Exposure

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about my process of emergence, including dropping the E in my business name so that it is Hart Communication, a play on my last name LockHART. I have been keenly aware, sometimes with excitement, sometimes with trepidation, that once one has Emerged, one is Exposed.

I've had two speaking engagements, both with groups of folks I hadn't met before. The presentations went well and the groups were wonderful. I was accepted for the weeklong artist residency I applied for! The icing on the cake is that a dear friend and I applied to go together and we were both accepted. These have been affirming experiences, ones I'd characterize more as being seen than being exposed.

The biggest exposure for this month, however, is yet to come. Well, actually it's happening as you read this. Today I am taking a leap of faith that feels HUUUUUUUGE. Many of you know that two years ago I created my Cards for Remembering deck, a card deck with original art and messages of self-connection, self-care, and self-compassion. The leap I am taking is to launch a Kickstarter camapign to raise funds to print a 2nd edition deck! The new deck will add 4 news cards for a total of 48 cards and will include a digital guidebook, which the 1st edition didn't have. Unlike the 1st edition decks, which were manufactured in China, the 2nd edition will be printed in the United States.

Kickstarter campaigns are all-or-nothing campaigns- if I don't get enough pledges to reach my goal, I get nothing and the printing won't happen.

Admitting this makes my heart beat faster. I can feel the tension in my neck. At this point I don't know if this exposure will lead to a joyful celebration of success or a tearful mourning after falling down in front of a whole lot of people. For this recovering perfectionist the stakes feel really high. And still I'm choosing to take the leap.

12 of the 48 card images from the Cards for Remembering deck. cards will have rounded edges.

As I write this, I am aware that the world is hurting with the continuing war in Ukraine, continuing violence in Israel/Palestine, continuing violence in other parts of the world, continuing divisions in the U.S. that only seem to be widening. The U.S. is hurting even more after another young white man fueled by white supremacist hate killed 10 people, mostly Black, over the weekend. These things, too, are exposure. Exposure of the deep brokenness of the world and times we live in.

On the one hand, in comparison to these sharp pains, a campaign to raise funds for my cards may seem trivial and inconsequential. On the other hand, I know that these messages are a balm to people who are hurting, and offer softness, inspiration, relief, or sometimes even, as someone wrote about a particular card in the deck said, "a lot of therapy from a little card!!

And so, if you are seeking balm for your pain, softness, inspiration, relief, a little deck of therapy, I hope you'll make a pledge, supporting both my labor of love and your own well-being. If making a pledge isn't for you, I would be so grateful for you to share the campaign. If you're not sure how to do that, I'd be happy to help. My Kickstarter campaign page will go live next Tuesday, May 24 at 9:00am ET. You can see the campaign preview here now. There's a place to leave questions and comments. I'd love to know what you think!

I'll be tinkering and tweaking it until I launch, but the important information is already on the page. If you want to be notified when the campaign launches, there's a handy little button on the page that says "Notify me on launch."


As I prepare for the Kickstarter launch, I also have my online Communicating Across Divides workshop coming up on the evening of Monday, May 23. I'm still working on updating Seeking the Shalom of the City, and preparing for summer classes. I've been getting feedback that daytime in-person classes may be tricky for folks, so I added an evening Compassionate Communication class via Zoom. One note about the summer classes- I would love to have intergenerational participation and have a special scholarship/student rate for high school and college students!

Knowing all that is going on for me, having heard that lots of people I know are experiencing BIG THINGS right now, I wonder what is happening for you.

As you consider your own life, your community, our world, what do you see being exposed?

What feelings arise in response?

Are there parts of you, your community, our world that you wish would be seen more clearly?

What are your hopes?

With curiosity and gratitude,
Cory

Emergence

Outline of three intersecting hearts- orange, green, and purple- that are open at both the bottom and top

A few years ago I went to Miami Beach for my birthday. I had wanted to celebrate with warm weather, beach time, and dancing! Miami Beach offered all of those and I think I also got a cheap flight there. A dear friend met me and celebrated with me like a champ despite the fact that she was fighting some sort of respiratory ick.

We were strolling around town one of those days and all of a sudden a thought popped into my brain. "I know what tattoo I want." Mind you, I had never considered getting a tattoo so this thought took me by surprise. The image, however, was not surprising- one of Picasso's peace doves. I'd have it tattoed on my left hip. I tried to push this thought out of my mind, but it was persistent.

I didn't get a tattoo on that birthday trip. The idea simmered for a few years.

And then, again to my surprise, I was ready. I wanted my tattoo. I mentioned this to a friend and he said, "What are you going to get? Your hearts?"

I was flummoxed. No, I was going to permanently imprint the Picasso dove on my hip. His suggestion made me rethink that plan. A few months later, I got my first (and thus far, only) tattoo.

Three interconnected and open hearts- orange, green, and purple. On my left ankle. The image that is at the top of this post. These hearts represent so much of what I wish for the world- hearts connected to one another, hearts open to what is and may be, hearts vibrantly themselves in shape, color, and size.

These three hearts are now part of the opening segment for the Seeking the Shalom of the City videos. They'll be making their way onto other pages of my website soon, too.

Speaking of which... you might notice that something has been removed from this site.

An E.

A small change that feels unsettling and exciting in my body; I notice a rush of energy even as I write about it. The words on the first page and heading other pages now read "Hart Communication," no longer "Heart Communication." Wanting to play on my last name, it only made sense to drop the E, but it took a long time (years) of hemming and hawing to finally do it.

Emergence.

Like the spring blooms bursting forth, I feel like I, too, am emerging. Shedding things like Es and trying to shake thoughts that have kept me small and hidden. Putting myself out there by applying for an artist residency, making art more regularly again, getting ready for some in-person classes this summer. In the last week I've had three people invite me for public speaking engagements. Two are happening this month. The Universe seems to be pushing me to take bigger steps.

"Get out there. It is time to Emerge! That's why you needed to drop the E in Heart. That letter was needed elsewhere. Instead of merging into what other people want you to be, who other people think you should be, it's time to Emerge into a fuller sense of who you want to be, who you know you are."

And so here I am, trying to respond to the Universe's invitations, sometimes with willingness to take the big steps, sometimes needing encouragement and cheerleading to even take baby steps. Thankfully, I've got some great encouragers and cheerers around me. If you're reading this, you're one of them. Thank you. I am so very grateful. So very, very grateful.

Right now I have a major project in the process of Emergence. It's set to make its appearance in the world in a couple of weeks, but I'll give you a hint...it may have something to do with some of my new art-making...

I'm also bringing back my online Communicating Across Divides workshop later this month on a gift economy basis, finishing the rebranding and updating of Seeking the Shalom of the City, and preparing for summer classes. One note about the summer classes- I would love to have intergenerational participation and I have a special scholarship/student rate for high school and college students! This feels like yet another way to honor...

Emergence.

In this time of Emergence, what is coming alive, springing forth, bursting out of you?

I'd love to know.

The Invitation to Mourn, Palm Sunday reflections

This morning, Palm Sunday, I had the honor of sharing my reflections with my church community. It is never easy to pare down a message when there is so much one could choose to say. The following is where I settled for today.

John 12:12-16. Isaiah 50:4-7, Philippians 2:6-11, Mark 15:1-39

Blessings as we begin this Holy Week by joyfully welcoming Jesus with palms and ever so quickly turning toward mourning his condemnation and death. Two millennia later, we know that the joyful celebration of resurrection is coming, but on Palm Sunday we are not there yet. 

We are invited into mourning.

In April of 2022, we are still reckoning with COVID-19. We are facing rising inflation. We are seeing backlash against the racial justice uprisings of 2020 through legislation about how race can and can’t be talked about in schools. We have witnessed the signing of the “Don’t Say Gay” bill in Florida and see other anti-LGBTQ+ legislation around the country. We are observing from afar the horrors of the war in Ukraine. At U.S. and other countries’ borders, we see governments and media outlets treating certain migrants as greater than or less than others, based on the hue of their skin and their country of origin. These are only a few of the layers upon layers of things that pain us.

As I say all these things, you may notice your heart beat getting faster, your body tensing up, your breath getting shallower or faster or even that you are holding your breath. When is she going to stop with this litany of pain? Why didn’t she name my particular pain? Maybe the litany has stimulated your righteous anger.

In Love and Rage, Lama Rod Owens, a Black, queer Buddhist minister, talks about his own grappling with anger in this way: “My anger is old, personal, and dependable. It is older than me, younger than the youngest child I know. It is so old that most of us no longer believe that it was ever born to begin with. It is the primordial deity that we come to worship, thinking that somehow it will be the revolutionary leader who will set us free. And yet it is also our jealous master.”

When I think about the chief priests, elders, scribes, or Pilate, when I think about the crowds yelling “Crucify him!” or the soldiers who beat and spit on Jesus, or the passersby who mocked him, I wonder if some form of anger had become their jealous master.

When I see the unwillingness of so many elected leaders to work together for the common good, when I see friends and family unwilling to cross lines of difference to talk to each other, I wonder if some form of anger has become their jealous master. When I think about how easy it is to use dehumanizing labels for those I disagree with, whether in power or not, to metaphorically beat them and spit on them, I wonder how often anger becomes my jealous master, too. 

Lama Rod continues, “Anger is actually trying to tell us something. Anger is confessing that it’s not the main event… One of the hardest things that I could ever admit to myself was that I was just hurt, that I wasn’t just pissed off… I was deeply in despair because of the situation. This realization just made me feel weak… And never in my life have I ever been told and ever been supported in touching deeply into this woundedness. I call it heartbrokenness.”

I suspect that if we allow ourselves to go deep beneath anger, we may find that our hearts are broken, too. We wear the strong armor of anger to try to shield ourselves from the heartbreak that may feel like weakness.

Anger is a normal human response to pain and suffering. Sometimes we need that armor to protect ourselves. But we’re not meant to wear it all the time. And the hard expression of anger doesn’t free us.

The hardness of our anger armor constricts our movement toward loving all our neighbors. When we wear the same righteous anger armor as someone else, we may feel connected to them, but that armor also separates us from others. Anger prevents us from knowing our deep interconnection with All.

On one of my first stints in Palestine with what is now Community Peacemaker Teams, I found myself getting really angry as I witnessed Israeli soldiers harass, beat, teargas, arrest, and otherwise do harm to Palestinians, including children. When I joined CPT, I had made a commitment to practicing nonviolence and I knew that honoring that commitment meant I needed to figure out what to do with my anger.

During the less volatile moments around the soldiers, who were not much older than the young men I had taught at Trinity, I started a practice of trying to look them in the eyes. As I caught their eyes, I thought, “I don’t hate you. I wish you peace. I wish you love.” In my own softening toward them, I recognized that if I had walked in their shoes, I might well be doing exactly what I saw them do. In heart-opening grief, I had a simultaneous awareness of our inherent interconnection and our situational disconnection, and a deep desire to reconnect.  

The soft practice of mourning has the potential to reconnect us and free us. Miki Kashtan says that “Mourning is a continual soft pathway to accepting reality without numbing ourselves, without distracting ourselves, without blaming ourselves, and without engaging in a spiritual bypass. Mourning brings tenderness to everything we put into it.” As we allow the tenderness of mourning, the world becomes softer, more ready for healing, more able to heal. Mourning together, we allow the communal composting of pain. In those moments of eye- and heart-connection with soldiers, I hope that I was both creating soil and planting seeds that someday will grow, bloom, and bear fruit.

Planting seeds on Ash Wednesday together, we opened ourselves to the pain and mystery of the transformation that happens in the dark and to trust that a burial does not always signify eternal death.   

In mourning as in planting, we recognize that we are not in control. As we relinquish the illusion of control, we surrender our will to God’s. As we align more closely with God’s will, perhaps, like Isaiah, we “might know how to speak to the weary a word that will sustain them.” We allow seeds to be planted in us and we plant seeds. We cannot control their growth.

As we align more closely with God’s will, we come closer to the path of Jesus. Jesus wore no armor. To some who observed him, Jesus may have looked weak. And yet, we know that Jesus freely chose the softness of embodied divinity. He chose to allow his heart and his human body to be broken. He chose the redemptive suffering of nonviolence that exposed the violence of the system he lived in, all the way to his death.

May we, too, choose the path of nonviolence. May we take deep breaths, slowing ourselves down enough to touch the tender longing, to feel the heartbreak beneath our anger. May we acknowledge and mourn the ways we ourselves have fallen into the patterns of violence embedded into our systems. May we name aloud the shame we feel, so we may see that we are not alone in it. May we choose to re-humanize those we have dehumanized. May we mourn the harm that others do and still choose to recognize that harm-doers are made in the image and likeness of God. May we not seek punishment, but advocate for restorative justice that aims to heal both the people who are harmed and the perpetrators of harm. During this Holy Week, may we mourn and allow our tears to water seeds of love, peace, connection, redemption, and hope.

---

---

Excerpts from Love and Rage, Lama Rod Owens

I am including here a couple of longer excerpts (bits of which are included and inform the above) from Lama Rod Owens’ Love and Rage: The Path of Liberation through Anger.

My anger is old, personal, and dependable. It is older than me, younger than the youngest child I know. It is so old that most of us no longer believe that it was ever born to begin with. It is the primordial deity that we come to worship, thinking that somehow it will be the revolutionary leader who will set us free. And yet it is also our jealous master.

 Anger is actually trying to tell us something. Anger is confessing that it’s not the main event. There’s tension arising from my unwillingness to be with this deep sense of being hurt. When I begin to look at that, one of the hardest things that I could ever admit to myself was that I was just hurt, that I wasn’t just pissed off. I wasn’t pissed off because of racism or homophobia or something else. I was actually deeply, deeply hurt. I was deeply in despair because of the situation. This realization just made me feel weak.

 And never in my life have I ever been told and ever been supported in touching deeply into this woundedness. I call it heartbrokenness. To sink beneath the anger or to move through the anger was to recognize the anger for what it was: an indicator that my heart was broken. When I allowed myself to experience my heartbrokenness, my activism began to change. I wasn’t out there in the streets any longer trying to do stuff because I was angry. I was out because I was just really hurt and I wanted someone to recognize that. I wanted someone to recognize that for the first time my struggle wasn’t to get people free or to disrupt systems. My primary struggle was to embody and communicate that I was not OK, that I was struggling to be happy, and that I wasn’t, above all, being distracted by the anger. I suppose, in other words, my activism was to first to give myself permission to be free to feel deeply into my experience so I could enter into change work more myself and then deeper attunement to other people’s struggle.

---

Okay, I can’t run, so maybe I should start befriending [anger] and learning from it. It’s always telling me, “Rod, you’re hurt right now and you just don’t have the courage to look at that, so I’m protecting you. I’m going to protect you as long as you choose not to look at what my function is.” That’s what anger is always telling me: no, look deeper, look deeper, don’t get distracted…

And yeah, it feels powerful... I hear people say, anger is important; we need it to be effective. I believe anger is like a controlled fire. We do controlled fires in forests to create room and space for new growth and to fertilize the soil. But that fire can get out of control if there aren’t any skilled people there controlling that fire. For us, if we have no wisdom, then our anger gets out of control, and it starts burning up everything. I see so many people burning up everything.

 This gets to the question of how do we actually create community with people who are enraged; their rage is really unchecked. For me, it’s that I really need to hold space for my anger, not add fuel to their fire. If I’m going to be in community with someone, then I feel that I’m holding space for their anger and for them to be angry. I’m not going to fuel their fire, throw logs on it, say, yeah, you’re justified; I would never say that. I would say, yes this is your experience right now, and you should own it and be with it, and yes, that anger is pointing to something…

 And once we gain some wisdom, we start asking ourselves what’s that anger about, what’s that anger pointing to? … So I remind myself I am experiencing this anger because I’m hurt in the situation, so I need to remember that this anger is reminding me to set boundaries, or to say something right now, or I’ll return to being hurt over and over again. But I still have a lot of work to do, though I’ve come a long way.