Richard Rohr, Breathing Under Water, Spirituality and the Twelve Steps

Richard Rohr, Breathing Under Water

“The work of spirituality is the ongoing liberation of head, heart, and body toward full, luminous seeing and living, not a mere mental ‘decision for Jesus’ or a one-time insurance policy of sacraments received. Most head churches do not touch the heart; most heart churches do not bother with the head; and almost all churches ignore the body.”

Richard Rohr’s book, Breathing Under Water: Spirituality and the Twelve Steps, is a masterpiece on how to turn our lives over to God. It is for everyone, even those who may not have an addiction. But Rohr believes that, in truth, everyone has some form of addiction that helps them live life on life’s terms.

Rohr describes our need to open three inner spaces: our heads, minds, and bodies. To open our minds, he suggests a contemplative or meditative practice. This is not about saying or reciting prayers. These are emptying prayers. Two of the most common are centering prayers and mindfulness prayers. 

As we open our minds and let the committee in our heads rest, Rohr directs us to fill our hearts in the same way, at the same time. Filling our hearts means healing the harms we have carried from the past, passed down from generation to generation. He suggests learning about the Enneagram, which helps us understand the strategies we have used to survive with our injured feeling function. Each Enneagram type is a half-truth about ourselves. 

Rohr also believes the heart space can be opened through “right-brain” activities, such as music, art, dance, nature, poetry, games, and the art of relationship, which Christians might call seeking God, the Spirit, or Christ in one another. 

Our body grounds us to the earth. The body keeps us in the present moment. God meets us in the present moment. For many, the body is more repressed than the head and the heart, and it is taking its revenge through compulsive eating, repressed sexuality, anorexia, and disregard for our planet, water, animals, and healthy foods.

The head, heart, and body reconnect as one when we set our egos aside and begin to see the ever-Presence, the immediate embrace of God, healing our limited and toxic image of God.

Joanna joannaseibert.com

Mortality

Mortality

Medical School Class

“On the death of a friend, we should consider that the fates through confidence have devolved on us the task of a double living, that we have henceforth to fulfill the promise of our friend’s life also, in our own, to the world.”—Henry David Thoreau.

In 2018, we attended our fiftieth medical school reunion. One of the most surprising developments I never envisioned was the substantial number of classmates who had died. We were invincible, ready to take on whatever came our way. We had overcome almost every possible hardship, including abuse, prejudice, poverty, humiliation, ridicule, and whatever else was presented to us. We knew how to work without sleep, be shamed for what we did not know in front of peers, and read and study until it seemed our eyes were coming out of our heads. 

But our death was never part of our own plan. It was something that happened to those we were unable to save.

We constantly walked with death and still remember every face of those we could not save because of our own ignorance or because the medical science that could have saved them was not yet developed. We never imagined that those with whom we worked so closely, sharing a common experience, would no longer be alive. How did they die? Was it a lengthy illness? We search for their obituaries: Ken, Jim, Charles. 

Of course, this has been a wake-up call about our mortality. There is always the question of why we are still alive while they are not. Did we take better care of ourselves, or do we have better genes? Today, I simply know that most answers are out of our reach. 

More and more, we have to live into mystery. We also want to thank those with whom we weathered a wilderness adventure. Somehow, each of them contributed to our becoming the person God created us to be. We send prayers of thanksgiving to them for how their lives touched ours. We also ask for their prayers until we reconnect with them and learn even more about each other.

We look forward to continuing our journey together with the God of our understanding, surrendering, trying to live one day at a time, being grateful for each day, and enjoying the journey without needing to know all the answers this time.

Last year, my husband planned another reunion, and we are planning another one for next year. There is something unique about the bond we shared with friends during our first walks, learning about life and death, that words cannot express. Only the heart knows.

Thanksgiving, All Saints, All Souls, and Advent are special times to remember and give thanks for old friends who shared our journey, both those who are still alive and those who have died.

Joanna.  joannaseibert.com

Celebrating Beauty and Meaning at Camp Mitchell on Petit Jean Mountain

Celebrating Beauty and Meaning at Camp Mitchell on Petit Jean Mountain

“By its very nature, life is full of meaning, for the God who said ‘let there be light’ also proclaimed it good. And the God who said ‘let us make humankind’ also blessed us and proclaimed us very good indeed.” —Br. James Koester, SSJE, from “Brother, Give Us a Word,” a daily email sent to friends and followers of the Society of Saint John the Evangelist (SSJE.org).

We have gathered for the past 12 years with a group of friends called the Board of Visitors, who meet once a year at the top of Petit Jean Mountain to give thanks for Camp Mitchell, the camp and conference center for the Episcopal Church in Arkansas. Our bishop celebrates Eucharist with us; we learn what has been happening at the camp over the past year; and we are informed of new volunteer opportunities while raising money for a project for the new year. We have paved roads and paths for those with disabilities, remodeled buildings, remodeled a kitchen, built an event deck, contributed to a farm program, and built an indoor chapel; but mostly we hope to educate people about the camp so they can go back home to remind others of this natural jewel.

Our camp has changed lives, especially those of our children and youth. Many have met God here.

The camp is strategically built on the brow of a small mountain overlooking the Arkansas River and the Arkansas River Valley. In the early morning, clouds fill the valley, and we cannot help but feel we are in heaven. Each evening, the sunset paints a new panoramic skyscape of pink, orange, and red that no other artist has been able to duplicate. Indian caves with their faint markings lie below, while three-hundred-million-year-old fossil rocks lie beside us at every turn, reminders that life was here long before we were. 

Every inch of nature on the mountain is spectacular, but living in dwellings on the brow is not an easy life for humans. The wind, rain, and electrical storms take their toll, And the upkeep of these habitats is high. That is why we come together to give thanks and care for the gift we have been given. 

We are paying it forward to care for a place that has changed our lives—to preserve it for those who will come after us, most of whom we will never know. The beauty of Petit Jean Mountain has not only brought us closer to the God of our understanding but has also been one of our best teachers in stewardship. We learn by caring for a precious pearl of great price, a place we have been privileged to witness for a nanosecond of its existence. 

I will keep this image from our opening Eucharist, just after sunset last night, in my heart forever. We light candles around the altar of our open-air chapel to remind us to give thanks for all who came before us and cared for this land. We also light candles to pray for our children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren who will come to enjoy and preserve this holy ground long after we are gone.

We also give thanks for the new executive director of Camp Mitchell, Monica Woods.

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