Journal of Sacred Work

Days 361-365 - Becoming More Beautiful Through Your Best Self

"...as we begin to recognize...beauty, we become more beautiful ourselves." - Plotinus 

   When Laura Hillenbrand met Louis Zamperini (left) the hero of her book, Unbroken, she first studied his hands. There were the scars from a bird that pecked at him while he struggled to survive at sea & the mark where his wedding ring caught in the wreckage of his downed plane.

   Through those scars Hillebrand connected with the truth & beauty of Zamperini's suffering & survival. Perhaps she believes, as did Simone Signoret, that "individual courage is the only interesting thing in life " and its own ladder to Love.

   We seek Beauty - often through fairy tales or in magic. But, she is always near. She lives in your mirror & in every patient you see.  

   Does your soul seem enigmatic because you imagine it will materialize for examination? Plotinus wrote in the Ennead that "...because it has no size, the Soul's nature...contains the whole cosmic body in one and the same grasp."

   We enter our beauty's mystery by conversing with love at the deepest level. How do you talk with your scars? Which of your truths are too painful to touch? How do you experience a dying rose?

   Conversely, how do you befriend your most beautiful encounters? Each happened because you brought your best self to those engagements. Bring that self to each new encounter.

   Your scars begin to heal when you face them. Your heart strengthens when your pain allows you to ease another's. 

   Deep encounters happen only through radical persistence - rare because most of us sip only life's surface. Zamparini met torture with superhuman courage & survived to savor Beauty. Hillenbrand herself summoned uncommon strength to outlast Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.

   Beauty is Love's finest prize. Every time you find her you become more beautiful.

   Invite your best self to every encounter: with friends or enemies, with sun or amid storms, and Beauty will always appear. 

-Erie Chapman

Days 359-360...And Into the New

 

The Old Year Runs Away From Me ~by Joyce Rupp

The old year runs away from me.

I hang onto her sleeve

But she shakes me loose.

Where does the old year go

When the new year comes?

 

She slips away into memories,

Falls into the crevices of wishes

And ought-to-have-dones.

She waits no longer upon promises,

Turns her back on might-have-been.

 

The elves of the old year step in,

Pack up the struggles, store the joys,

Tuck them away in the bulging box

Spreading out on the psyche’s floor.

 

It’s up to the new year now.

I bring a lot to her domain:

Expectations, dreams, hopes,

And I place them all before

Her strong, abundant door.

 

I walk into her untamed territory,

With meek apprehension

And a vast sense of mystery.

Assured by the welcome I receive,

 

Anxious about what is waiting

Behind the drawn window shade,

Curious about what I will discover

In the hidden folds of her new days. 

 

... as we enter into the new year may we pause and reflect on how precious life is with the awareness that it is always going. The most treasured gift we can give or receive are small gestures of thoughtfulness offered in the spirit of love and friendship.

The gifts of the heart are indeed those long remembered and the ones that we carry within to sustain us in challenging times.

Within these pages we have discovered one another and cultivated a community that nurtures and celebrates our diverse journeys. We have travelled together and in doing so helped each other to stretch and grow.

May the Love that connects us all provide comfort and peace, no matter how near or far our roads may take us.

 

Contributed by Liz Sorensen Wessel

Photo by my lovely neice, Lisa Gayle 

 

Days 359-362 - Christmas Hope Returns

  Can anything new be said about Christmas hope? Even this kind of photograph (left) has been made before. It is hopeful to me only because of this is one of my grandchildren.

   Hope at age four is different than hope at forty-four or fifty-four. But it may not be different than hope in later years. 

   Some of the magic that rings true at four is nothing but a trick by eight and nonsense by eighteen. Cynicism takes up lodging darkening the life view of many. 

   One day a Divinity school professor said something that changed my view: "Most adults are cynics," he said. "But, some folks live long enough to learn that the myths & the magic are true."

   Hope lost is hope revived when the truth dawns in our hearts that Love is as real as God.

-Reverend Erie Chapman

Days 357-361 - What's in your name?

   Twenty-five years ago my older sister suggested it was time to drop my childhood nickname, "Chip." She sent me a hilarious New Yorker cartoon in which a woman actually says to an elderly man: "Aren't you a little old to be called Chip?"  

   Since then, I have used Erie, my given name. It still feels awkward. "Chip" is the enthusiastic kid I always liked. "Erie" is the adult who has sometimes made harsh decisions. I don't always like that fellow. 

   In fact, as the photograph symbolizes, many identities live within. 

   Do you remember the first time you formed your name on paper? Now, you have a signature in this world. If you have changed, is it time to re-identify yourself?

   Nuns receive new names. Many women adopt another name at marriage. Most movie stars & many authors change their names & birth a new stage in their lives.

   Titles are a kind of name. I became so identified as a CEO that when I no longer was one I faced a crisis of self-worth.

   Eight years ago I took a second name as a film artist, initially as protection from conservative employers finding my art objectionable. Now, I see it as naming who I am - an artist who does healthcare work rather than the reverse. 

   One performing artist friend says she sees her pen name as a new autograph for her heart. "I'm not the same person. Using my chosen name affirms who I have become. Sometimes, my old name pulls me backward."

  At Christmas we honor one whose name thrills light into billions of hearts. What illumination does your name bring you & others?

     Simon Weil wrote that "If we go down into ourselves, we find that we possess exactly what we desire."

    The heart is the home of your true identity. What name does your heart desire? Has the "deep down" of you yet found a full expression you can name?

   What if you secretly re-christened yourself this Christmas?

-Erie Chapman

Self Portrait 1977 -by Erie 

Days 354-355 Deepest Gratitude

Listening to Christmas  by Alan Harris

 

Have you ever heard snow?

 

Not the howling wind of a blizzard,

 

not the crackling of snow underfoot,

 

but the actual falling of snow?

 

We heard it one night in Wisconsin

 

quite unexpectedly

 

while walking up a hill

 

toward our cabin in the woods,

 

a soft whisper between footsteps.

 

We stopped, switched off our flashlights,

 

and just listened.

 

All around us in the darkness

 

we heard the gentle fall

 

of snow on snow.

 

No wind, no sound

 

but the snow.

 

Have you ever heard Christmas?

 

Not the traffic noises in the city,

 

not the bells and hymns and carols,

 

beautiful as they are,

 

not even the laughter of your children

 

as they open their presents—

 

but Christmas itself?

 

Have you been by yourself

 

and just sat and listened to the silence within,

 

patiently, without letting the mind

 

race to the next Christmas chore?

 

Perhaps if you have,

 

you felt the pulse of all humanity

 

beating in your own heart.

 

Perhaps you noticed

 

an outflowing of love

 

for all your brothers and sisters

 

on the earth,

 

a soft sense of Oneness

 

with all that lives.

 

In the silence of a snowy night,

 

listen intently, holding your breath,

 

and you may hear snow on snow.

 

Serene, alone,

 

undisturbed by thought,

 

listen to the silence in your heart,

 

and you may hear Christmas.

 

"Each of us has great cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us." - Albert Schweitzer

Merry Christmas with love and deep gratitude,

~liz

Mandala of the Sorensen home, Vermont

Days 350-354 - Soft Moments

    The sun abandons us early in December's days. Amid the longer nights illuminatation rises indoors - the fireplace, the candle flames of Hanukkah, lights resting on the limbs of Christmas trees.

   We live for light. 

   Yes, we know that the illumination that matters comes from within. But, it sure does help the soul to experience light from without.

  Walk into this picture. Join this woman in some soft moments.

   The lighted fronds reach for her hands as her hair catches the sun. Even the camera's eye flares ovals of aqua, orange & green. 

   Soft moments have a lovely innocence. You can become like the rose in these words from sixteenth century poet Angelus Silesius: The Rose is without why/ She blooms because she blooms/ She does not care for herself/ Asks not if she is seen.

  By yourself you can choose to let go . Your soul can find the rest you not only want but must have in order to be a pathway of light for others.

  Give yourself the luxury of more soft moments. Let Love's light bloom within you. 

-Erie Chapman

Days 348-349 Amazing Grace

Each week I look for a clue and I wonder if something will bubble up that may inspire or delight readers. Sometimes the well spring is dry or I may be surprised by how the page comes to life with a splash of color. Whatever it might be, my intention is to come forth from a place of genuineness.

When we give expression to the quiverings of the heart or dare to speak of what weighs on us, this naming out loud holds power. Suddenly words magnify our experience and we may wish our thoughts had remained an unheard whisper. This is especially true, when the listener feels a need to give us an answer to our heart’s question.

Today, I am floating on a vast sea of emptiness. Not the kind of message I wish to offer in this season of blessings. Be it ever so unadorned, I wish to be congruent with what I feel. I can trust that these shades of greying blues, green and lavender have a story to tell. In the unravelling and stirrings within we are freed from our darkness, but only when we stop struggling to get away.

In stillness, we befriend our cast off selves. “Be still and know that I am.”

I thought of our many moments of meaningful connection in this great big constellation of life; of beautiful beings who offer generous hospitality, humor amid poignancy, kindness in turmoil. Yes, this vast open sea holds an amazing grace.

Liz Sorensen Wessel

Mandala by ~liz

Days 343-347 - a catholic truth

“The word catholic (with lowercase c;) comes from the Greek phrase katholou, meaning "on the whole.” The word in English can mean "all-embracing."

  There are no similes in the Catholic (with uppercase C) Church.

 In Catholic communion the consecrated bread is not like the body of Christ it is the body of Christ. 

 The blessed wine is not like the blood of Christ it is the blood of Christ.

 Your experience of time is not like mine simply because we use the same clock.

 

   After you have reached into the blood of a woman to withdraw her baby (forever separating them)

no one knows your experience just because their hands have done the same.

   After you have tasted the agony of a suffering man

the texture of your heart is not now like another’s.

   After you have smelled infection

no one can claim they know how you felt when that noise struck your nose.

   After you have watched a patient die

no teacher can say, “I know how you felt because my experience was like yours.”

 

There are no similies in your life.

Only metaphors.

 

You are not like the body of love.

You are the body of love.

 

This catholic truth is your all-embracing secret.

 

-Erie Chapman 

Days 340-341 "That's What Skin Does"

“Skin had hope, that's what skin does. Heals over the scarred place, makes a road.” 

~ Naomi Shihab Nye (from 19 Varieties of Gazelle: Poems of the Middle East.

I write to you in the early hours of the morning. This predawn, primordial time of darkness is rich with free form creativity. The canvas is wide open, the clay shapeless, and the open page blank.

 I enter the quiet with reverence and cherish this sacred time of being. Here, I sit within the chambers of The Heart.  There is an untethered simplicity to be discovered in the in between spaces, for this is Holy ground.

Most times there is the temptation is to peddle faster because our agendas are overfull and everything is spinning faster. This is where I struggle especially at this time of year. Yet, we need moments of pause, free from clutter's noise and distraction to listen and nurture our spirits. When we continue on in overdrive we become more susceptible to the ill effects of stress and the accompanying anxiety.  

Our world holds much darkness but we can still can count on sun’s thawing illumination. Amid all the turmoil, our universe reveals a constancy of purpose. No matter how difficult a situation or circumstance; life offers us hope. Hope is informed by Love.  

 

 

 

 

In this season of Advent we are invited to enter into communion with one another and the Source of our being. Be it ever so simply by showing up to share a meal, a conversation, or a laugh or two, we receive a precious gift.

 

Love is ever present. Love seeks us. The door opens from within, receive Her blessing.

 

 

 

Liz Sorensen Wessel

Watercolor by ~liz

Days 335-339 - A Glimpse of Paradise

   With no intention my tiny granddaughter pierces my heart. How can she look back at us with such a wise & regal gaze when she is only three months into her life journey?

   "I arrived in the star-filled dark,/ found myself remembering/ the first time I woke/ astonished,/ next to someone beautiful."

   Thank you, Stephen Dunn.

   Seeing this image, I thought of how you & I awake next to beauty every day & often find it hidden because of another reality described by Dunn in a different poem: "Bosnians, Sudanese, flicker into our lives,/ flicker out. To think of them is to lose/ any right to complain."

   But, I do complain. The starvation, the torture, the thirst in the world for water & for love. Who can find Beauty amid such flickers of horror except by imagining how caregivers like you reach out with Love to meet need.

   After Dunn writes of waking up "next to someone beautiful" he crowns our lives with his next verse: "Always I wanted to save/ the word magnificent/...for what truly lifts the ceiling."

   Thank you for your moments of magnificence - for how you brighten a world filled with suffering.

   Thank you for the times when you "lift the ceiling," offering a glimpse of paradise.

-Erie Chapman