Connecting Through Our Woundedness

Connecting Through Our Woundedness

“The reality is that every human being is broken and vulnerable. How strange that we should ordinarily feel compelled to hide our wounds when we are all wounded!”—M. Scott Peck in The Different Drum (Touchstone, 1998).

Henri Nouwen also tells us that we become less, not more, vulnerable when we share our woundedness. It takes enormous energy to pretend we are “just fine.” We hide who we are, trying to be something we are not, wearing a mask. As we take off that mask, we can now employ all that energy simply to be ourselves, to become the person God created us to be. We become more human. In turn, others share their wounds because they recognize us as a safe place—another human being who may have just an inkling of what pain is about.

Letting others know we are human and have pain and make mistakes is also a path into the divine within ourselves and others. This is the path we are all seeking. A wide, gaping entrance to this path opens through our wounds directly into the Christ, the Holy, the Spirit within each other.

This is the path from Good Friday to Resurrection. We especially remember Christ’s woundedness and our woundedness, and that connection to Christ the King within us on this Christ the King Sunday on our liturgical calendar.

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com  https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Labyrinths: Looking Forward and Expectations

Labyrinths: Looking Forward and Expectations

“Not too long ago I walked a labyrinth for the first time in my life. I had flirted with labyrinths for years, but my expectations were so high that I kept finding reasons not to walk one. I did not want to hurry. I did not want to share the labyrinth with anyone who might distract me. I did not want to be disappointed. I looked forward to walking a labyrinth so much that looking forward to it kept me from doing it for years.”—Barbara Brown Taylor in An Altar in the World (HarperCollins, 2006).

Labyrinth Arkansa Children’s Hospital

With her usual honesty, Barbara Brown Taylor reminds us of how our expectations of a spiritual practice can keep us from the practice. We may fear that we will not find the fulfillment many of our friends have in a spiritual practice. The reality is that we can’t be proficient in all spiritual practices. However, we can attempt them, give each one some time, and then realize that one or more of them is not our best way to connect to God.

God has provided a smorgasbord of ways to connect us to the holy. Some practices may be helpful at one stage in our lives, and not at another. For example, Morning Prayer and Lectio Divina stabilized my body and soul at one time in my life. Other times, a daily walk around my neighborhood centered me before I went to work at the hospital. Now, my central practice is writing; it has become my best form of prayer.

I talk to spiritual friends about not giving up or never considering a spiritual practice again. Instead, listen to the Spirit within. My experience is that we often receive a nudge to return to a practice we tried previously, when we are now in a different stage of life. What a blessing that we have so many ways to connect to God.

I struggle with Centering Prayer. I have difficulty sitting still and calming the committee in my head, but I do not give up. However, walking the labyrinth is natural for me. Concentrating on following its turns gives our mind a much-needed rest. Walking a path allows us to live in the present again, rather than in the past or future. Our surrender to the winding of the labyrinth—a metaphor for our spiritual journey—reminds us of how we stay connected to God outside and within ourselves. Journeying with others on the path also enables us to visualize God more clearly in our neighbor.

Early in walking the labyrinth, we come very close to the center. “Aha, I have arrived,” but immediately after that premature thought, we are suddenly back around the edge. We find ourselves close to the edge near the end and think we still have a long way to go. But soon comes the realization that we are at the center!

I need meditation with movement to connect my soul to God. The labyrinth, dance, yoga, praying in color, the rosary, and other bodily movement meditations are ways to achieve quietness for those of us overwhelmed by the busyness of life. They allow us to “park” our minds so we are not constantly thinking about the past or future.

My experience is that I do not always receive the gift of connection when I reach the labyrinth center. Instead, this sense of presence may come anywhere along the path. I remember one New Year’s Eve when I walked the labyrinth at Christ Church. It was chilly, and I wore a shawl with fringes that looked like a drape that might cover your grandmother’s piano. Halfway out, an unusual warmth enveloped me. I felt the love of my grandmothers surrounding me like the comfort of the long black shawl.

As I walk, I often meditate on the words of Thich Nhat Hanh1, a Vietnamese spiritual guide known for his walking meditations: “People say that walking on water is a miracle, but to me, walking on earth is a real miracle.”

 1Thich Nhat Hanh, The Long Road Turns to Joy: A Guide to Walking Meditation (Parallax Press, 2007).

Joanna.   https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Jean Shinoda Bolen: Soul Work

Jean Shinoda Bolen: Soul Work

“You have the need and the right to spend part of your life caring for your soul. It is not easy. You have to resist the demands of the work-oriented, often defensive, element in your psyche that measures life only in terms of output—how much you produce—not in terms of the quality of your life experiences. To be a soulful person means to go against all the pervasive, prove-yourself values of our culture and instead treasure what is unique and internal and valuable in yourself and your own personal evolution.”—Jean Shinoda Bolen.

We can learn much about ourselves and our souls from psychiatrist Jean Shinoda Bolen. Her book, Goddesses in Everywoman, teaches us about the Artemis, the Athena, the Hestia, the Hera, the Demeter, the Persephone, and the Aphrodite in our own psyches, and how each relates to and cares for our soul both positively and negatively.

Bolen’s writings bring us considerable wisdom for this journey. She empowers us to stay the heroine during troublesome situations, knowing and believing that answers will come and things will change. She warns against regressing and embodying the victim—a scenario where we use all our energy defensively as we view our challenging situations as brought on by others. When we identify ourselves as the victim, our souls cannot breathe.

I love the story of Psyche’s journey to reunite with her husband, Eros, the masculine part of her personality. One of her demanding tasks is to sort many different seeds. The sorting is accomplished by an out-of-the-box, unusual group of insects or ants that appear to solve her dilemma. These ants may represent our intuitive function, something beyond cognitive ability that represents a potential inside of us. This natural intuition will help us in confusing situations if we stay grounded as the heroine.

Other tasks that enable women to connect to their masculine side include allowing the feminine to gain power but remain compassionate, learning to see the big picture, and developing the ability to say no. These stories of perplexing situations where we learn about ourselves are some of the many ways we can nurture our souls. Finally, we allow the spirit within to take deep breaths, so that we can wake up from a deep sleep.

 This is soul work.

Joanna.   https://www.joannaseibert.com/