Journal of Sacred Work

Days 28-29 Begin

"The artist is not a special kind of person; rather each person is a special kind of artist." — Ananda Coomaraswamy

There is nothing quite as intimidating as the parched desert of a blank page. An infinite number of distractions tug at one's sleeve when sitting down to write. “I’ll just to this one thing,” which leads to another, and then another in a side step shuffle of delay.

Nonetheless, the best way to get beyond a vast horizon of procrastination is to simply begin.

Begin. Even if what chugs out is a rusty syllable or two, one need not fret ‘cause there is plenty of opportunity to do some polishing.  It’s surprising how one little thought conjures up a mate that bumps into some newfangled inkling. Before long, ideas spill forth as though they are running to greet a cherished friend, not seen for a fortnight.

I recall, that Erie once encouraged my writing efforts by telling me to notice how the process affects the quality of our lives.  Recently,  I read the novel, “An American Childhood” by author Annie Dillard.  In this splendid autobiographical book, the author recounts her desire as young girl  to observe and commit to memory everything that happened in life before it was lost forever. In this way, when we write of our experiences and our imaginings, we record images that convey clarity, transmuting fading remembrances in focused appreciation.

Sometimes, when my thoughts spread out to indelibly ink the parchment of my heart they become bigger than life. Certainly, more bold. Writing my experiences intermingles with the myth of my dreams in a sacred manner. Creative expression reveals a kaleidoscope of color in translucent hues amidst dark silhouettes.

So often people cannot see themselves as creative and are unwilling to try on the robe of an artist. Distancing words crowd out all possibility, “Oh no, not me. No, I can’t draw anything but chicken scratch, nor paint or write for I have no imagination. I can’t sing or act. Dance?  Why I have two left feet! No don’t play an instrument, can’t even carry a tune. Why, I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.”  The white flag of defeat waves presumptuously.

Who told us these things? Were we so convinced that we gave up long before ever trying? Some say that I have artistic tendencies. Yet, what I see is those artistic qualities in the person before me. When I pick up a brush and swirl color it is my way of expressing Love. (Of course, practice by doing helps in whatever artistic endeavor we gravitate towards).

The gift of a creative spirit manifests in each of us in the most profound ways:  For my mom, it is in 96 years of letter writing, for a child; a sense of wonder, for a lover; intimacy, for a friend; devotion, for a stranger; becoming family…

Perhaps, we cultivate the art of living when we give our complete attention to what is in front of us. In these days, when technology lures us toward instant gratification, it can become exceeding difficult to commit to spiritual practices. Yet, if we offer our wholehearted presence to what we love we may notice an enhanced quality in our experiences.

 Caregivers are artists of a noble kind. Their listening hearts’ create a blank canvas where each person is seen, recognized and genuinely loved for what they are.

~liz Sorensen Wessel

Note: Above drawing is called, "Hands" and is a lithograph by the Dutch artist M. C. Escher which was first printed in January 1948. Don't you love it?

Days 345-346 Little Surprises

Note: Weekend essay by guest contributor ~liz Sorensen Wessel

Thanksgiving  provides ample opportunity to reflect on an abundance of blessings in our midst. The anticipation of celebrating with family and friends is often coupled with our expectations, as we envision a perfect occasion spent with loved ones. Yet, the expectations we conjure in our minds may take us down a slippery slope of disappointment.

 Unless of course, we choose to see a little differently. I find that when I let go of my preconceived notions and surrender to life’s poignant contradictions and paradoxes, little surprises arise that can delight one's soul.

 Moments of  little  surprises laced with abiding love:

•  Some come in spontaneous; split second decisions that well up suddenly and spill over in a resounding yes, as intuition spurs us forward (like a first step one never regrets.)
•  As an unexpected conversation, that takes us both beyond mere social pleasantries into a sense of wonder.
•  In hearts that risk opening to vulnerability with a desire to cross the threshold of acceptance to the sacredness of unconditional love and friendship (as revealed in a true Anam Cara.) A treasured friend, who has space for feelings without judgment, does not try to fix, nor tell us how we should feel.
•  At a time of great loss, for some reason you and I were there, listening and bearing witness as a bereaved lover gave testimony to the immensity of love.
• I left S. Dakota in the very early morning the day after Thanksgiving. My son drove me to the airport and we chatted as the car weaved through the darkness of the country roads. My granddaughter chirped sweet sing-song chatter in the back seat. The sun was busy awakening sky's passion in deep crimson, turning indigo blue, then golden.
•  Touching upon emptiness, we learn how to befriend our fears.
• A mom catches the magnificent spirit of her little girl as she takes a walk in the woods.

 Writing this tonight, I feel an affinity towards the little surprises that catch us unaware and catapult us into mindful awareness of the preciousness of our relationships with each other. It is in this spirit that I wish to share an extraordinary video, contributed by our dear Journal friend, Candace Nagle.

 ~liz Sorensen Wessel

 

  Note: above photo above taken by my niece, Lisa Gayle Italiano of her Daughter Raegan

Days 312-313 (In)significance: Not Everyone Knows My Name

 "Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it."–Mahatma Gandhi

 I was just a child when I first realized that someday I would die. I could not fathom how the world could possibly go on without me, for surely,  the earth would stop turning on its axis!

 At 18, being young and adventurous, I quit my job and traveled with my best friend,  Susan. Upon  return, I visited an elderly woman I had cared for while working at the Brattleboro Retreat. To my great disappointment, she did not remember me. I wondered, how could this be? When I left her, I had a good cry.

 While in nursing school (age 21) I moved in with family friends to help care for Margie. She was dying from cancer. I thought about my own eventual non-being on this earth. At the time, I imagined a void of  complete nothingness, which was beyond my comprehension.  Elizabeth Kubler-Ross opened a window to my understanding of how death gives meaning to life.

 I have been working in N. CA for the past few months. On a recent weekend home, I attended a social event at my faith community.  In conversation with a fellow parishioner it was apparent that he was not aware I had been away.  I felt a little heart pang when I  realized I had not been missed.

 Each of these occurrences, though small, were poignant moments in my life. Although embarrassingly ego-based, they had one thing in common; they all accentuated an awareness of my insignificance.

 October 24, 2010 marked the one-year anniversary of Dr. Stanley vandenNort’s death and we gathered to remember him and to celebrate his life. At the church service the pastor asked, “What is the question of your life? A questioned surfaced for me, what is the significance of my life?
After mass, we met at the vandenNoort home. We gathered in an inclusive circle of family, patients and friends. We  shared personal stories of how this man's  impact on each of us was bigger than life. Why, because Dr. V lived Love. He was a man driven…by Love. He was humble,  down to earth and extremely generous with his time and attention. He gave himself unreservedly to people he cared for. His extraordinary compassion and humor complimented his brilliant mind and skillful science. His beneficence knew no bounds. One by one, we acknowledged that there was something unique, miraculous even, about Dr. V’s caregiving. When we came full circle,  a man returned to the pastor’s question  and passionately affirmed that Dr. V’s life was significant.

 I knew I had just heard the answer to my life’s question.  Although, this man was speaking about  Dr. V, I believe it was also a message for me. (I love how God speaks to me through the voice of others). I realize that my life is a mere flicker of a flame compared to Dr. V’s brilliance. It is not my aim to compare. More, to honor his memory  as I grapple with life's impermanence and my own feelings of insignificance. 

For all of us, for those we love, or have loved, for all who are missed or not, long remembered or only in passing, forgotten or insignificant. The truth is, every moment we  Love our life has significance.

~liz Sorensen Wessel

 The following video is by Kevin Champion made for his Digital Ethnography class at Kansas State University (Dr. Mike Wesch – Spring, 2009). In it, Kevin attempted to layout what has been called the "crisis of significance" that we may sometimes experience in our world today.
 
 
 

Days 279-281 - Leviticus & The Rules of Caring

     Last Saturday, I met a man who is scheduled to die. Unless there is a stay of execution, on November 9, 2010, guards will enter Steve's cell, walk him down a hallway, put him on a gurney, and kill him. His executioner will, of course, be following government orders.

    I wonder if Steve will have any caregivers alongside him on his fatal walk? Will anyone who accompanies him recognize that he, too, is a child of God?

   There are many kinds of homicide. In every case, a killing is judged by one of the world's rules. The minority live by God's rules. Loving caregivers know the difference.  

   The writers of Levitcus thought they were articulating God's law when they wrote: "Anyone who kills a human being shall be put to death....Anyone who maims another shall suffer the same injury in return: fracture for fracture, eye for eye, tooth for tooth; the injury inflicted is the injury suffered." - Leviticus 24:17 & 19-20

      Leviticus is a set of old rules, not the language of Jesus - or of another great Lover, Mahatma Gandhi, who wrote: "If we practice and eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, pretty soon the whole world will be blind and toothless."

      As part of my current efforts at caregiving, I have begun ministering to Steve. Like every inmate on Tennesee's Death Row, he is locked up alone. No one else has been visiting him.

   Contrary to my long-ago career as a prosecutor and judge, my work as a Christian minister is not about guilt or innocence. I am to help this man encounter God, not the courts. My other Death Row inmate tells me the way I can help him best is simply to "show up." He understands another key aspect of caregiving - presence.

   Ever since I began working in hospitals in 1975, I have been startled by the similarity of the rules that govern both prisons and hospitals and have written about this subject often. For in most hospitals, patients are treated, (unintentionally, of course) as hostages.

    We take patients and make them prisoners. Naturally, it's all for their own good.

   Still, consider the process of being admitted. As patients, our clothes are exchanged for a humiliating gown, we are numbered and we are placed in a room that is sometimes not unlike a cell (often with a complete stranger as a roommate.)

   Our freedom is severely restricted. Friends may only visit during hours prescribed by the institution. As sick people, we are too often made to wait endlessly for a bewildering array of tests during which our bodies are stripped, poked, marked and otherwise invaded by people who literally, if not figuratively, look down upon our helpless selves. They intend to be good caregivers. The repetitive nature of their work can, however, deaden their humanity so that they end up treating us like numbered bodies instead of suffering humans.

   But, what about Steve? What does his life have to do with caregiving? After all, doesn't he deserve to die for taking the life of another? Didn't he violate one of the ten commandments?

   The answer to the last question has been answered by the courts. As for the other questions, we need only ask: what happens to our humanity whenever we take the life of another? When Steve is eventually executed, will the state breaking the same commandment as did Steve?

   In even broader terms, terms that apply to all of us, what happens to our humanity when we follow any rule that violates Love, even if that rule is somehow grounded in the Bible?

   Anyone who takes the Bible literally must not have read Leviticus. Here is one of hundreds of examples from this two-thousand-year old book of rules:  "One who blasphemes the name of the Lord shall be put to death; the whole congregation shall stone the blasphemer." Leviticus 24:16.

   According to this verse, God says anyone who swears shall be executed. Even worse, the execution has to be conducted by all of his fellow congregants. If we follow this Biblical rule, would we have to execute half the world's population?  

   The rules of Leviticus sound ridiculous to modern ears. Do you think that if I or swear we should be executed? Of course not. Are we supposed to follow the Old Testament injunction by killing certain animals and offering them as a sacrifice to God? Of course not. Is a divorced woman who remarries an adulterer? Of course not. But Leviticus claims there are are rules straight from God. 

   If we look through the lens of Love we see  that most of Leviticus' is not the word of God. It is simply the dictates of Rabbis and priests seeking to create an orderly society thousands of years ago.   

   "Are you a Christian?" people in Tennessee sometimes ask me. "Yes," I say. "Good," they respond, suggesting that if I had said "No, I'm Jewish," or "No, I'm Muslim," that would not be good - and maybe I wouldn't be either.

   "How are you doing loving your enemies?" I sometimes ask these fellow Christians, quoting the injunction to us from Jesus that he delivered in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5.)

   They laugh, of course. "Love my enemies?" the idea seems preposterous to these Christians, even if they follow the view that the Bible comes to us as a perfect translation of God's word.

   Have you ever read some of Jesus' other "rules" contained in this same, beautiful sermon given by Jesus to his disciples? "Give to anyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you." (Matthew 5:44) How are you doing with this instruction? If following all of the rules in the Bible is a requirement for being either a good Jew or a good Christian, I am done for.

   Here's the truth: God's Love asks us to live by wisdom and compassion. God does not want us to adhere like robots to society's laws no matter what.

   Love calls caregivers to use our heads and our hearts - to follow the rules when that is wise and compassionate and to break them (or stretch them) when following those rules would violate God's truth.

   Good caregivers know when to loosen up on visiting hours in the interest of Love. And the best and most courageous caregivers choose to stand up to overbearing supervisors when rules conflict with God's Love.

   Steve may die on November 9. If he does, I believe that killing will be one more blow to God's Love and to our humanity.

   Each day, caregivers have the chance to lift up humanity by treating the downtrodden - and each other, as children of God. No other rule matters.

-Reverend Erie Chapman, J.D. 

Days 144-145 Everything Is a Miracle

        "If you could imagine the most incredible story ever, it would be less incredible than the story of our being alive on this earth." ~John O' Donohue         

  Watercolor by ~liz  5/3/10

Mandala is the Sanskrit word for sacred circle. Each of my drawings originate within a circle which symbolizes God; a beginning without end, inclusive, unconditional. The center represents the essence of God's Love, pure spiritual Light and union. A mandala is a microcosm of life and a macrocosm of the universe.  Polarities are characteristic as in nature with each element having an opposite, such as darkness and light, joy and sorrow, winter and summer, love and fear. Yet, ultimately there is no  separation because everything is interdependent and co-exists as One whole. 

The process of drawing a mandala invites a sense of integration and harmony. One begins to experience a greater awareness of how all our differing parts are necessary in creating the fullness of life. Many of the mandalas I’ve drawn are detailed designs that require focused attention. All are drawn with Loving intention.

In the mandala pictured above, I did not wish to control the process but rather open to trusting the process. I felt a peaceful calm come over me as the brush revealed a story on the page. Midway through, I encountered the shadowy territory of self-doubt. The colors were bleeding into one another in disarray. I thought about giving up and throwing the painting away when Sr. Madaleva’s voice popped into my head, “Don’t throw anything away, Liz. Art is like life. Sometimes things are chaotic and messy. Your paints might run together and turn brown like mud. Yet, if you hang in there what you thought was mucky might turn out to be beautiful in the end."  Curiously, I now notice this drawing is without polarity and defined borders. Increasingly, this is how I am coming to view life. God may be hidden from sight but Love's presence is always within us.

"There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled. There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled. You feel it, Don't you?" ~Rumi

I wish to share the following song with you by Peter Mayer called, "Holy Now." He sings a revelation, "Everything is a miracle, everything is Holy now."  Everything, even mud amid the changes of being alive.

What are you quick to discard from your life? What if you did not give up too quickly and did not toss it away?

~Liz Sorensen Wessel

Days 86-87 Charlie’s Last Day & The Devil Dog

 Pets are the best kind of family as they offer us unconditional love and acceptance. The therapeutic benefits of pets and their seeming sixth sense in times of trouble are well documented. Some hospitals, nursing homes and hospices offer pet visits because of their engaging encounters. People are simply drawn to these furry creatures who seem to love us, no matter what.The following are my remembrances of two very different dogs that were a part of my family's experience.

 Charlie’s Last Day

  I grew up in a family of nine, my parents, six kids, and Charlie, a benevolent Old English Sheep dog. I would like to tell you about Charlie’s final day on earth. Charlie was 13 when he died at my parent’s home in Vermont. Earlier that day he wandered off across the road, which was quite unusual for him. Our neighbor, Mrs. Brooks, found Charlie behind the barn with a dazed look, confused and lost. Miraculously she found the strength and fortitude to pick Charlie up and carried him all the way back to our house. This was no easy feat since he was a big dog who weighed about 80 pounds. We will be forever grateful to Mrs. Brooks for her incredibly kind and heroic gesture.

That evening mom cooked a steak dinner for Charlie. Boy, he really enjoyed that steak. She stayed up with Charlie until about midnight and gently petted him while her voice soothed him with her sweetest love. She confided in him, letting him know what a wonderful dog he was, the best any family could hope for, and she told him that she loved him. Charlie died that night. I have always adored my mom for being there for Charlie in that way. Our pets become our cherished family members and we grieve for them when they die.

 The Devil Dog

  Some years later, Shoo Shoo, a miniature toy poodle, came into my parent’s lives and stole their hearts. This little fur ball with a black gumdrop nose and cute persona proved deceptive. For Shoo Shoo had a nasty habit of biting people, quite unexpectedly and without provocation. My parents loved this dog, yet the rest of our clan was quite uneasy around him because he might strike at any time and when you least expected. We worried that he might bite one of our children but in my parents eyes this dog could do no wrong. They staunchly defended him when any objections arose. Once Shoo Shoo attacked my mom, giving her a bad bite on her hand, still her loyalty was unshaken. His temperament grew worse with age and we cautiously avoided him. If he jumped up on the couch and sat next to one of us, our movements froze in a statue pose. Our family, with the exception of my parents, came to know him as the infamous “devil dog.”

In December of 1995, my father was dying of cancer. I came home to be with him during his last few weeks of life. Intuitively, Shoo Shoo seemed to understand the gravity of the situation and he faithfully stayed by my father’s side. When we needed to assist my dad, there was Shoo Shoo curled up in his hospital bed. I was hesitant to move Shoo Shoo but I really had no other choice but to tell him he had to move and gently pick him up. It was then I began to notice an extraordinary transformation, the devil dog had become an angel. A radical change took place in him. He was the embodiment of Love as he kept a watchful vigil. All mistrust and meanness was gone. I could pick him up, and hold like a baby, babble sweet talk, and even kiss him. This aura of Love continued throughout the remaining days of my dad’s life and beyond.

However, a few months later, I returned home to Vermont to visit mom. Unfortunately, Shoo Shoo’s angelic glow was gone and his dark temperament remained with him throughout his old age. I guess in this case it was my parents that offered unconditional love.

As caregivers, we recognize that all humans need love, the warmth of a caring touch, acceptance and meaningful relationships. Pets provide loyal companionship that has undeniably positive effects on a person's well-being. I am curious to know, how have pets influenced the quality of your life and/or those around you?

 “My goal is to be as good a person as my dog thinks I am.” ~Harvey Mackay

~Liz Sorensen Wessel

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