Leaning into Trust

I was having a conversation a few days ago with a dear friend about my upcoming class at the Passionist Earth and Spirit Center. The class is being offered on a donation basis, "in the spirit of the gift." In the class description we state what we judge to be the monetary value of the class and invite people to give that amount, or more, or less, in order to support the sustainability of the center and me. We are not requiring that anyone give us anything. I LOVE that we're offering the class this way. When we made the decision, I immediately started thinking of people I'd invite to come who may not have the means to pay for the class if it had a set price.

And I also noticed fear rising up.

"What if no one signs up? What if a bunch of people sign up and don't give anything? What if people sign up and give only a little, not enough to support the time and energy it takes to run the class?" I wish with all my heart that money were not a necessary tool. And yet I don't know how to live in the world as it currently is without it.

As my friend and I were discussing the class and I voiced my fears, she reminded me of something I know, but sometimes forget. She said something like, "When I lean into trust, I am always held, I am always OK. I've never not been taken care of when I lean in." She probably said it more eloquently than that. She is a wise friend.

When I allow her words sink in, from my head down to my heart and into my gut, I can feel their truth. I, too, have had this experience many times. When I have leaned most deeply into trusting what I call God or Spirit or the Universe, I have always been ok because I've been held. That doesn't mean things have been easy, but it does mean that in the midst of un-ease or dis-ease, I have experienced love from friends, family, acquaintances, strangers. I have felt in my bones that I was not alone. Knowing that I was not alone, I re-membered myself and my place in our web of interconnection.

I've allowed myself to trust when I've left jobs not knowing what would come next and a most beautiful and unexpected work has presented itself.

I've found myself surrounded in care when I've met disappointment, anger, grief.

I've leaned in and felt myself held it when I've gone to Palestine and co-workers have sent me off with dozens of love notes to read while away.

I've remembered my place in interconnection when I've been sick or worn out and friends have brought food and other delightful forms of love. I've tried to offer this kind of love, too.

I've remembered my own ability to tend well to the web when I've received beautiful notes telling me how my teaching has impacted someone. I received one such note just a few days ago. Laura (who gave me permission to share her words) wrote: I've been meaning to tell you that something unexpected happened as a result of me taking your course. It took some time for me to reflect on it and realize it... FEELINGS. The intentional effort to focus on feelings & sensations in the body was absolutely transformational for me! I cannot emphasize this enough! I realized that historically I have always been guided by my THOUGHTS and was not listening to my feelings! Now, I am constantly asking myself how a situation makes me FEEL. I have made some long overdue major changes in my life as a result. I cannot thank you enough.

And so, buoyed by my friend's reminder and buoyed by these words, I lean into trust again. I don't know what will happen with the class. But I do know that I want to lean way in and see what happens.

As I wrote about acceptance as a practice, so, too, is trust. Trust is not a solo endeavor, even when the person I'm learning to trust is myself. Sometimes I need other people to remind me that I'm trustworthy. I suspect you need that sometimes, too.

So as I close, I invite you to consider:

Where and with whom and how do you already practice trust?

Where and with whom and how would you like to test to see if you can lean further in?

Where and who and what need some care and repair before they're ready to be leaned on?

Where and with whom and how are you ready to take a leap of faith, try a trust fall, full-body lean in?

I'd love to know.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes, Autumn Equinox Musings

This morning all of a sudden it felt like fall, cool temperatures, a crispness to the air absent just one day before. Convenient, since today is the Autumn Equinox, the first day of fall.

A dear friend and I seem to find each other on these days of transition- the new year, a birthday, solstice, equinox. Tonight she will come to my house and together we will usher in the autumn season of release and harvest. Our time together is always sacred. I expect tonight will bring delight, opening, depth, and the relief of being seeing and loved in the fullness and complexities, the strengths and limitations, of who we are.

As I write, a song that just found me, Amos Lee’s Worry No More is playing on repeat. I heard it the first time just a few days ago as I prepared to create a heart sketch for a friend whose practice is to receive a heart sketch each season. When I heard the song that day, I knew it was for her. I didn’t know why, but trusted it to be true.

The chorus is “Worry no more, oooh, worry no more, there’s an open door for you.”

Today I know the song is for me. Before sitting down to write, I started listening to it, singing and jumping around, arms hanging loosely, flailing as loose-hanging things being tossed about do. I felt the rhythm in my whole body. When the song ended, I started it again. Listening, singing, jumping, arms flailing. I laughed from the joy of releasing long-held energy stuffed in my body to the point of pain. Stress, tension, grief, anger, frustration, some of which I’ve accumulated and held in my body for days, weeks, months, maybe longer, I let go with much less effort than it’s taken to hold it all in. I feel lighter.

As I write, my body now still, I continue to play the song over and over. I feel an openness in my heart space.

The last few months have not been easy. Family members have had significant health issues. I have experienced loss and disappointment. I’ve had difficult and delicate conversations and held space for others while together we experience the expansion and constriction of hope as COVID has adapted and made its way through more bodies, more hospitals, more communities, more countries- more sickness, more death. The expansion and constriction of hope as all the -isms have adapted and made their way through more bodies, more communities, more countries- more harm, more death. So many people are suffering as systems fail, as needed resources are available only to some and inaccessible to too many others. So many people, whether materially resourced or not, are finding themselves exhausted, holding stress, tension, grief, anger, and frustration because we are still in the middle of global crisis. Space, time, and safety to move through it all seems, and for some actually is, out of reach.

I see the world changing around me, through me, within me. I feel the changes inside my being. I get glimpses of clarity. I spend a lot of time in Unknowing. We are in a time of Unknowing.

I am grateful because I have access to people and resources who help me stay grounded in ungrounding times. I’ve been trying to use what I have to do the inner work of growth and self-care and contribute the outer work of tending and caring for others. Sometimes I meet my lofty aspirations toward love and care. Many times I fall short.

What feels beautiful is that I am learning to take the falling short less personally. I am letting go of the judgments that tell me my worth is based on if that class happens or is cancelled, if I say the right thing at the right time or not, if that man wants to date me or just thinks I’m a “great lady” he wants to be friends with (side note: I do not like being called a “lady” by men; there is a sense of diminishment or weakness to the word; the word “woman” feels much stronger and more embodied). I am rooting and growing into the reality, true of me and you, that our worth and enough-ness is bound only to the fact that we exist. This felt reality is beginning to bare fruit within and through me. It feels both exciting and steadying through the Unknowing.

Autumn is a time of release and a time of harvest. A time of ch-ch-ch-ch-changes within the ongoing cycles of change (I’m also linking here to Mercedes Sosa’s song Todo Cambia, which means “everything changes”; it’s beautiful in melody and lyrics).

Letting go is not always easy or comfortable. If you’d seen me yesterday, you’d have witnessed me holding tight to ideas ready to be released. I wasn’t quite ready to let go. Today I dance and shake them off.

Waiting for the ripening of what’s been growing may bring both impatience and excitement. Yesterday I wanted to rush through the pain of growth and expansion. Today I open myself to the slow ripening. I feel the anticipation of knowing more fully what is growing inside me. I wonder what will ultimately come from me that will nourish not just me, but also be fruit to share with others. I trust that it’s already happening. I can feel it. Do you?

In honor of this day signifying the turn toward release and harvest, I invite you, too, to notice what is happening in and around you:

• How do you experience autumn?

• What are you shedding or do you want to shed?

• Are there things you are scared, hesitant, or not ready to release?

• What is ripening within you?

• What is bearing fruit in or around you?

In an hour or so my friend will arrive. I will offer an open heart-door for her and she for me. In our hours together we will release worry, even if only momentarily. We will honor the changes: mourn what is to be mourned and celebrate what is to be celebrated. I wish you an equally blessed transition to autumn.

Practicing Acceptance

Just a few weeks ago I was excited about starting Reimagining ME: Mindful Explorations, a program for women to explore the forgotten, lost, cut-off parts of ourselves and reclaim (or claim for the first time) our Wisdom. A few days ago I started the process...by myself.

In the weeks leading up to the program start, a few women signed up. Hooray! Their enthusiasm fueled my own. Other women expressed their affirmation and interest in the program. Yay! And then one by one, each of these told me that, for one reason or another, the timing just wasn't right. Every time I heard or read the words, it stung. For a few weeks my being had been hanging precariously in the space between hope, defensiveness ("This is a really great program!"), resolve ("I'm going to make this happen!") and impending grief.

As the days went by, it became ever clearer that this program that I had created, that I loved, that I was excited to share again wasn't going to happen this fall. Working with a mentor, I finally accepted what I didn't want to accept. In that acceptance, I allowed myself both to hear the affirmations ("This looks like an amazing program and I want to do it") and the less-welcome parts of the message ("And now's not the right time."). I allowed myself to grieve the present loss. I allowed myself to accept that sometimes, like now, the timing I want is not in sync with the timing of the Universe, or God, or Spirit, or whatever you may call the force that is both beyond us and holding us.

Once I let it sink in and shed some tears (perhaps not as gracefully as I'd have liked), I began to feel some spaciousness within me. "Okay, so if I'm not doing that, what am I doing this fall?"

Here is what I know so far: I am now able to offer time to some family members in a way I wouldn't have been able to if I were facilitating the program. I may now be able to take a class I wouldn't have been able to take. Several pieces of new work have come my way. I can focus on another idea I had to put down for a time.

And I am accompanying myself through the Reimagining ME process in a way that would be difficult if I were both participating and facilitating. I am curious about how this solo journey will affect how I accompany others the next time.

The next time...With the clarity that "not now" isn't the same as "never again," I have looked ahead to 2022, specifically at Mondays, since that's the day I've offered Reimagining ME before. Valentine's Day 2022 is on a Monday.

"Aaaaah, that's it." What better day to enter into a journey of self-love and discovery than Valentine's Day? It feels aligned. When I spoke to those who had signed up for the fall, several said they are equally ready to join me starting in February.

I know it's still possible that the Universe may have other ideas. Only time will tell.

There have been numerous times when I've thought I knew what and when I was going to do something... or when and how something was going to happen... and the plans, without my consent, took a pivot that jolted me back to the awareness that I don't always have the last say. Jobs coming and going. People coming into and out of my life. Trips planned and cancelled. What happened with Reimagining ME is just one more example.

I'm pretty sure all of us have experienced this over and over...and over again in 2020 and 2021.

So what can we do?

We can practice acceptance.

I want to emphasize that acceptance is, in fact, a practice. Perhaps the practice is guided by the Serenity prayer:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Perhaps the practice is guided by this beautiful chant whose words are:

I release control
and surrender to the flow
of love that will heal me.

Acceptance invites us into the humility of admitting that we can only control so much.

Acceptance invites us to test out whether we believe that there is never failure, only lessons (a mantra I adopted after reading adrienne maree brown's Emergent Strategy).

Acceptance invites us to practice softness through mourning. Miki Kashtan calls it mourning the gap: recognizing and grieving the space that lives between our vision of how we want the world/our lives/something to be and the reality of the world/our lives/something. Mourning connects us to our hearts and often also to other people in ways that resistance does not.

When we have space and allow ourselves to grieve (this space may not be equally afforded to all), we may find that grieving, surrendering to what is, makes space for possibilities we can't see or invite in when we are filling ourselves up with, or armored with, resistance. At the very least, expressing grief and practicing acceptance may offer the relief of release.


How have you responded to unexpected- or perhaps even expected- pivots of life?

When have you been able to practice acceptance during these turns?

When have you resisted?

How did it feel to be in the spaces of acceptance or resistance?

How has allowing grief or "mourning the gap" changed you?

P.S. Though Reimagining ME is no longer a group offering this fall, I do have other workshops and classes coming up. On October 2, I am offering Bridging Divides: Finding Connection in Disconnected Times. In this workshop I'll share strategies for communicating in difficult conversations. We'll have time to discuss the principles and strategies and practice! I have a few other events, too. If you want to know more about them, visit this page.

Also last week, I had the great pleasure of offering a presentation for JustFaith Ministries' 20th Anniversary Celebration: Meeting in the Field: Exploring a Nonviolent Communication Framework. If you're curious about Nonviolent/Compassionate Communication, you can watch the replay of my presentation here (my part starts at 4:30).