Journal of Sacred Work

Days 225-229 - Pairings

   "A helmsman comes, throws a silken rope/ and binds us tightly to each other..." - Czeslaw Milosz

   She drinks quietly from the raindrop on her face. The daisy is beautiful by herself. What happens when her sister arrives?

   Meaning comes in relationship. It is only when you pair with another that the possibility for sacred intimacy arises. One-to-one is where untold chances for love's expression emerge.

   The complexity of our hearts makes it difficult for it to be any other way. To embrace mind, spirit and body with another being in a sacred way means the weaving of a trillion threads. Thus, the intercourse of three or more is usually reduced to a shallower exchange.

   The holy encounter becomes caregiver to patient. Marriage comes among couples (a definition now broadened by our Supreme Court.) There is also, of course, person to pet, mother to daughter, father to son, friend to friend ("threes are hard") & even friend to enemy in a pairing often explored in literature.

   This is not to diminish the energy that can propel some teams to spectacular accomplishment. But, among three or more, intimacy can be dodged. Between two, truth is harder to hide. 

  Consider artist to painting, gardener to garden, leader to caregiver, caregiver to caregiver? What about savior to victim?

   Ultimately, it begins with your relationship to yourself. 

   Pairing matters most when courage marries vulnerability, when intimacy meets truth & when effort & intelligence yield eloquent expression. In Robert Frost's words:

Only where love and need are one,
And the work is play for mortal stakes,
Is the deed ever really done
For Heaven and the future's sakes.

   It is fine to tell someone you love them. It is better to show them. It is best when telling becomes an art & when showing becomes a sacrifice as well as a sacrament. When a couple can live love, not fear. 

-Erie Chapman. 

   Photographs by Erie

Days 223-224: A Spring Inside

“The water that I give will turn into a spring inside welling up.” John 4:14

Water, is an ample analogy for our spiritual life. A well spring of water can renew and replenish our soul yet, at other times the spring may seem almost dry. The people we intersect with in life help us with our soul work. We all enjoy being with people who raise our energy. Yet, our most challenging encounters can be our greatest teachers because they touch our deepest wounds that need and long for healing.

Personally, I am seeing how my attachments and the expectations of others can have a stifling effect.  The difficult task at hand is not to look outside myself to the illusionary cause of pain but to be responsible and look within with honesty and compassion.

I know my ego is cunning, relentless and a master trickster. M. Williamson suggests that pain arises not when we experience hurt but when we close our heart. Love asks so much more of us. Here is where I get stuck, where the sword enters my heart every time…when I try to show loyalty but instead I hold on too tightly to that, which is dear to me.

Yet the river shows us another way; of trusting in the natural unfolding. When we are still enough to listen to the beat of our heart, the universe will provide a divine moment of grace and answer our prayer. The river teaches us to let go of fear and to free others from our grasp as we free ourselves.

All love is eternal. Being present to what arises with acceptance, forgiveness and love is a humbling endeavor.  

‘The good water’ collecting in pools, moving to

another place

rushing in streams

apparent, hidden

a great flow and a small damp

place almost dry

but

deepening for

another time

the enduring river

~By Mother St. John Fontbonne C.S.J. (1759-1843)

Contributed by Liz Sorensen Wessel

Photo: The Old Jelly Mill, Dumerston, Vermont, 2010 by  my friend, Brenda Michelle Carr

Poem: Shared by Sister Madeleva C.S.J.

 

Days 218-222 - Naming Love

[This writing is from the great David Whyte.]

   "Naming love too early is a beautiful but harrowing human difficulty.

   Most of our heartbreak comes from attempting to name who or what we love and the way we love, too early in the vulnerable journey of discovery. We can never know in the beginning, in giving ourselves to a person, to a work, to a marriage or to a cause, exactly what kind of love we are involved with.

   When we demand a certain specific kind of reciprocation before the revelation has flowered completely we find ourselves disappointed and bereaved and in that grief may miss the particular form of love that is actually possible but that did not meet our initial and too specific expectations. Feeling bereft we take our identity as one who is disappointed in love, our almost proud disappointment preventing us from seeing the lack of reciprocation from the person or the situation as simply a difficult invitation into a deeper and as yet unrecognizable form of affection.

   The act of loving itself, always becomes a path of humble apprenticeship, not only in following its difficult way and discovering its different forms of humility and beautiful abasement but strangely, through its fierce introduction to all its many astonishing and different forms, where we are asked continually and against our will, to give in so many different ways, without knowing exactly, or in what way, when or how, the mysterious gift will be returned.

   We name mostly in order to control but what is worth loving does not want to be held within the bounds of too narrow a calling. In many ways love has already named us before we can begin to articulate what is occurring, before we can utter the right words or understand what has happened to us or is continuing to happen to us: an invitation to the most difficult art of all, to love without naming at all."

-Written by David Whyte - excerpted from Naming

Photograph: "Window flowers, New Orleans" by Erie

Days 216-217 Weave Upon Weave

Let's take this moment to celebrate our fathers, ancestors and the men who have deeply influenced our lives.

My father was an only child. He and my mom brought six children into this world and we grew up in my dad’s childhood home. We lived in a neighborhood where everyone knew you by your family. "Oh you are Phil's daughter or I know your sister...you are the spittin' image of  your brother." We belonged. I was elated to be part of the Sorensen clan.

Although we did not have much material wealth, my dad was a good provider. His spirituality was expressed through his generous nature and warm hospitality. Friends were always welcome and there was plenty of food to share accompanied by good times. My dad had a sense of humor and was a big kidder to the point of embarrassment of his children. My father was happiest when we had a houseful of guests.

He discovered life’s finest richness in relationship. Friendship and family were of prime importance. In this way, my father created meaningful connections and a real sense of community.

As a child my dad was bigger than life to me. In my teenage years his imperfections were mostly what I noticed. As a parent I held a new appreciation "Oh so this is what it must have been like for him too." His humanness shone through with an understanding that we are all wounded by life to some degree and we make some mistakes along the way. Yet, what I never doubted was his love for me. I feel blessed to carry these experiences within me and I am grateful for the gifts he lovingly bestowed, even though there were times I may not have recognized his gift. 

                                                                                                    Who has influenced your life?

Poem “For a Father” by John O’ Donohue

The longer we live,
The more of your presence
We find, laid down,
Weave upon weave
Within our own lives.

 The quiet constancy of your gentleness
Drew no attention to itself,
Yet filled our home
With a climate of kindness
Where each mind felt free
To seek its own direction.

 As the fields of distance
Opened inside childhood,
Your presence was a sheltering tree
Where our fledgling hearts could rest.

 The earth seemed to trust your hands
As they tilled the soil, put in the seed,
Gathered together the lonely stones.

Something in you loved to inquire
In the neighborhood of air,
Searching its transparent rooms
For the fallen glances of God.

 The warmth and wonder of your prayer
Opened our eyes to glimpse
The subtle ones who
Are eternally there.

 Whenever silently, in off moments,
The beauty of the whole thing overcame you,
The look from your eyes
Like a kiss alighting on skin.

 There are many things
We could have said,
But words never wanted
To name them;
And perhaps a world
That is quietly sensed
Across the air
In another’s heart
Becomes the inner companion
To one’s own unknown. 

 

Blessings upon thee on this Father’s Day! 

 

Contributed by Liz Sorensen Wessel
Photo  of my parents colorized by my nephew Dan Maio
Mandala by ~liz

Days 211-215 - Movie Moments, Life Moments (Reading time - 57 seconds)

   My dad was head of the Hollywood YMCA when I was a kid growing up in the 1950s. It was a big deal to me when stars like Art Linkletter or Charles Bronson would show up to exercise or Bob Hope would appear at a "Y" fundraiser at the Hollywood Bowl. 

   There were others characters who lived at the "Y." Dad explained that these were "bit" players. "Don't blink or you'll miss me, kid," one of them said to me once. I remember some of their names, Wheaton Chambers and Stubby Kruger, for example.

   In movies since then I have often found myself noticing those barely seen people. Some seem like set pieces instead of human beings. Consider the woman & two men in the scene I photographed from the 1950 film noir classic "Gun Crazy"(screenplay by the great, wrongly-blacklisted writer Dalton Trumbo.) This picture is beautiful to me. The ticket taker (not in the credits) looks as lonely as a subject in an Edward Hopper painting (notice the shadow slanting above her head.) Moments & people like these evaporate into the ether unnoticed by the millions who saw them on a silver screen for a few seconds. 

   We are all bit players, I suppose. Each film (like every life) is thousands of images strung together & run through a projector at twenty-four frames per second. Yet, each frame is a moment.

   When we review our lives we all say the same thing. Like a movie, it all went so fast. That is because we are not reliving each second. We are compressing our entire lives into a quick reflection. It is an illusion that time flew.

   For caregivers who have learned to live in "the now" every moment is important. So is every so-called "bit player." 

-Erie Chapman   

Days 207-208: “Bless the Space between Us”

It was nine years ago, this week that an extraordinary soul opened the pages of this Journal and invited caregivers from all around the world to enter in. Here in this space, he offers us refuge from the fast pace to rest a while and to replenish our spirits.

We celebrate the labor of love that Erie Chapman has freely offered throughout this decade by gifting us with his exquisite images of Beauty, prose, storytelling, poetry and wisdom. He has opened sacred pathways of seeing that acknowledges caregiving as an art that intertwines with science.  

Erie breathes life into healthcare with his visionary leadership and tireless efforts to cultivate Radical Loving Care. He recognizes that Love is the true means of healing. He mentors and encourages each of us to respond to the call, fall in love with our work and to approach caregiving
with a Servant’s Heart.

At times he has challenged our assumptions and shook us free from complacency. He can stretch us beyond our comfort zone and emboldens us to become our better selves. Erie has shared personal experiences with a poignancy that only one living with chronic illness can understand. He reminds us of the vulnerabilities that accompany illness and teaches above all else to love deeply through his love of caregivers. And in this precious companionship together, our journey has led to an alchemy. For we know cannot go back, nor we would we want to, because our lives are inexplicably changed forever.

John O’ Donohue describes an Anam Cara experience, which “opens a friendship that is not wounded or limited by separation or distance. Such friendship can remain alive even when the friends live far away from each other. Because they have broken through the barriers of persona and egoism to the soul level, the unity of their souls is not easily severed. When the soul is awakened, physical space is transfigured. Even across the distance friends can stay attuned to each other’s lives.”

Thank you dear Anam Cara friends. To give is to receive and so we are blessed tenfold by your presence, for without you this Journal could not continue. We are grateful to those who remain invisible, yet your presence is equally affirming. The handful of people who comment, you enliven these pages in a way that enriches the experience for all. We have come to witness time and again how expansive love really is.

Thank you for your blessings and gratitude to Erie Chapman for inspiring us to live “Love, not fear.”

Liz Sorensen Wessel

Photos: #1 Sanctuary & #3 Guatemala by ~liz;  #2 Self Portrait by Erie Chapman

Bless the Space between Us (title of book by John O'Donohue)

Days 201-205 - Sex

   Even today the word startles us like no other. It is the forbidden subject reserved for academic settings or R-rated movies. 

   That is why, thirty years ago, our minister picked "Sex" as his sermon topic & posted it on the church marquee. It worked. The church set a record for attendance that exceeded Easter!

   The idea that our minister would use such a shocking title caused hundreds to lean forward in their pews that Sunday. Some were relieved when Reverend Argow addressed the subject academically. Were others hoping that actors would appear dressed as Adam and Eve? 

   Obviously, sexual intercourse demands privacy. Nudity can also shock us unless it appears in a de-sexualized context - as with your doctor or as art.  But, some people are so frightened of nakedness in any form that one woman complained when I hung the accompanying photograph in my office. Raised a Southern Baptist, the chasm between art that honors the human figure & pornography that degrades it was lost on her.

   Love determines whether any encounter is sacred or profane. 

   Over the weekend Liz Wessel published an essay here called "The entering" & included a poem that describes, "A reverent time/ When we offer ourselves and we connect...we are privileged and somewhat/ In awe; that we are permitted to witness the human spirit at its finest." 

   The subject was hospice caregivers. But true lovers treat sexual "entering" the same way - as "a reverent time." The word sex made us giggle as kids. Mature adults & artists treat the unclothed form with awe & respect rather than with shame & fear. 

   Caregiving routinely requires intimate encounters with patients. Loving caregivers see such encounters as part of their sacred work.    

-Reverend Erie Chapman

Photograph by Erie 

Days 199-200 The Entering

The following poem captures the essence of hospice and home care so beautifully.

The Entering

We enter their lives, their homes

A time of such turmoil and sadness

And we witness to the most remarkable people that ever were.

 

We enter their homes, their lives

And marvel and wonder at what we see

And we are touched by their courage and their willingness to share.

 

We enter their lives, their homes

Hoping to make a difference in the time that is left

Yet knowing all the time that in reality, they will make

Such a difference in our lives, that we will never be the same.

 

We are entering their homes, their lives

And try to imagine how things would be if life were reversed

And we would be opening up our lives to complete strangers

On a journey we did not choose to take.

 

The entering – A reverent time

When we offer ourselves and we connect

When we are saddened but also privileged and somewhat

In awe; that we are permitted to witness the human spirit at its finest.

~Anon

 “What if we could offer our work as a gift so lightly, and with so much love, that that’s really the source of fearlessness? We don’t need it to be accepted in any one way. We don’t need it to create any certain outcome. We don’t need it to be any one thing. It is in the way we offer it, that the work transforms us. It is in the way we offer our work as a gift to those we love, to those we care about, to the issues we care about. It is in the way we offer the work that we find fearlessness. Beyond hope and fear, I think, is the possibility of love.”  ~Margaret Wheatley

The entering…

Contributed by Liz Sorensen Wessel

Drawing of home by ~liz