The Sacred Practice of Presence

I begin writing from a tender place, having spent an hour on Zoom with my beloved church community as we entered the holy days leading up to Easter. Normally on this Holy Thursday night, we'd be together and wash each other's feet, an intimate and profound act of care whose sheer beauty brings me to tears every year.

Last year and this year we haven't been in each other's physical presence for Holy Week. Our rituals have been modified to accommodate our online gatherings. These gatherings cultivate community to a depth I didn't know was possible in a virtual setting. This evening as the priest talked about foot-washing, he commented that we don't have much need for it nowadays because we're not walking on dusty paths and we wear shoes and socks.

As he said this, I was transported back to about 9 years ago in a rural part of India where I lived with Indian Sisters of Charity of Nazareth for several months. Twice I experienced foot-washing when I visited homes there. Having my feet washed by people I know and washing theirs, too, is one thing. Having my feet washed by strangers welcoming me into their home, having oil rubbed into my feet and legs as an act of hospitality in which I was invited only to receive was a most humbling affair. I was blessed by this practice of attentive care.

As I think about attentive care, I've also been thinking a lot about my Uncle Bill who died about 2 weeks ago. Thankfully I got to see him about a week before he died. My uncle was fun and funny, ever a jokester. He loved Peep art (if you're not familiar with Peep art, here's a link with some images for you to enjoy), so Easter was one of the many times Bill brought on the fun, laughter, and joy. Maybe because having fun takes presence, he also seemed to practice presence when not joking around.

Except I don't think he'd call it a practice. It's just how he was, what he did.

Uncle Bill's worldviews and mine weren't necessarily the same. We voted differently, had different perspectives about Israel/Palestine and the racial justice protests of last year, and yet we never argued about our differing perspectives. When we'd see each other, he'd ask questions with genuine care and curiosity. He'd share his own perspective with the same care. The last time I saw him was just after the first anniversary of Breonna Taylor's death. I'd gone to their house with some notion of being present to him and to my aunt, to offer some love and care, and yet what I experienced was his, really their, presence and care for me. He was having a good day, so we were able to chat for a bit. In our conversation, he took the time to ask about the Breonna Taylor commemoration. I know this was a point of divergent perspectives, but he listened to me attentively. He was fully present, not waiting to make his own point or argue with me.

What I keep coming back to as I think about that conversation and others before it are words I say often in my Compassionate Communication workshops: The primary goal is connection.

When talking about potentially polarizing or difficult topics, I've had to learn and practice skills to foster connection. My tendency is to want to argue and prove why I'm right or focus only on my perspective without taking into consideration someone else's. If this surprises you, then all I can say is you've seen me when I'm practicing well, but there are still times I fall into old patterns.

Uncle Bill knew that the primary goal was connection. I don't think he'd call what he was doing a sacred practice of presence and yet I can't think of it as anything but that.

Listening open-heartedly and open-mindedly is a sacred practice of presence. Foot-washing is a sacred practice of presence. Noticing reflections on a still pond is another way of practicing presence with this world of which we are a part. Listening to the quiet voice within is a sacred practice of presence. Taking conscious breaths, dancing with abandon, creating just to create, sacred acts of presence.

Presence.

Connection.

Practice.

After you read this, or maybe just now, I hope you'll take a few moments to close your eyes, place your hand on your heart, and take a few conscious breaths. Allow yourself moments of presence just for you. Notice how you are. Notice if anything shifts simply by bringing presence to your breath. Transition back to whatever you were doing. Later in the day, depending on your own capacity, offer or ask for the sacred presence of another.

Presence.

Connection.

Practice.

May we practice presence to ourselves, to others, to our world, deeply and whole-heartedly.

As I noted, one way I practice presence is through Compassionate Communication. If you'd like to practice with me, I have a 6-week class that starts in just a few days- Tuesday, April 6, 12:30-2:30pm. If a single workshop suits you better, I am offering my Communicating Across Divides workshop on Wednesday, April 7, 7:00-9:00pm. These skills, like any other, require repetition and practice for integration.

Recognizing Abundance Even in Challenging Times

I think it's fair to say 2020 has been a rough one for most everyone. We've experienced upheaval in so many ways. COVID has brought many changes to our lives from changed routines to loss or diminishment of income to loss of loved ones. The deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and others have awakened many people, especially white people, to just how far we are from the highest aspirations of the United States' ideals. This week Louisville lost another bright light when 21-year-old Travis Nagdy, who grew into leadership through 6 months of continuous protests for racial justice, was shot and killed. The elections and its aftermath have exacerbated divisions that were already deep. Many of us are celebrating Thanksgiving (whose history brings its own complexities) in ways that break tradition. 

We may be mourning or angry or tired or so many other things and I wonder if, even as we experience all of those difficult emotions, we can find the places where we can exhale in relief, in gratitude, in satisfaction. I wonder if we can simultaneously notice points of gratitude that open us up in the midst of the complex emotions that can close us off, or at least allow these opening and closing emotions to ebb and flow within us.

Practicing gratitude (and it most certainly is a practice) is something I began just before the 2016 election. Every night for over 4 years now, I've posted on Facebook 5 things for which I'm thankful for, from the mundane to the extraordinary. This practice has helped me to stay grounded in a greater sense of wholeness- of all that is- especially during difficult times. In honor of the practice and this day, I'm sharing two videos that remind me of the expansive was we can notice abundance around us-

• beautiful imagery and Brother David Steindl-Rast’s reflection in A Good Day

• Carrie Newcomer's song Holy As the Day is Spent, a song I get to sing every year at my church's Thanksgiving service

I also want to share just a few of the things I'm particularly grateful for in 2020: 

• Frida- my 20-year-old cat: I have lived with no other being as long as I've lived with Frida. As all of us have spent more time at home and less time in the physical presence of other people outside of our household (I live alone, so...), her physical presence has been of great comfort. If you've been in my house or on a Zoom call with me, chances are, you've met Frida, or at least heard her. She's usually on my lap- as often as I'll let her be!

• My church community: Even though we haven't met in person since March, we have me weekly via Zoom and our community has even grown as we've welcomed friends and family who live outside of Louisville- in other cities, states, and countries. I appreciate the comfort of ritual, the intentional inclusion of different community members’ voices each week, and the many ways we've cultivated community and support for and with each other.

• Park walks with friends: As we navigate safe ways to be together, I have loved every walk I've taken with friends. These walks help me move my body, fill my spirit, and ground me in connections with Nature and people.

• People who brought me meals or small gifts, sent text messages or notes, graced me with their company when I was struggling. There have been a few times this year when I've had a hard time taking care of myself. During those times friends, family members, acquaintances, and sometimes even strangers stepped in and gave me the care I was struggling to give myself.

• Getting to know my neighbors: Every night at 7:00pm, my neighbors and I come out on our porches and bang drums, ring bells, play tambourines, and otherwise make noise. Sometimes my 10-year-old neighbor rides his skateboard down the street in costume in the midst of the joyful noise. Most Saturday nights we've also gathered (at a distance) around a fire pit in the middle of the street. We've had two outdoor karaoke nights, a pumpkin-carving night, a cookout, among other things. Even when we're back to whatever the new normal becomes, I suspect these ties will remain strong.

• Healthcare workers and public health officials: I don't even know where to start. What a mix of the challenges they've faced, whether direct care of COVID patients, protecting themselves from COVID, dealing with supply shortages, changing protocols as the information about COVID evolves, interacting with people who are difficult for any number of reasons, overworking. And they still keep showing up.

• Teachers, parents, students, anyone involved in education: The creativity and flexibility that this year is demanding is A LOT (true in this scenario and most every other). Families and schools have had to make tough choices, wondering if they're the right ones and if they'll have to pivot again as circumstances change.

• New or renewed dedication to racial justice coming alive in many people: both observing and being a part of the racial justice work going on right now is exciting. Seeing young people come forward to lead is exciting. Seeing people of all ages willing to risk safety, whether physical or emotional, so that our society is more equitable is exciting. Seeing structures of support form is exciting- therapists groups dedicated to protesters, lawyer groups ready to support people who got arrested in protests, volunteers who provide food, rides, sanctuary spaces, child care, education, training. Just wow.

The truth is that this is only the start to my list. It could easily have 100 points, but I'll leave the rest for another day... or for your imagination.  

For what are you grateful? 

How has 2020 brought blessings to your life? 

We Repeat What We Don't Repair

The original title of this essay was "Domination, Dismissal, and Dehumanization." I decided that might feel too intimidating for an essay title, but I'm still going to share a few reflections on these things. 

We live in a culture of domination, dismissal, and dehumanization. Regardless of our religion, political or ideological leanings, race, age, or other qualities, most of us fall into these patterns at some point or another because we are immersed in them. We don't have to look too far in our relationships, communities, country, world to see these playing out all around us. If we're in a position of privilege, we exert our power in ways that limit someone else's, consciously and unconsciously. We write off someone we disagree with because they're clearly wrong and therefore not worth our attention. Hmpf! We call a politician or a candidate a derogatory name because it makes us feel superior. All of these things separate us from each other. 

If you're like me, you may talk the good talk about compassion and love and then forget or choose not to extend compassion and love to the "bad" people, the ones we see doing harm. Doesn't doing so let them off the hook? 

Yesterday's gospel reading at church was the one about loving our neighbors as ourselves. Regardless of your spiritual tradition, it's likely that this idea of unconditional love is a part of your belief system. But how do we do it? And why? 

We repeat what we don't repair. 

If I wish to live in a world in which power-with, rather than power-over, is the norm, I practice it now.  

If I wish to live in a world in which I am seen and heard and so is everyone else, I practice it now. 

If I wish to live in a world in which respect is the norm, I practice it now. 

If I don't practice them now, I perpetuate the very systems I wish to interrupt and change, just maybe with people in leadership with whom I align myself more. 

Acknowledging someone's humanity doesn't mean I accept the harm that they're doing. It does mean that I can see that person as more than the harm they're doing. I'll still work to end the harm, but I'll also live in the possibility that the person can change. It doesn't mean I stay in relationship with the person. I can still have boundaries. I can wish them well from afar, and when I say "well," I mean that their needs are truly met on a deep level, so deeply that they won't continue to do harm. Their well-being, their healing, brings me and you and everyone else closer to collective well-being. 2020 has shown us how much we need to heal. 

The goal is to heal me and you and everybody else. Patching the fabric of humanity. Mending the tears. Stitch by tiny stitch. Practice by tiny practice. Practicing love toward my neighbor as myself. Remembering that everyone is my neighbor. Practicing until these acts are the ones we automatically repeat and not the acts of domination, dismissal, and dehumanization. With every action a new stitch in the tapestry of interconnection. Slowly. Steadily. Stepping back every so often to see the bigger picture, the progress we've made. Bringing the cloth close again to continue the work. Stitch. Stitch. Stitch. 

What patterns of harm-doing in our world do you see reflected in your own actions?

What is one practice that helps you or could help you to interrupt the pattern?

What do you think would change as a result of your "mending"?