Journal of Sacred Work

Days 305 - 306 I Wish for You...

“I define connection as the energy that exists between people when they feel seen, heard, and valued; when they can give and receive without judgment; and when they derive sustenance and strength from the relationship.”  ~Brené Brown

I think these words capture the essence of our Journal community. Over six years ago visionary, Erie Chapman created a safe space for caregivers to come to rest in sanctuary, to receive sustenance and to tap into a well-spring of inspiration.

For deep within the essence of his being, Erie believes that all caregiving is sacred and that the qualities of our encounters have the power to heal.  Erie, describes the meaning of a sacred encounter; “When need has been heard and answered with love.”

Now, this is not about superficial politeness or platitudes that can diminish a person’s dignity but rather, Radical Loving Care. Throughout his distinguished leadership in healthcare, Erie’s revolutionary work has been transforming the hearts, minds and culture of caregiving throughout the country.  His remarkably tireless efforts and dedication to this work is profound. Erie’s rare passion burns so brightly it is apparent that it has claimed his heart. Although retired, his mission continues in expansive ways.

Yet, on a personal note, I wish to express my gratitude to Erie for the many grace filled blessings we have received through his affirmations and belief, not only in the work that we do, but more importantly for affirming the Beauty of what we are.

In my Saturday essay I told you about a young boy living in an impoverished country amid very bleak and desolate conditions. Still, he lovingly tended a small purple flower that sprouted between the cracks of a stone wall. Well in a way, Erie symbolizes both the flower and the young boy. The flower because he encourages us to see with sacred eyes Beauty, as we enter into suffering with those who are ill, hurting and vulnerable. The boy, because he lovingly nurtures caregivers who care for people in need.

Erie offers a refuge for us in the pages of this Journal. For me, with the ebb and flow of life’s changing landscape and the accompanying need to let go, sometimes my world feels barren  and bleak. Yet, each time I come to the Journal I receive a spark of the divine, a lovely flower, a lifeline.

Happy birthday, Erie or in the words of G.M. Hopkins I wish for you days filled with the “dearest freshness of deep down things.”

With love on behalf of your many Journal friends from around the world,

~liz

 Note: A must read-"Radical Loving Care" by Erie Chapman

Above photo of Erie and his mom.

Iris photo by Erie copyrighted

 

Days 303-305 - Leaves of God

"Our bodies/ are the leaves of God." - Saint Teresa of Avila (1515-1582)

   Teresa of Avila endures as one of the great mystics of the western world. Of course, this means that she was terribly persecuted by the leadership of the Catholic church.

   The sixteenth century was a time of upheaval for Catholics. Martin Luther, a priest and monk, had launched the Protestant reformation on October 31, 1517 as a direct protest to corruption in the Catholic Hierarchy. 

   Not long afterwards, Ignatius Loyola began his own revolution from within the church resulting in the founding of the order of Jesuits.

   Meanwhile, it was Saint Teresa who saw the truth that shines in our hearts today: "What are all these insane boundaries we protect?" she wrote. "What are all these different names for the same church of love we kneel in together."

   A few heard the verity in her words. But, most ignored it then and do to this day. So many in organized religion insist that the path of their church or temple or mosque is the only way. 

   Such insanity not only spawns wars. It divides many of us from each other. We may be drawn together with those who share our beliefs and a smug alliance. Such communities of smugness rest on sand.

   The same is true in our political environment. We idolize the leaders with whom we agree and demonize their opponents. By extension, some Republicans have begun thinking of Democrats as evil and vice-versa. 

   "What are these insane borders we protect?" Teresa asks us. 

   Caregivers are called to care for the sick no matter what. What if Catholic or Protestant caregivers of today refused giving loving care to a  patient if he or she was an atheist? What if a European-American caregiver refused to administer medical care to an African-American patient. (a kind of viciousness that was common in some parts of America only fifty years ago.)

   We are all Teresa's 'Leaves of God." One leaf lives beside another.

   We share the same branches. Can we live the Love of the tree from which we grew?

-Reverend Erie Chapman

Days 301-302 Being Intentional

Recently, I read an article by a reporter who travels to some of the most impoverished countries of the world. She writes about the people she encounters and shares their stories. Although, I don’t remember the names or places, a poignant image lingers, of a young boy who lives in bleak and desolate conditions. Yet, he lovingly tended a small purple flower that sprouted between the cracks of a stone wall.

Love is an invisible force. We search, we struggle and all the while Love Is and we are.  When ready, we begin to let go of our frenetic activity and futile attempts to control what is beyond our doing.  Only then can we awaken to our essence; we are home.

Often we react to life’s challenges as if we could control the universe.  Day to day stress, if ignored, can culminate in physical symptoms of illness and pain (my most recent experience and of some colleagues).  Restoration of health in body, mind and spirit is an intentional act of Loving; oneself and others.

We can intentionally create space for Love’s expansiveness by watering the seeds within our heart.  One helpful way I have found, is to get in to a comfortable position and to breathe deeply. On each sail of air we can feel the stress and tension release from our body.  Soon an ever deepening sense of calm settles over us like a warm blanket. Profound relaxation enables us to restore balance and a sense of well-being.

 Offer a listening presence.  Give up your efforts. Notice what you love. Trust in the healing power of Love.

Then, as Erie Chapman so graciously illustrated in this past week’s Journal essays, our movements become Love in action.

~liz Sorensen Wessel

Mandala by ~liz

 

Days 299-300 - The Zen of Loving Care

    A student once asked a great master, "How do you practice Zen?

   "One thing at a time," the master responded.

   How can we possibly live like this? The world screams at us to do so many things at once.

   One day years ago I spent a shift with Nancy, an intensive care nurse at Riverside Methodist Hospital in Columbus, Ohio. Her task work was overwhelming.

   She was constantly adjusting a maze of lines that hung like vines amid a forest of I.V. poles. She checked the oxygen levels of her intubated patient, adjusted his pillow, checked his back for bed sores, monitored his blood pressure, heart rate and oxygen level, sometimes speaking to her unconscious patient about what she was doing.

   She performed her tasks with such rapidity that she seemed to be doing some of them simultaneously.

   Then she did something I didn't expect. She withdrew a comb from the drawer beside her patient's bed and combed his hair. Her frenetic activity turned calm. She became a study in Zen beauty.

   Later, it occured to me that perhaps this caregiver had been practicing Zen all along. It was I who felt frenetic. She, on the other hand, seemed as smooth and skilled as a ballet dancer. Her hands graced the landscape of her critically ill patient like a mother attending the unspoken needs of her newborn.

   What did the Zen master mean? He was speaking, perhaps, about graceful living.

   When Liz Wessel creates her mandalas she is perhaps letting other energy move her hands. Every fine artist like Liz knows that trying to force creativity blocks it.

   But, don't we have to do something? After all, the nurse manager lurks just down the hall. Malpractice lawyers never forgive. Patients and their families expect magic. Mistakes are not allowed.

   What Zen teaches us is that we need only do one thing in each moment - train ourselves so that when Love's energy comes through us we will have the skill to practice it in healing ways.

   Zen is powerful because it enables us to focus all our energy in the way that a laser, by concentrating light, increases its power. It reminds us to slow down and find our inner quiet. Only then can Love find its most precious pathways through our hearts.

-Erie Chapman

Days 296-298 - The Greatest Among Us

"The greatest among you will be your servant." -Matthew 23:11-12

    In the middle of a Cookeville, Tennessee night a young mother piles her small children into her car and heads off to help a dying patient. She is not paid for this work. She is a hospice volunteer. She has opened her heart to Love and it is Love that has taken her to the beside of a stranger in need.

     The world measures us in so many ways that don't matter to Love. Jesus (through Matthew) reminds us of one of the few "measures" that are meaningful - loving service to others.

   Society reveres the rich and the famous. They are encased in castles. We seek their autographs.

   The anonymous caregivers of our lives are often ignored and are never paid enough. Yet, their light shines in the lonely dark like a yellow leaf on dark ground. Those who are privileged to lead large hospitals are often paid too well (as I once was) while first line caregivers are never paid enough.

   Jesus also said, "All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted. Very few of us (including me) are willing to surrender much of our hard won worldly "gains." Not surprisingly, we want to live our lives with as much comfort as possible. A lot of us are unwilling to do much to help those who suffer with too little.

   Now come the legions of "servants" bringing God's energy into this world. In Radical Loving Care, we exalt and promote those who have a Servant's Heart. These are the ones who come forward in times of our need. These are the ones who sacrifice so that we may be healed. 

   Of course, all of us have the potential to open our hearts even more so that we become, increasingly and each day, more the servants and less the waited upon.

   Most of all, true servants do not help in order to be exalted. They serve because they have opened their hearts to Love.

-Reverend Erie Chapman

Days 294-295 Autumn Musings

Note: Weekend essay by guest contributer, friend and artist, Maria Doglio

The Autumn Muse is beginning to dance among the vineyards where I live, dabbling her colors on the first turning of the leaves to yellows, gold and reds.  Soon there will be a riot of color throughout Alexander Valley and beyond.  Winds blow in coolness; skies are crystal blue and clear or with billowing clouds skirting the hills.  The days may linger in warmth, but we awake to a morning chilliness that reminds us the season is changing. 

Devas come out to play after the harvest while under a clear and starry night lit by a full moon, a little sprite peeks out at the world behind.

After the play, the Autumn Muse, in her wisdom and serenity, invites us to rest and nurture ourselves.  As nature turns the season, she beckons us to follow, go inward, reflect on our own personal path and plant the seeds of our future.

Finding time for nurturing ourselves in our 24/7 society can be difficult.  Reconnecting with nature reminds us to slow down and find balance.  Earth is in constant motion and we move forward with her in oneness. Let us find time to nurture and care for ourselves and listen to the call to open our hearts to change with each season so that we may blossom in the spring.  

 As we do so, we maintain our serenity within ourselves, and more easily find peace, love and oneness with all of life.  In turn, while caring for others, we become a catalyst for transformation as our light is reflected back into the world.       

Days 292-293 - The Love We Deserve

"We accept the love we think we deserve." - from the movie, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

   One of my sisters saw this movie. She didn't like the film, but loved the above line.

   Why is it that so many of us grow up thinking we don't deserve love?

   Every person's answer would be different. Mine might have something to do with being branded a bad boy as a little kid. If you're bad, then you don't deserve anything good like love, right?

   That's wrong, of course. Love is present for us all if we accept what we do is not who we are. As "bad" as we may act, we are still loved.

   How many patients are lying in hospices right now accepting love for the first time in their last moments? 

   The prisoners I prosecuted as an assistant district attorney in the 1970s chronically complained that no one had ever cared about them. The prisoner I see each week on Death Row was not only terribly mistreated as a child but lived in nineteen (19!) different homes between age seven and age fifteen (when he ran away and moved into a cardboard box.) Love is essentially irrelevant to him.

   That is one of the reasons for my weekly visits to the concrete and steel house where Glenn lives every moment of his life. Until recently, he had no other regular visitors. He had no one to affirm his basic humanity. 

   Glenn and I do no pray together because he thinks religion specifically and spirituality in general is a sham. If we had walked his life path, perhaps we would feel the same.

    I try to show up for Glenn in ways others have not. Perhaps, one day he will come to accept the love that comes not from me but through me.

   The greatest gift any caregiver can offer, whether with hands or with heart, is Love. Along with offering this gift, perhaps we can all find ways to help those we serve to open their souls to accept Love.

   Receiving Love and loving others, radically. This is the heart of life.

-Reverend Erie Chapman

Photograph: "Tree Receiving Sun" copyright erie chapman 2012

Days 289-291 - Beautiful Wild Forces

   "There are beautiful wild forces within us./ Let them turn the mills inside and fill sacks/ that feed even heaven." - St. Francis of Assisi

   To release the "beautiful wild forces within us" we need to embrace the world with all the exuberance of the woman in the photograph throwing her arms to the heavens. 

   We know the world suffers. Yet, we can "feed even heaven" if we allow Love's energy to pour through us. 

   For forty years, I have been a faithful follower of PBS. Their Sunday night programing now includes a remarkable series named "Call the Midwife." 

   In the show broadcast October 14 a young nurse cares for and also befriends an ancient war veteran who is so astonished and touched by her caregiving that he breaks into tears. When his legs are amputated, he asks the nurse to scratch his phantom limbs. When he dies, she is one of only two people to attend the funeral.

   "Beautiful wild forces" can express Love in the most quiet and poignant ways.

   In the same BBC program, a white fifty-year old's forty-three-year old white wife becomes pregnant. It will be his first child and he is over-the-moon with anticipation. 

   The child turns out to be black and not "his" in the biological sense. The wife is terrified about her husband's potential reaction.

   The script surprises us. The husband asks to hold the baby and pronounces him beautiful and "the sweetest baby he has ever seen." Love triumphs over possessiveness. 

   In other words, this quiet and low-key series is entirely about Radical Loving Care. Not the typical soap opera about the sexy young woman yearning for the handsome stud but the lovely young caregiver looking after a man forty years her senior. 

   In the story, an old person is rescued from degradation and loneliness by the love of a healing caregiver. Her beautiful, wild love lifts not only the elderly man, but each of us.

   And as she engages her patient in a sacred encounter, she fills "sacks that feed even heaven."

-Erie Chapman

Photograph: "Celebrating Nature" copyright erie chapman 2012

Days 287-288 To Be That Brave

  “Pakistan produces people of extraordinary bravery. But no nation should ever require its citizens to be that brave.” Novelist, Nadeem Aslam

Note: This reflection is dedicated to the dreams of Malali Yousafzai

As a young girl she only wanted an education, for she had dreams of becoming a doctor someday. Yet, growing up in Pakistan this dream was not commonplace but rather a revolutionary idea. In 2009, when the Taliban took over the valley where she lived, girls were forbidden to shop, listen to music, watch television or go to school.

It was during the terror of this siege, that she began to find her voice through journaling. At age 11, she wrote under a pen name, Gul Makai. Through the power of the written word and in sharing her poignant experiences, she became visible to the world. 

It was only after the Taliban were driven out of the Swat Valley that her real identity became known as Malali Yousafzai. At age 14, she is the recipient of a national award for bravery and was also nominated for an international children's peace award.

Malali’s activism was awakened and nurtured by her father Ziauddin Yousafzai who is an ardent believer in the right to an education and who oversees several schools in Pakistan.  Although, she was born into a culture whose diminished view of women has not changed for centuries, Malali has seen another reality. “I have a new dream…I must be a politician to save this country. There are so many crises in our country. I want to remove these crises.” 

Today, the world gasps in horror at this senseless act of violence. How can beautiful, Malali Yousafzai be lying in a coma, after being shot in the head in an assassination attempt? Her extraordinary courage to speak out has captivated our attention.

Malali had stated, “I think of it often and imagine the scene clearly. Even if they come to kill me, I will tell them what they are trying to do is wrong, that education is our basic right.”

Malali’s passion burns so brightly that no one can ever extinguish it. Let’s us pray for Malali's full recovery and may her inspiring voice be heard again soon.

~liz Sorensen Wessel

This mandala is dedicated with love to Malali

Days 282-286 The Holy Kiss

[Note: The original version of this article appeared in an October, 2010 version of the Journal.]

   "There is some kiss we want with our whole lives, the touch of Spirit on the body." Rumi

   It may come as a surprise for many to discover that members of the early Christian church routinely kissed each other as part of their celebration of God's Love in community. This may also have been true of early practices in Judaism.

   The kisses were intended as expressions of God's Love among the brothers and sisters of the church - among the children of God. "Greet one another with a holy kiss," the Apostle Paul offers in Romans 16:16. This instruction is repeated in Corinthians, Thessalonians, and in the first letter of Peter.

   American churches have, of course, long since abandoned this display of kissing (too many worries about erotic overtones no doubt.) 

   What replaces the "holy kiss" of ancient times? Rumi wrote centuries ago, "There is some kiss we want with our whole lives..." The holy kiss affirms our humanity.

   Hugs and kisses are exchanged among friends, usually female, in American society. American men, on the other hand, are tacitly forbidden such expressions.

   Paul wanted to encourage "holy kisses" because he understood that we crave this intimacy with the fellow beings we love.   As babies, we experience an immediate need to be held and kissed. As we age, or become sick and infirm, the young are less and less likely to want any physical contact with us.

   How tragic. I have see some caregivers offer kisses to old men and women in ways that are condescending instead of holy. "I'm just going to give that sweet little old man a peck on the cheek" I heard a nurse say once.

   The old and the sick are often physically shunned. This happens just at the moment they are most in need of being touched, of being loved, of experiencing something like "a holy kiss." By avoiding contact we signal that they have somehow fallen to the edges of humanity and are no longer "touchable" except for the purpose of a medical procedure.

   The question before every caregiver every day is: How may I bring healing to the patient in my care. Great caregivers listen for what the patient needs. It is not an actual "kiss" that matters. It is the holiness of touching with Love, of reaching out to another being who has fallen so deeply ill that they may feel they are no longer a part of the human race, no longer a child of God, no longer worth human contact.

   "There is some kiss we want with our whole lives...." It is the kiss of the holy. It is the touch that helps heal our isolation and relieves us, at least for a moment, of the sense we have that we are alone in this world. It is a gift that can heal beyond words.

-Reverend Erie Chapman

Days 280-281 Radical Acceptance

I woke up feeling fragile. My tailored blouse concealed the rosary that hung around my neck. I donned a hand woven Tibetan scarf as prayer cloth and readied myself to meet the challenges of the day.  Midday, I left the fast paced, cool air of our neon-lighted office, to meet a dear friend. As I stepped outdoors I was welcomed into sun's warm embrace.  

For the next two hours time stood still. Although, the café was abuzz with lively conversation all else melted away as I listened to my friend share her story. To be with someone whose heat opens in an outpouring of love and grief, and to bear witness to that love, is precious beyond measure.

 When tragedy strikes deep, we try to make sense of it, but most of all we need space to grieve. In dark times we may even question God’s existence. I don’t believe that God plays favorites granting favor to some and inflicting pain and suffering on others. Sometimes we can’t help wonder where was God in all this?

 Love's invisible presence is palpable, especially in times of need, becomes visible in the people who show up for us. A presence, overflowing in gentleness...a warm glow surrounding us, lifts the veil for a while we remember, before slipping back into forgetgulness.

How can we awaken and not fall back to sleep?

Perhaps one way, as my friend shared, is with a “Radical Acceptance” (Tara Brach).  To notice our emotions, do we feel discomfort, aversion, fear? To name the feeling and to be willing to open into the experience. Acceptance opens up sacred space; now that truly is a gift of Love.

~liz Sorensen Wessel

 

Mandala by ~liz

Days 278-279 - Dreaming

"We dream - it is good we are dreaming -/ It would hurt us were we awake..." - Emily Dickinson

   But aren't we awake? Maybe not. 

   Plato appeared in my high school classroom long ago with this sentence: "All of life is a dream." Ever since, I've wondered if he was right. 

   Dreams always seem real when you are in them even if you have some awareness that you are dreaming. Yet, they are always fantastical - inconsistent with what we think of as the reality of our everyday world.

   We cannot act otherwise. Indeed, our ability to discern the difference between dream and reality is one of the ways our sanity is determined. 

   But look at reality. Is it truly more "real" than a dream? Doesn't much of what happens in the world seem unbelievable?

   Of course, if we actually went about our days thinking we were in a dream we might be removed from society - perhaps institutionalized.

   Anesthesia and other drugs place patients in the strangest kinds of states. Even a dose of nitrous oxide in the dentist's office can send us to another world - or certainly to a different consciousness. Mental illness can further redefine our reality in ways that cry out for compassion from caregivers.

   Life "hurts" enough so that we seem to spend much of our waking lives trying to anesthetize ourselves from reality one way or another. The bored nurse, the worn-out board member, the exhausted doctor, the burned out caregiver facing the same intractable patient every day - each one wishes reality were different.

   Our dream state can be a refuge or a nightmare. In other words, just like life. 

   But, dreams can also inform our existence in remarkable and enriching ways. The problem is that most of us discount our dreams so quickly the dream never has a chance to tell us anything.

   A dear friend lost her brother in an accident at sea. She and her mother fretted over the death for a year. One night, our friend dreamed that she was flying. She looked over and there was her brother flying next to her. Then she saw her mother further off in the distance.

   Her brother told her he was fine and that she needed to let him go.

   The next morning, she quickly called her mother. "You'll never believe what I dreamed, mom. Her mother cut her off. "Wait, you will never believed what I dreamed. I was flying and you were too and your brother flew next to us and told us not to worry."

   Dreams can tell us so much. Perhaps, we should listen.

-Erie Chapman 

And there is this: "

"All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes, to make it possible."

--  T. E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia)

 Photograph: Alex Dreaming - copyright erie chapman 2012

Days 275-277 - What Opens the Heart?

   Early autumn in the south. Tired trees exhaust their first leaves. The browning corpses lie collapsed on the ground from which they grew. Their scent disturbs mine. 

   "My heart is closed," the acquaintance of a friend of mine said recently. Her relationship with a longtime partner had shattered. What other way to heal the heart than to close its doors for awhile - to nurse it within some kind of shelter?

   "My patient died on me," I heard a nurse say one morning. "That's the last time I'm going to let myself get that close."

   What closes the heart? What causes us to throw open her windows once again?

   So many love the fall. Since 1955, when my father moved us from southern California's sun to northern Ohio's clouds, I have dreaded it.

   How foolish of me to let my heart be chilled by the arrival of this gorgeous chapter in the year. The south taught me this. It's kinder change of seasons eased my heart back open, nudging me with the wisdom that I could tell myself a new story about autumn.

   It is important to grieve. Like Jews during Yom Kippur, it is healing to honor what (and who) has died and crucial to forgive what must expire in order to passionately embrace the current moment.

   To allow grief and bitterness to close our hearts is to dishonor our soul's power to meet loss with Love. 

   What is the source of the energy that shuts the heart's door, locks it, and casts away the key? Part of the answer lies in the stories we tell ourselves about what has been done to us.

   A nurse says bitterly to herself, "My patient died on me - after all I did for him and how much I loved him." If she keeps repeating this story to herself each day, her ability to heal others will diminish.

   After a Catholic system bought Nashville's Baptist Hospital the leadership promised to keep me on as CEO for five years. Nine months later, they broke that promise.

   Quickly, I created the story that the new leader fired me because he was jealous of my influence and popularity. For two more years, I continued telling myself that story as my heart turned cold toward the new owners.    

   One day, my story changed. My termination had little to do with me and more to do with what the new leadership wanted. I am more than my oft-wounded ego.

   The moment my story changed, so did my life.

   Why do we let painful stories dominate our days? Why not let our spirit, not our ego tell a new story?

   Grieving must come. After that, it is time to build a new story in the moment. It is time to fling open the windows so Love may shine.

-Erie Chapman