any chance for succeeding at the task in question. Fellow yogi Cindy Novelo shared a story in her e-newsletter last week that brought this home in a powerful way. When Cindy’s adult daughter came to her, exhausted from caring for her three young children (two of them with special needs) during this time of isolation, Cindy was able to assure her daughter that by reframing her “I can’t” into a curiosity-filled question, she could find the support she needed to do what felt impossible in the moment. Ask yourself how you can do something that feels out of reach. What support do you need? What perfectionistic ideas can you let go of that would allow you to do the task well enough?

Reclaim “Why bother?” or “What’s the point?”

Try bringing genuine curiosity to these questions typically uttered rhetorically with an air of resignation. Author Jen Louden walks you through this process in her new book, Why Bother? For now, start by pondering why you would bother to tackle a project that you keep procrastinating. Are you avoiding it because it truly is not a priority or are unexamined fears holding you back? How would finding the motivation to bother with this task serve you or others? Your curiosity will be the force that moves you out of a holding pattern—in one direction or another!

Realign with your breath

My inclination is to process my curiosity exclusively in the domain of my mind. To conceive questions and ruminate or meditate on the answers. Without involving the body, however, my curiosity is incomplete—one-dimensional. Thank goodness for wise teachers in my life like Ann Hyde, Sunita Tarkunde and Ashby Underwood who remind me to tap into the wisdom of my body through simple practices of breath awareness. Find ways to be curious with your body as well as your mind.

Here’s to using our bodies, minds and spirits to reclaim the lost art of curiosity in our lives! Hope to see you on Zoom for our Women’s Wellness Check-In on Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday at 2 p.m. (Central)!

The Opposite of Obscurity

Five years ago—almost to the minute—I crumpled to the ground after a phone call that knocked the breath out of me. There are a few times in each of our lives when we surrender the pretext of civility—when we go off script and operate from a part of us that never sees the light of day—usually because we have to, not because we want to. We have, literally, reached the end of our rope. 

I discovered that place of pure instinct when I was giving birth to my children and found myself there again when I fell to the ground that day, trying to understand that my sister Angie who I had talked to that morning, had died suddenly in an accident. I wasn’t cognitively trying to understand what had happened. I was sinking deep into a reality beyond my control without a shred of intellectualizing. 

For once, I was not worrying about what I should do. I just let go and fell. 

In the days that followed, I moved through life feeling like I had a foot on both sides of the veil. Goddess was close and Angie was too. They helped me navigate life’s most mundane tasks. For several nights, a cloud hung over my bed. When I couldn’t stop the tears or the migraine barreling close behind them, the cloud would descend and put my right to sleep. The fact that a magic cloud was putting me to sleep seemed no more absurd than the rest of the reality I’d been plunged into. 

Two days after her death, I needed to perform Tooth Fairy duties for my son. After several minutes of groping around in the dark for the tooth, I was in tears, bereft that I could not perform this one duty. Then something brushed my hair and hit the floor with a clunk. Reaching toward the sound, I found a bolt had landed on the floor right beside the elusive tooth that had escaped its spot under the pillow. We used to call Angie MacGyver because her creatively scientific brain could make something out of nothing. Apparently, in her new form, she can make bolts fall from thin air.

I thanked her. Like she was really there. Because she was. As excruciating as those early days without her were, I miss the thinness of the veil that allowed me to glimpse her and Goddess and a different way of being, one that was much more in tune with eternal truth than earthly reality propelled by schedules, tasks and productivity. I lived there with her by my side for a few magical days. 

Then I started to forget. Not to forget her, but to forget the mystical way back to her. She reminded me sometimes. Occasionally with the magnificent splendor of a falling star. But more often with a dinged up metal nut or washer that would appear in my path as I went about my day—the match to the original bolt. Some people hear from their loved ones through red birds or butterflies. Angie’s language was hardware.

A few months ago, I found the last one. I held the dingy metal disc in my hand, relieved to have heard from her after a period of silence. Then, our dog lunged at a squirrel, yanking the leash in my hand and sending the nut flying into the grass. I searched and I searched. Falling to the ground on my hands and knees, not unlike the day I lost her. It was gone, and I knew that this was the end of this conversation. I was weeping over the lost hunk of metal as if it were a treasure. Because it was.

Today, I went to see a medium because it seemed like the best way I could think of to spend this impossible day. I wanted to open up the conversation with Angie again. If she was done leaving me signs, I would track her down. There are many things the medium told me that I am still processing, but the last things she said stuck with me. “Stop looking for me in the obscure.” Is there any more obscure way to encounter one’s sister than in a nut and bolt? 

Part of me will always be looking for her. But now I will l look for her where she is. Right there. Out in the open. The opposite of obscurity. By my side.

Black History: More than a Month

A little over a week into Black History month and we’ve witnessed some booms and some busts as companies roll out their Black History Month initiatives. Barnes & Noble has already backed out of its Diverse Editions campaign after critics—justifiably—dubbed it literary blackface. The program, rather than promoting books actually written by Black authors, featured a dozen classic books (eleven written by white authors) updated to include people of color on the cover. The books’ contents remained unchanged.

The problem? Whiteness remained centered under a veneer of inclusion.

So how do we move beyond the veneer and into real inclusion? I’m going to lay out a three-pronged approach to get us started. The first will help us adjust the whitewashed worldview we may be absorbing and the second will set up on the road to acknowledging our own role in maintaining racism and the third will open up an honest dialog rather than continuing to pretend we are colorblind.

YOUR MEDIA DIET: WHAT MESSAGES ARE YOU INGESTING?

Begin by examining the media you consume each day. Take a look at everything that mediates and helps construct your worldview—podcasts, books, magazines, websites, blogs, social media, TV shows, music and games. Grab a sheet of paper and make a list. How much of what you consume has a significant Black influence (I.e., producer, author, editor, webmaster, actor/actresses)? How much of it is almost exclusively centered in whiteness? Take a look at your Instagram, Facebook and Twitter friends. How many people of color do you follow? Is it time to diversify the lives and perspective you glimpse each time you scroll?

This first step is basically an inventory. This is the data gathering that will help you make changes. No more denial. Once you know that what you’re choosing to feed your brain lacks diversity of perspective, the ball is in your court. You can change it or not, but you can no longer pretend you are exposing yourself to diversifying influences when your are not. If diversity and inclusion are your goals, consuming Black-influenced media is one of your strategies. What goes in to your brain, will show up in your life.

I track my reading on Goodreads, providing an easy way to go back and analyze who and what I’m reading. I have made a concerted effort over the past few years to read more authors of color. Even with that intention, I am hovering around the 20% mark on diversity within my reading list. If I included LGQBT authors, I could bump my diversity rating a bit, but for the sake of this examination, let’s just look at racial diversity (mine includes Black, Hispanic and Asian authors). I want to do better than 20%. Now I know. I have a baseline and can improve my stats. There’s a lot I can’t control about racial diversity and inclusion in the world. The voices I allow in my head are completely under my control.

So, here’s where I want to highlight a company doing Black History Month right. Insight Timer, a popular app that provide both free and premium guided meditations and other personal enrichment courses and lectures, is actually amplifying the voices of Black teachers on its app. When I logged in to search for a meditation, a pop up alerted me that they were featuring meditations by Black teachers this month. It appears that they actually altered their search algorithm to improve the visibility of the offerings of Black contributors. They did not just slap up some diverse-looking images on their site, they promoted the Black voices within their community. They actually help put Black voices into our minds via powerful meditation.

EDUCATE YOURSELF: WHEN YOU KNOW BETTER, YOU CAN DO BETTER

First, I am not writing this because I have done all the work. I am writing this to acknowledge all the work I still have to do and to point you to some women who are writing books, teaching courses and giving lectures that can start you on your own journey. This is where I need to pause and caution you to please not pop over to their Instagram or Facebook pages and start gushing about their work and asking lots of questions. What I have learned is that just adds a bunch of unnecessary white centering to the online spaces that they have so carefully curated. There is so much content they have already produced for you to dig into and work through. And compensate them for their work. How? Buy their books, buy tickets to their lectures, sign up for their online classes, or become a Patreon supporter of their work. So, with no further ado, I’d like to introduce you to three of my favorite antiracism change agents:

Dr. Christena Cleveland…Christena Cleveland Ph.D. is a social psychologist, public theologian, author, and activist. She is the founder and director of the recently-launched Center for Justice + Renewal, a non-profit dedicated to helping justice advocates sharpen their understanding of the social realities that maintain injustice while also stimulating the soul’s enormous capacity to resist and transform those realities. Committed to leading both in scholarly settings and in the public square, Christena writes regularly, speaks widely, and consults with organizations.

I connected with Christena while working on Original Resistance, the Lilith anthology I co-edited. She was doing a Black Madonna tour through France right before I visited last summer. She inspired me to track down the Black Madonna (circa 1300) at the Chapelle Notre-Dame-de-la-Bonne-Délivrance, the motherhouse of the Sisters of St. Thomas of Villanova. I was drawn to Christena’s work because she connects the process of releasing ourselves from the bonds of the White Male God with racial justice. Christena wrote a powerful introduction to Original Resistance, proclaiming, “We must traverse the annals of history to unearth the sacred sites that have been violently gentrified by white patriarchy.”

Rachel Cargle…Rachel Cargle is a public academic, writer, and lecturer. Her activism and academic work are rooted in providing intellectual discourse, tools, and resources that explore the intersection of race and womanhood. Her social media platforms boast a community of over 315k where Rachel guides conversations, encourages critical thinking and nurtures meaningful engagement with people all over the world.

Rachel’s message is deeply challenging and often uncomfortable for her white followers. She is a disruptor who points out blind spots and sets healthy boundaries around her work. Come to her Instagram page as your own jumping off point, not to have your hand held. I have been participating in her Black History Month Challenge which includes daily prompts on specific areas to research ourselves. I have spent about ten minutes a day following her leads. I found a particularly insightful panel discussion on C-SPAN during the Emancipation Compensation Act prompt which I ended up listening to for an hour. The specific dynamics happening in D.C. just before Lincoln signed the Emancipation Act were so much more complicated than I’d imagined.

Layla Saad…Layla Saad is a globally respected writer, speaker and podcast host on the topics of race, identity, leadership, personal transformation and social change. She is the author of Me and White Supremacy and the creator/host of The Good Ancestor podcast. I subscribe to Layla’s podcast and was one of the nearly hundred thousand people who downloaded her Me & White Supremacy Workbook before it was traditionally published this year. She just finished her U.S. book tour and I was sad to be out of town for her Houston stop at Brazos Books. Subscribe to her podcast, The Good Ancestor, her conversations with change-makers and culture-shapers never disappoint!

All three of these dynamic women offer exclusive content to their supporters on Patreon. For $10 a month (or more if you’re so moved), you can contribute to their work and further your own work around racial injustice.

DON’T FEIGN COLORBLINDNESS: TALK ABOUT IT

As tempting as it is the pull the “I don’t see race” card to avoid difficult and honest conversations about race, don’t do it. Seek out spaces that take you out of your comfort zone and allow you to engage in real talk about race rather than pretending it doesn’t exist. I was recently at a party at the home of a friend where I was one of only two white people in a group of thirty or so. We had the best conversation about Friends (yes, the TV show) when two of the women I was talking to admitted they were big fans. Another woman chimed in, “No offense, but you two are the only Black women I’ve ever met who like that show.”

That led us to a discussion about the whiteness of the cast and general lack of diverse perspectives. One woman said she didn’t blame the show because they were merely reflecting the lack of interracial friendships among young professional in Manhattan at that time. With a shrug, she said a multiethnic cast wouldn’t have been believable. Another pointed out that the whole premise of the show was directly taken from Queen Latifah’s Living Single which premiered in 1993, a year before Friends made its debut. And that led me to research and come across J-Z’s short film Moonlight (aka, outtakes from a Black version of Friends). So, yes, even conversations about topics of insignificant as your favorite television shows can be insightful if you have them with people of different backgrounds and dive below the surface.

Which leads me to my final recommendation. Seek out organized events that cultivate these types of dialogs. For years, I have attended one called the Pink Iftar, an interfaith dinner where an incredibly diverse group of women share a meal and conversation as part of the Muslim observation of Ramadan.

If you live in Houston, let me share with you one such event happening this month. My dear friend Tracie Jae (aka The Quiet Rebel) has curated an evening called 100 Voices: Women’s Dinner Dialogue on Race & Culture on Saturday, February 29 at Interfaith Ministries of Greater Houston. She is gathering 100 women (10 tables of 10 women) for a grace-filled guided dinner dialogue on race and culture. On her motivation for creating the event, Tracie says, “So often our discussions these subjects happen in a vacuum and we recycle our same understanding without hearing from others who may see the world through a different lens. 100 Voices is designed to offer a safe space for a difficult conversation.” Secure your spot at the table here.

So instead of posting a touchingly captioned photo of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Rosa Parks or President Obama, invest a little more time this month bringing diversity into your life through the people you follow, the shows you watch and the books you read; by supporting one or more of the change-makers churning out the content that will propel us into the realm of antiracism; and finding or creating safe spaces to talk honestly about race and culture with people outside your own ethnic identity. The effects will last well beyond this month!

Claim Your Worth in 2020

Let me just acknowledge that this post is out of my comfort zone. I like talking about deep, heartfelt awakenings in this space. I like sharing ways that shifting our vision can profoundly change our experiences. I don’t really like talking about how people like me who devote themselves to this kind of work are compensated (or not) for the work they do.

I am writing about this now because I’ve had a deep, heartfelt awakening that it’s time for me to value what I do in the world enough to make sure I’m compensated for it. Maybe you’re in a similar spot. Women, in particular, tend to give much of their energy away in this world. When we mother, we’re not looking for a paycheck that acknowledges the kick ass job we’re doing raising responsible humans. We just do it.

But sometimes that benevolent spirit spills over into the rest of our lives and we find we have forgotten that there is value to our contributions. Correcting this imbalance is more about claiming our worth than claiming our paycheck. And this inner dynamic looks different depending on your circumstances and stage of life.

If you are in the trenches of mothering little ones, it might be valuing your contributions even when you’re not earning a paycheck. In practical terms, this could look like investing in your own well-being (think yoga studio membership or housekeeping help) and not feeling a shred of guilt about it because you recognize the value of your contributions. If you are in a high-stress job, it could be recognizing that you deserve blocks of time when you are off your electronic leash. Your well-being demands space to recoup and regroup. You are worth it.

If you are in your later years, it may look like taking on new challenges and recognizing that your wealth of experience makes your work more—not less—valuable. My mom, in her 70s, has been asked to illustrate a book. She just called to ask me what the going rate was for illustrators. I didn’t know, but I reached out to one of the best illustrators I know (Arna Baartz) to ask. Because our work is worth it. We are worth it.

One pitfall to avoid in this process is self-blame should your work not be valued (monetarily or otherwise) by others. Your are not spiritually off-kilter if the money or accolades are not flowing in. This is my problem with the Law of Attraction philosophy. Claiming your worth is an inside job. The outside rewards are not an indication of your spiritual fitness. You can run around all day long aligning chakras, lighting up your aura and carrying around the “right” crystal. There is nothing wrong with these pursuits. I do them all!

But do not fall into the trap of thinking that you can smudge away your worth problems with the right amount of sage. Yes, meditate. Yes, keep your vibrations high. But don’t assume you have missed the magic unicorn bullet if the world doesn’t respond the way you anticipated.

As I began focusing on ways to monetize my work more effectively, I decided to reach out to an editor of a major publishing house who once vowed he would publish my work before he retired. Guess what? He’s retired. Does that mean I made some cosmic mistake by waiting to reach out to him? I don’t think so. Was I disappointed? You bet. But I have to think that my discovering this during the same week I began this worth-quest is significant.

Other opportunities, though, have fallen into my lap once I set this intention, including an exciting collaboration with Montrose Yoga Coop and one down the road with the Houston Ayurveda Center and my yoga teacher Ann Hyde. In the coming weeks, I’ll be leading Lilith Circles in yoga studios and bookstores in Houston and North Carolina. I am excited about helping women embody the wisdom found in the pages of Original Resistance: Reclaiming Lilith, Reclaiming Ourselves. The first of this year’s offerings is happening at Body Mind & Soul this Sunday, 1/19 @ 3 p.m. I would love to see you there. At this moment, that is my work. I am claiming it and valuing it.

So, I have to ask you—what is your work and how are you valuing it?

No matter your age or stage of life, you have something to contribute, and it is valuable. As we move into 2020 armed with our word, resolutions or vision, let’s cloak ourselves in worthiness, knowing that what we bring to the world is valuable.

Reclaiming Ourselves: One Choice at a Time

Labor Day has passed, and I can no longer use the summer card, by which I mean, the mindset I’ve cultivated over my 22 years as a parent that there is no need for order or routine from June to August because IT IS SUMMER for goodness sake!

I have settled one kid back into her new college digs and the other into his boarding school dorm room. Back in my parenting-from-a-distance mode, I realized that my own self care and daily rhythm have suffered during all the fun we had this summer. I have abandoned those touchstones that keep me sane, and it’s time to get them back in my life.

I don’t think I’m alone in succumbing to this selective amnesia when it comes to making choices that are good for me vs. fun in the moment. Most of us actually know what’s good for us. We don’t need new information. We just need to let our bodies and souls help us remember what we’ve forgotten.

If you, too, are feeling untethered as you traverse the space between summer and fall, read on for ideas on getting yourself back on track without beating yourself up for all the fun you had this summer! First stop? Let’s look at the beginning and end of our day. How we start and end our days has a profound impact on everything that goes between the two.

Let’s start with just these daily bookends. What’s the first thing you do each day and the last? For me, I’ve gotten into the habit of picking up my phone first thing in the morning and binge-watching shows at day’s end. These are not habits that serve me well. If I resist the urge to reach for my phone first thing and sit quietly and listen, what practices emerge of choices that would move me toward a state of groundedness? Your answer will be different from mine, but here’s what comes up for me as a nourishing morning routine:

1. Don’t touch the phone.

2. Go to the kitchen and make warm lemon water. Keep resisting the phone.

3. Head upstairs to my yoga room. Leave the phone downstairs.

4. Practice yoga intuitively, just moving as my body wants to move (10-30 minutes).

5. Meditate for 5-10 minutes.

6. Read something spiritual for 5 minutes.

7. Journal for 5 minutes.

That is an hour upon waking that would feed my soul instead of feeding my craving for information (Instagram & Twitter) and distraction (word games). I write this as much as a reminder to me as a jumping off point for you. Somewhere in that quiet place deep inside, you know how to start your day in a way that’s congruent with your truest self. I’m just here to urge you to listen up to your wise self!

So, you do you all day long. We’re not going to overhaul your whole schedule now—just the beginning and the end. I have had a sacred end-of-day ritual that I rarely compromise, but by the end of this summer, even that was not happening. I need to light candles, give myself a warm oil massage and soak in the bath. I have not been doing any of these things, instead opting to catch up on my “guilty pleasure” shows like Bachelor in Paradise and Younger. My sacred bathroom space is a mess as I’ve not fully unpacked from one adventure before packing for another. The resulting piles are making me avoid my sanctuary that’s feeling more like a storage area than my private retreat. So, here’s my plan for ditching the late night TV and easing back into my peaceful slumber routine.

1. Clean up my bathroom, setting the stage for the rituals to return.

2. Screen time cut-off of 9 p.m. Leave phone charging in the kitchen.

3. Light candles and warm my oil at 9:15

4. Abhyanga (warm oil self-massage) at 9:30

5. Bath at 9:45.

6. In bed reading a book by 10:15.

Both my morning and evening routines are made up of mindful activities that help me reclaim my time and, in the process, my soul. Scrolling mindlessly or trying to beat one more high score on a word game were robbing me of starting each day connecting with my inner wisdom. And my escapist TV habit was taking the place of true self care.

If you are looking for some reading material to take to bed with you after you turn off your phone for the evening, may I suggest my newest book baby, Original Resistance: Reclaiming Lilith, Reclaiming Ourselves? Through poetry, essays and art, this anthology will light fires within you that will illuminate a path back to your truest self. Luminaries including Sue Monk Kidd, Mirabai Starr and HeatherAsh Amara are singing this book’s praises. And a free small group study guide is available here. The facilitator welcome and first three sessions are up, with the remaining six sessions coming soon.

Here’s to falling mindfully into some new habits together!

Sacred Detours: Lose Your Way to Find It

So I’ve been wrestling with the question of whether or not my husband and I—empty nested after our 15-year-old left for boarding school this past fall—needed to get ourselves back to church. Not whether we “should” (because I’m done shoulding on myself), but whether sitting in a pew on Sunday would strengthen or hamper our connection to the divine and, not insignificantly, to each other.

I’ve been asking and listening, while still proceeding as if the task of finding the answer was mine alone . I do this a lot. I ask for divine guidance, and then I grab the reins and gallop away, my hair streaming behind me, God’s answer floating, barely audible, on the wind whipping around me.

But sometimes, the wind dies down, making space for the whisper and for mystical moments—by which I simply mean direct, unmediated encounters with God. To clarify, these are never orchestrated by me. They usually happen in spite of me and always involve God showing up when I least expect it. All I do is notice and acquiesce.

That is the space I found myself in this past weekend. My plan? Attend a meeting of a group I belong to that was being held at the church we’ve attended for a decade but which we haven’t been to with any regularity in several years. The meeting was not related to church or religion, and, as it turns out, it was actually scheduled for the following weekend. Yep. I had my dates wrong, so I showed up, wandering the familiar halls, looking at my kids’ confirmation group photos near the youth area, wondering why the janitor and I seemed to be the only two people in the entire building on this Sunday afternoon.

Once I realized my error, I meandered back toward the exit. But before I reached it, I saw a flickering out of the corner of my eye. In the deserted chapel—the small, cozy worship space I had always favored over the cavernous sanctuary—one candle was burning in a bank of tea lights at the front near the altar. And I knew—just knew—that it was burning for me.

Feeling a bit like a trespasser, but too intrigued to stop myself, I cracked open the door and ducked inside. Kicking off my slides and creeping toward the altar, I entertained a brief reverie about how, exactly, this one candle came to be lit hours after the last service ended. And whether I should blow it out in the name of fire safety.

This kind of practical thinking, friends, is what causes us to miss the mystical moments that come our way.

Fire codes be damned, I approached the bank of candles and brazenly lit the tea light next to the one already burning. In that act, I linked my intention to the greater mystery. I ceased wondering how and why simply joined my light with the divine one burning for no good reason.

Except maybe the good reason was me.

That was the point of this whole detour. And the point of me retelling it to you. Sometimes God diverts us for the express purpose of helping us remember that there is more to this world than the practical, the material and the logical.

Sometimes the answers to the questions we ask of God come wrapped up in these detours. Don’t miss them because they weren’t in your roadmap for the day.

Also, God’s answers are sometimes more of a knowing than an actual directive. After spending a half an hour contemplating my candles, I sensed that there was actually no right or wrong answer to the question I’d been asking. God doesn’t have a preference as to what pew I sit in or which church it’s located within. Just that I sit and listen regularly.

Amen. Namaste. Shalom. Salam.

When Faulty Archetypes Sabotage Our Resolutions

I didn't make any resolutions, exactly. Or pick one perfect word to sum up my 2018. But I did listen for guidance, and my mandate became clear in that way that is too synchronistic and flowing to just be my own awesome planning. This year, I am supposed find my core, my essence, and stay close to it. 

In practical terms that looks like adding a daily 20-minute home yoga practice focused on building a fierce core (with breath and body). It looks like a weekly class with a new teacher I stumbled upon who teaches Viniyoga, a practice that uses postures and breath to find balance between sthira (steady and alert) and sukha (comfortable and light). It means keeping up my Wednesday Forrest Yoga inspired class with my wise teacher Ann Hyde. It means saying no to people, opportunities and even objects that pull me away from my core (so much decluttering coming!) It means constructing a support system of writers to help me make this novel of mine a reality. 

All of this focusing and centering, however, will be for naught if my worldview is shaped by archetypes that don't want me to find my center—to find what's most life-giving to me. If you are reading this from any Western country, like it or not, you have likely adopted Adam and Eve as your internal representation of inherent masculinity and femininity. You may not believe their story or accept their gender modeling in an intellectual capacity, but their DNA is deeply embedded in our cultural understanding of what it means to be male and female. 

So, if Eve is my starting point, as much as I may want to live in alignment with my core truth, I have been programmed to live in alignment with others' core truths. Eve was not created to know herself. She was created to help another know himself. With this as my paradigm, I am doomed to failure. I am unable to carry out that divinely orchestrated call to stay closely tethered to my essential self. 

The way out of this quandary is quite simple (not easy, but simple). We need new ideas about women's divine origins. We need a new first woman. Lucky for us, there is one waiting in the wings. Her name is Lilith and she models for us the lost art of speaking our truth and doing the hard things. Born of ancient lore and legend, she exists in the annals of Judeo-Christian Christian history as a predecessor of Eve. I blogged for Lilith Magazine this past week about how this reliance on Eve and dismissal of Lilith created fertile ground for the epidemic of sexual harassment and assault that's exploded into the #MeToo movement. If you want a more in-depth discussion of Lilith and Eve, you can listen in on my interview that just went live today as part of the Feminine Archetype Summit. And, because apparently this is message is very central to my purpose in 2018, I am also speaking about Lilith & Eve (with a dash of Sophia) at a women's retreat outside of Houston next weekend. Join me if you can!

As you work on cultivating those habits that help you live in greater alignment this year, don't forget to look at the foundational beliefs that might be making things difficult for you. Find a feminine archetype that speaks to you and make her your own. Read about her. Find imagery that  gives you a tangible representation of her. Embrace what she can teach you. 

Grow Your Heart Two Sizes this Season

Whatever you're celebrating this month, I encourage you to look around in awe at the many ways we connect with something bigger than ourselves. There is beauty in all of it. In embracing the dark of the solstice and the darkness in us. In rededicating ourselves to a sacred path through eight candlelit nights. In celebrating the light of the world being born in the most unexpected place. 

I have found expanding my spiritual city particularly helpful when dealing with feelings of grief which seem to surface during the holidays, even if your loss is several years old. In the past two weeks I have borrowed practices from Hinduism, Judaism and Christianity to bolster myself.

Perhaps it sounds scrooge-like to you to talk of needing to buttress ourselves for merriment. Today I think of it as acknowledging reality. Most of us carry a sadness of some sort with us into this season. Most of us don't always feel joyful and triumphant during December. That doesn't make us Grinches. It just makes us human.

So how do we help our hearts grow two sizes bigger when they still feel broken? We get still and we listen. We drop the things that make us crazy. Actually, I've found I can keep doing the things if I drop my unrealistic expectations about them.

Set some boundaries for yourself and guard them closely.

Christmas cards have always made me crazy—from picking the "perfect" picture to managing to get them in the mail on time (never happens). This year I gave myself one hour. One hour to cull through my photos from the past year, pick a few that had each of us in them, and email them out to my kids for approval (teenagers, if you don't know, are very picky about the photos parents share). I thought there was approximately a 10% chance that they would both give my draft a thumbs up. Lo and behold, they both loved it. I hit send on the order with 10 minutes to spare. I mailed them all out earlier this week and realized I still had a few people on my list. Without sweating the horror of my mistake (I.e, my humanity), I reordered  a few extras, on which I will write "Happy New Year" and send them out after Christmas. I am not at all stressed about this turn of events.

My other crazy maker? Gifts. Well, not the gifts per se, but my pursuit of perfect presents. Again, I set a boundary for myself (inspired by Glennon Melton who did the same). I decided I would be done with all shopping by the end of the first week of December. I visited a couple of my favorite local shops (Pondicheri and Body Mind & Soul) then started ordering online with abandon. As in, my husband sent me a text asking if my credit card had been stolen. I did not let myself obsess over the possibility of the items going on sale tomorrow. I did not hold out for free shipping. I did not second guess myself. I make a list, and I didn't waste time checking it twice. Like the snafu with the card quantity, I didn't do it perfectly. I realized I had forgotten a couple of folks and joyfully (and quickly) took care of theirs this week. No sweat.

And the spiritual practices I mentioned earlier?

Two weeks before Christmas, I visited the Houston Ayurveda Center for an abyhanga (hot oil massage) and steam to help myself embody the serenity I hoped to bring to the season. While not exactly Hindu, Ayurveda—yoga's sister science—was born in the deep spiritual soil of India. Each treatment begins with a Sanskrit invocation, bringing a sense of sacred to the experience. 

A week later, I was blessed to attend The Service of the Longest Night at my home church, Chapelwood UMC. Coinciding roughly with the Winter solstice, this annual  gathering reminds us that there is hope in the midst of grief. I have attended every year since my sister Angie died almost three years ago, and it's become a spiritual touchstone of the Christmas season for me.

Finally, a poem from the Jewish prayerbook Gates of Prayer made its way to me via my grief support group.  An unlikely companion for holiday inspiration, the words remind me of the constancy of grief. But in the simple repetition of "We remember them," I felt the bonds of grief loosening their grip on me. In remembering (rather than suppressing or denying) those we've lost, we can become freer to celebrate with those loved ones still with us. For those of you also struggling with loss this season, I'm including the poem here.

Wherever this season finds you, whatever loss that is heavy on your heart, there is still much to celebrate. Notice the celebrations around you, both the familiar and the foreign, for they are all reflections of God.

Namaste. Shalom. Merry Christmas.