Journal of Sacred Work

Days 149-151 - The Golden Thread of Radical Loving Care

"Man did not weave the web of life; he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself." Chief Seattle (1854)

    When American pause to honor and reflect upon our veterans of military service some of the most often overlooked are the untold numbers of caregivers who risked their lives to help on the battlefields. Not only are these caregivers often forgotten, they have been discriminated against.

   When Clara Barton (founder of the American Red Cross) first offered to organize women to help care for sick and wounded Civil War veterans she was not only turned down but derided for suggesting that "delicate" women could help soldiers. Fortunately, she persisted.

   By the time of the Vietnam War, caregivers as medics and nurses were not only welcomed, but celebrated and embraced as they risked their lives to run to the aid of the fallen. (Indeed, they were honored while our soldiers were spit at when they, including unwilling draftees, returned from an unpopular and unnecessary war that America lost.)

   Every loving caregiver is connected to every other who came before them by the Golden Thread woven by the first caregivers. Every loving caregiver is tied to every other caregiver who currently spends this day and night looking after the vulnerable. Every loving caregiver is linked to those who will yet come to reach out from their hearts to help others.

   The Golden Thread of Loving Care is one of the three essential elements of Radical Loving Care (along with the concepts of Sacred Encounters/Sacred Work and The Servant's Heart.) Those who offer help to others only because they are paid to do so carry the simple rope of work rather than high-purpose calling.

   It is only Golden Thread caregivers that symbolize the Love's light. The gold that flows through their hands (not from the caregiver but through him or her) is the way a caregiver can become a healer.

   Today, like everyday, is a time to celebrate the commitment of caregivers past, present and future. Whether we have fallen in battle or succumbed to illness, it is the disciples of Love to whom we turn for help amid our suffering.

   As we honor veterans, may we also honor, today, the veterans who have carried Love's Golden Thread across the history of civilization.

-Erie Chapman 

Days 147-148 - Whatever

“We are both/and, not either/or.  As caregivers when we embrace the spectrum within us, we are able to see and appreciate the vulnerability and grace in each of our encounters.” ~Karen York

Author  Margaret Wheatley poses this question, “How many of us have been in search of our purpose?” As a seeker, I respond with a resounding yes, although I live with ambiguity. At times this lack of knowing creates anxiety propelling my soul to  search further,  as I try to get it right. Yet, blessings abide in uncertainty as well, by opening a window into the realm of possibility.

When we see the world through the concrete lens of only one way, which is "my point of view” it slams the door shut on authentic communication. Either or thinking squelches any hope of moving beyond differences towards mutual understanding.

A glaring example is the current political climate of dead-end polarization. Our nation has become so entrenched in black and white, either or thinking, so that we are no longer willing to listen or hear the other person out.

In any conflict, we must get past the slippery downward slope of motivation that is concerned with winning rather than looking for common ground. Ultimately, discovering a both/and solution is needed to release the destructive paralysis and create new synergy.

Wheatley’s encourages us to loosen our grip on this notion of having to know and clearly define our purpose. Instead she emboldens us to “Just be in that constant opening --"Well, maybe I should do this. No? Well, maybe I should do this?" Wheatley concludes by saying, I wrote a word that really does have a lot of meaning for me -- "whatever".

Personally, I experienced a sense of relief upon reading Wheatley's revelation and by reconciling my inner struggle of trying to make life solid and under my control. Perhaps, more importantly as Karen York  eloquently suggests, we can embrace the spectrum within us and allow Grace to awaken the wonder and mystery of our being here together.

for a one minute read of  Wheatley’s enlightening words, click on this link http://www.ijourney.org/index.php?tid=358

~liz Sorensen Wessel

Above drawing by ~liz

Days 145-146 - What Changes Your Life?

    He could hardly have been a worse criminal. Torturing others was his way of life. 

   As he walked the dusty road, he was probably plotting the capture of his next group of Christians, relishing how he could punish them into forsaking their beliefs.

   The story of Saul's walk to becoming St. Paul has transfixed Christianity for two millenniums. His life changed the moment he heard the voice of Jesus ask, "Why?" Why was he torturing Christians?

    What was it in the heart of this man that allowed him to smell the flower of Love while breathing the fire of hate?

   Consider the three front-facing petals of the huge May-born magnolia (above.) What do you see there beyond the flowered shapes?

  In 312 C.E. Constantine led his army toward an assault on Rome. At the Milvian bridge, he, like Paul, felt a sign. Looking skyward, he saw the image of the cross and felt Jesus say "In hoc signo vinces" (By this sign you will conquer.)

   Constantine's first act after being crowned emperor was to declare Christianity legal. His decision transformed history. The foundations of the Bible most Christians read today were laid by Constantine's Council of Nicea.

   The Apostle Paul and Emperor Constantine affected us when their lives turned from hate to Love.

   What would it take to free your heart from the claws of fear and release it into the lap of Love?

   Most of us don't change because we hear Jesus speaking to us in the car on the way to work. It's gradual changes that may carry us forward. More likely, we default to the grip of old patterns.

   Imagine how your life would be transformed if you accepted Love's message. How would the experiences of your patients and co-workers change if you became a channel of God's Love?

   My heart breaks when I see how many caregivers have let their calling become just a job. The drumbeat of daily routines has blunted their life's best energy. Instead of surrendering to Love, they have capitulated to mediocrity.

   Some of us see Love's choice but can't sustain the energy to embrace it with all of our being.

   It's very hard. And nothing is more important.

   Don't wait for the voice of Love to call to you from the sky. That voice has already spoken - not from the sky, but from your heart.

   No outside voice can change you. We must make our own decision to turn our heart towards Love.

   Imprinted on the three magnolia petals I see the faces of fear, need and hope.

   Help the suffering. Live Love, not fear.

-Reverend Erie Chapman

Photograph: "Three-faced Magnolia" copyright erie chapman 2012

Days 142-144 - The Bridge To Being

   "We had the experience but missed the meaning..." T. S. Eliot, The Four Quartets

   "You're such an egomaniac," a family member said to me many years back. Her accusation sounded true. 

   After all, I had done so many things to make myself stand out in the world. All those things, I thought, must have come from the endless desire of my ego to satisfy itself.

   We swallow what the ego serves up. But, it's the fountain of wisdom from which every caregiver can drink (though not as easily as the cardinal from the birdbath.)

   The work to quench our spiritual thirst can be so exhausting that one day we surrender, perhaps landing for the rest of our lives on the island of the wrong answer.

   Yet, this mystery is resolved with another kind of surrender. 

   First, do you really want to escape your ego's grasp? Second, how do you do that?

   The reason I've always wanted to move to another place is that my ego grows in the garden of fear.

   One way I've found over the fence and into Love's garden is described by a genius poet named Stephen Dunn in his poem: "Meaninglessness."

   "He'd learned, but forgotten,/ the pointlessness of seeking;/ he was, after all, alive,/ and desire often sent him aching/ toward some same mistake."

   Minton Sparks sometimes tells her audiences that our lives are made up of "the bundle of stories we tell ourselves." 

   We want to explore these stories, not escape them. They are the fabric of our lives.

   Yet, that fabric is also woven with threads that scar our spiritual skin. 

   This need not be so if we can find a way to see our lives from a new story spoken from the loving heart of our Being. 

   For example, as a little boy, I was often told that I was bad and should be "ashamed" of myself. To the degree that shame has tainted my "bundle of stories" I need to hear those stories from a different point of view.

   Can I do this? I'm not sure. But, it seems worth trying because I don't want the word "shame" hanging around my neck any longer.

   I'll take responsibility. But, shame is poison mixed in the laboratory of fear.

   Our Being has a purity about it. The joy that rises from it grows from the verdant garden of Love. 

   Walk over the bridge from Fear to Being. From there, your old stories may appear, now, as a new-made quilt that comforts rather than torments. 

-Erie Chapman

Photograph: Garden & Cardinal - copyright erie chapman 2012

NOTE: I want to bring to your consciousness the most powerful video I have yet seen. It's from TED.com and is worth every second of its 16 minutes. Here is the link: http://www.ted.com/talks/jill_bolte_taylor_s_powerful_stroke_of_insight.html

Days 140-141 Follow that Road

  I often go home to visit my family and friends in the New England area. Stepping out of one’s routine and into another place of Earth’s turning, naturally provides perspective. Distance from worn patterns of daily life creates an opportunity for reflection and for garnering new insights.

Going home to the place of one’s early beginnings, of visiting the past in present times, of spending time with cherish people, is a time for centering one’s heart in the strength of Loving relationships. I had one such memorable experience on my recent trip in Vermont as I spent a week with my family.

 Especially remarkable is the friendship I share with three extraordinary women. Our friendships have continued for over 40 years; since age fifteen when I moved to Vermont. There is something invaluable about friends who knew us before we took on the roles and expectations that often accompany adult life's responsibilities.

Friends, who I spent hours with “just hanging out” listening to music, sharing dreams and ideals, making mistakes and getting into to mischief. We sometimes look back and wonder how we survived those times and turned out reasonably well.

No matter how many years pass, no matter how many moons wax and wane without a word or phone call, time is irrelevant when we are in each other’s presence.  No judgment, no expectations, just a pure joy in seeing one another again.  A true friend to me is one who knows of my mistakes, weaknesses and vulnerabilities and loves me, still. I am blessed to have friends such as these.

One has a quirky sense of humor and a great flair for adventure, loves learning romance languages, studying film, harbors an outrageous laugh and contagious humor, is willing to speak out on issues, a cat lover extraordinaire, and always has a great story to tell. We like talk by phone from time to time and we share a warm familiarity that friends sometimes do.

 One has a light hearted spirit, friendly and open-hearted in nature, an easy going way of being that draws you into her circle, is grounded in the simplicity of a full life, a hearty laugh, loves to throw snowballs to her dog, an artist that spins a potter’s wheel. We rarely talk or keep in touch between visits but when I come in she drives a long distance to join in reunion.

One who is spiritual seeker, a thinker, self-educated, a lover of the path of wisdom, lives a natural life of simple abundance, creates artistic English gardens, intuitive, sees with clarity, relationships are primary, guided by an inner voice, and home is a sanctuary that reflects her divine nature. We have often shared insights and meaning  through e-mail and I love the depth of our conversations.

Each of us uniquely is different in our approach to life and in our experiences but we share a common bond as cherished lifelong friends. As a write this I am keenly aware of my good fortune to be able to call them my anam cara (soul) friends. As with my family, whenever I have been in their presence I leave strengthened by their love. I am grateful for how they show up in my life.

As caregivers, our encounters with a person (and their family members) during the course of an illness may be brief but the love that we offer can have a lasting impact. What a suffering person will remember most, above all else, is how they were treated. Each time we reach out to meet the needs of others with a loving response, we know we are home.

~liz Sorensen Wessel

 

Note: Internet photo, Thanks Barry!

Days 138-139 - Fences & Flowers

   This strange, even abstract, conjunction of fences and stacks of bamboo and vines and trees leads all the way back to a choir of tulips singing to us from beneath an inverted V.

   For people like me, everything has significance. When I saw this gorgeous jumble from the alley behind my office I thought about all the ways we fence off the flowers within us.

   Of course, the thousand angles in the hand-hewn wood cascade their own grace. They are what caught my eye. It wasn't until I looked at the photograph that I saw that the fence tops all seemed to be pointing towards the round beauty beyond - as if to show us what they are protecting.

   When a person becomes an elderly patient he or she can look as if all their beauty has collapsed in upon them. The fresh light of their youth has faded. Vogue Magazine, marketers and the Neilsen rating people are not longer interested. That is why it is so important for caregivers (and the rest of us) to recognize the beauty within them. 

   The healtcare system routinely marginalizes anyone wearing a patient gown. Within this group, it is the elderly that often experience the most demeaning treatment. 

   In general, advanced age doesn't bring respect in American hospitals. Instead, caregivers sometimes recoil (inwardly) from wrinkled skin as if it was an electrified fence. 

   The path through the fence to the flower within older hearts is not reached by referring to an aged patient as, "that sweet little man" or by speaking to someone's grandmother in a loud voice whether or not they are deaf or by addressing the ancient among us as if they were five years old.

   We imagine the light within a newborn. Sometimes, it takes more work to experience the luminous warmth that rises from both the flowers and the fences.

   Life is an abstract painting. We try to organize it and make it real. The wise elderly among us know that it's time to give up all that effort and enjoy the dream.  

-Erie Chapman

Photograph - Fences & Flowers copyright erie chapman 2012

Days 136-137 - Happy or Serene?

"...time, space and boredom/ Are just passing fads./ All your pain, worry, sorrow/ Will someday apologize and confess/ They were a great lie."  -Hafiz (1320-1389)

Did Thomas Jefferson unintentionally shunt us onto the wrong track in the Declaration of Independence when he argued our right to "the pursuit of happiness?" Can happiness be "caught" for any longer than a few moments?

   Perhaps, I have always misunderstood the concept. Every time I recall a glad moment I simultaneously remember noticing its opposite crowding in to tell me that my happiness would flee - that soon it would head off on the wings of the same blue bird that brought it by and tempted me with its sweet scent.

   It's difficult to think of happiness without matching it against what isn't. And no sooner do I find myself in melancholy when some well-meaning soul will remind me that that moment, also, will amble away.

   Hafiz tells us this when he writes that "...time, space and  boredom are just passing fads."

   What about serenity? My now-ancient (99 years old) mother (above left) lives from peaceful energy. She celebrates happy moments but her lifelong grace does not depend on them.  

   Her life is anchored deeper. She spends no time worrying about how much more "time" she may have in this world. She knows that kind of worry simply poisons the present

   When her daytime caregivers wonder about the "secret" location of her key to happiness, I can only think that her joy lives in the mansion of her serenity.

   Mood is a bouncing ball. The moment we try to grab the happy peak it slips from our hands.

   For those grounded in serenity every moment may not be fun but life itself is always rich. Instead of grieving the past or worrying about the future, their serenity gives them the gift of grace in every present.

   How can caregivers be "happy" everyday when they are surrounded by illness and pain? It is those who cultivate peace and serenity who are the ones that provide care from the deepest chamber of their hearts.

   They are the fortunate and the wise. They know that serenity comes to those who live Love, not fear. 

-Erie Chapman

Days 134 -135: The Soft Grace of Your Smile

  This Sunday, people near and far will be spending time with or thinking of their Mothers. On a personal note, I just returned home from visiting my mother in Vermont. In the 96^th year of her life, I could not be lulled into complacency or fooled by the seeming ordinary passing of the few short days we spent together.

 Immersed in heightened awareness of this precious opportunity to be with my mom, I was struck by her fading engagement with this world.  Mom’s inability to hear diminished the quality of  conversation as well as the overcompensation of the TV volume turned up extra loud. The lack of sound versus extreme sound created barriers to communication that seemed strangely ironic.

 Oh, the tender ache of Love’s domain.  The uncommon depth that encompasses relationships intertwined in the unfolding mystery of our lives. My mind naturally gravitates towards sweet imaginings of the ideal, yet the complexity of life, of being human and of loving imperfectly demands so much more of us.

 Regardless, being in the presence of my mom held an unspoken preciousness. Beyond the world of sound, caring gestures filled in the void. Understated actions that signaled a deep down love sealed in the bonds of mutual affection.

 The bittersweet passage of time magnifies the fragility of our earthly lives and our perceived losses. Besides those who will be celebrating the joys of motherhood, my thoughts are with cherished friends who have lost their mom’s, and of all mothers who suffer from illness, the isolation of loneliness, or dementia.  

 May we recognize the ageless manifestation of our Mother’s Love in the voices, hands and hearts of those who show up for us. For a Mother’s love is unending and is revealed in the most unexpected and surprising ways.

Blessings to all the dear sweet women and men who birth Love in our world.

 ~liz Sorensen Wessel

 phot0 by ~liz

Days 129-133 - From Which Well Do You Drink?

Your love has an eloquent tone./ The sky and I want to hear it! - Hafiz  

  For years I've written, spoken, and otherwise obsessed about how to live Love not fear. What would that look like?

   Love cannot flow down the throat of a spirit blocked by fear. How do we pivot away from our fear-driven egos to drink in Love's energy?

   In Jesus' encounter with the woman at Siloam, he describes the difference between the water that slakes her bodily thirst and the "living water" that nourishes her spirit so that "you will never be thirsty again."

   Most of us drink each day from the well of fear. The water is toxic yet we swallow it drop by drop as if we had no choice.

   We draw from it because our egos are forever thirsty for attention. When praise comes the ego swells with delight. But criticism brings agony and a new scar to add to all the others.

   Once again, there is Eckhart's Tolle observation that the ego takes everything personally. How to escape?

   Learning how to drink Love's water calls us to cognitive therapy's classic (if mechanical-sounding) steps.

   Awareness: We become aware that we are not our ego and therefore can observe it rather than be it.

   Acceptance: We accept and prioritize this issue knowing we can succeed. We look to Love's well for spiritual nourishment.

   Envisioning: The third step requires that we envision living from Love, not fear. What does life look like as we recognize when our ego is driving us? How much of our day do we live in fear? Can we imagine a life in which this fear no longer drives us?

   Action: Practice living this new vision in everyday life.

   But, this is merely a guide. Like the instructions on how to play a new game, it is easy to toss aside.

   Indeed, the final action step is hardly final. Change requires that we choose this new path in every moment because our ego-driven pattern of action and reaction is so deeply ingrained.

   Tolle is famous for his work describing how to live in the now.  His concepts map out the journey to Love's well by freeing us from the baggage of past pain and our anxiety about the future. 

   In our "now" we can imagine a whole new way of being in Love. 

   For caregivers this life view recognizes that both passion and compassion flow more truly from this new way of being than from the old, anxiety-driven way.

   Neither creativity nor romance are diluted. Instead, both of these expressions arise from Love not fear.

   Fear fuels desire, not Love. 

   Love leads us to genuine passion.

   How exhausting to drink each day from Fear's well. How exhilarating to discover Love's well and there to drink, perhaps for the first time, free of worry.

   "Your love has an eloquent tone."

   Sing.

-Erie Chapman

Photograph: "Flower Drinking" copyright erie chapman 2012

Days 127-128 - The Present Moment - A Guest Commentary by Candace Nagle

[Special Thanks to Candace Nagle for contributing the following essay in place of regular weekend contributor Liz Wessel, who is on vacation.]


“The wise man is a happy child.” -Arnaud Desjardins

   Sometimes that which calls us into the grand miracle of the present moment may be a loud bang of beauty like a glorious sunset or the fragrance of a fully blooming rose. But my apprenticeship to the NOW began with the soft presence of my first grandchild (left). I have lived within her sphere of influence for twelve years and still there seems to be nothing else in this universe more important than stopping everything to be in her world where I can draw sustenance to rejuvenate my soul. Whether it be searching the sky for the first evening star, watching Mary Poppins for the 150,000th time, dressing up in fairy clothes to play follow the leader, or pinning on our tails to fully express our catness, I have been her willing student. In the process I have learned all sorts of hidden truths. For example, did you know that turtles love to eat four leaf clovers? Or that Pyramids are relics of ancient electric power plants? From Madeline I have learned to pay attention to the treasures of Now, which are so often buried by the scurry and flurry of the trivial “matters of consequence” (The Little Prince) of this careening world.

    As the years have passed the adventures have evolved. Instead of wearing tails, now we offer refuge to wayward cats, watch nature documentaries, and hunt for treasures in thrift stores. I continue following her lead, relishing in each expression, as she becomes a young woman riding horses, sketching unicorns, and playing a heavenly cello. Madeline’s presence in my life has given me permission to care for myself in deeper ways; to rest, imagine, invent, and laugh; to put aside the grand foolishness of being a seriously too serious grown adult fool for the much saner and healthier world of right NOW, where cats purr, dust moats spin, chocolate melts in your mouth, and anything that you might dream of is simply possible.

    The path of grandparenting has been my porthole into the present moment. Others arrive in this place of magic and peace, this essential reality, while cultivating their gardens, strolling among silent ancient Redwoods, or communing with other creatures. As my friend Marcy says, “My dogs will tell you that living in the present is the only life we have. If I ask them for a better explanation they give me a quizzical look, narrow their eyes, and, I imagine them wondering if I'm stupid. They are my teachers. They don't regret or worry. Every single one of them was born knowing that the only time is now.

   Maybe each of us was like this too when we were born. When you realize that nothing happens except now, each now is an opportunity to do your best…be who you want to be, fix what you want to fix, love without expectation or desire...patience, tolerance and beauty are all things of the present.”

   This blessed world is mad with activity and, like a tornado, it wants to suck us up and scatter our souls in the wind. We need to protect the haven of the present moment. It is not a luxury. It is a necessity and is our saving Grace. This is where we can “rest in God” and commune with each other. With our souls replenished we can give and receive true love and birth what is ours to bring forth into this hungry world.

-Candace Nagle

 Photo - "Madeline" by Kate Nagle