Imagining Ourselves Into...

Dear friends,

A couple of days ago I had the joy of being a guest speaker for a class at Bellarmine University entitled "Faith and Imagination."

Wanting to spark the imagination of students, I pulled out an excerpt from adrienne maree brown's Emergent Strategy (you can find the excerpt at the end of this blog post). We read the excerpt aloud and then I guided students through a group writing experiment. I invited students to begin to write a stream-of-consciousness response to what they had just read and heard. After writing for a couple of minutes, they passed their paper to another student to continue writing. And then another, and another. I told them that they could respond to the previous writer, continue along the same vein, or take the writing in a totally different direction. I had no idea how it would go or what would happen on their pages. 

At the end of the experiment, students received the papers they had begun and read all that had transpired. One student said the writing time was too short to get her thoughts in order. I replied that the purpose wasn't to get thoughts in order, but to get the thoughts on paper, which are not always the same. We had a little time to discuss what did find its way to paper: questions about imagination and reality, what they are, and how they interact; dismay that imagination is often encouraged in children, but discouraged as we move to and through adulthood; comments about how imagination can both lead us toward contruction and healing or destruction and harm. There was so much richness I wish we'd had more time to explore.  

Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the Christian season of Lent. Many people engage in Lenten pactices, often giving up something for the season (who among you Catholics or former Catholics has given up sweets or meat for Lent?) Three years ago, I decided that instead of giving something up, I wanted to engage my imagination and take something up. Each day I made a 4" x 6" watercolor painting with a reminder for myself. The first was "I am allowed to rest"; the last, "I trust in abundance."  This daily practice helped ground me during the early days of the pandemic, when it felt like we were being uprooted and tossed about. I didn't know how much I needed the creative practice and I didn't know that these reminders would become Cards for Remembering. My imagination hadn't taken me that far. It was only as I took step after step into creative imagining that I discovered the messages and images weren't just for me.

I use the cards now regularly. They still ground me, affirm what I know,  challenge me ("I am allowed not to know" has been appearing frequently of late), and invite me to imagine ("In challenging times I lean into cReaTivity"). As I type, I am considering what to take up this year for Lent. I don't yet know. I hope to find clarity soon. I'll take time later to allow my mind and heart to wander and imagine me into a practice. 

What about you? 

How do you engage your imagination?

What have you imagined into being?

I'd love to know. 

~~~

I imagine a world in which we are connected to our needs, our feelings, our body's wisdom (both individual and collective bodies) and, through that connection, we live into our core of love and we thrive. These imaginings fuel my work and I am excited to have a number of events and offerings coming up that I hope will take us a few steps closer to the world I imagine. 

At 1:00 ET today, my interview with Michaela Daystar in her YouTube series Reiki Crossroads & Connections premiers. We talk about intersections of energy work, art, peacemaking, mysticism, and more! You can listen when it airs or later on. 

I also have a number of Compassionate Communication offerings coming up. on Monday, February 27, join me for a 1-hour introductory workshop: What's Beneath Our Words?  Starting March 9, we delve into the foundational pieces of Compassionate Communication with my Meeting in the Field of Connection class. Whether these are refreshers or your first time with these skills, come join me! 

Finally, as my 50th birthday fast approaches, I've been imagining how I might celebrate with you! I'll soon be sharing special offers on my art- Cards for Remembering decks, prints, and original art! 

Wondering about and imagining our next connection, 
Cory


Excerpt from the introduction to adrienne maree brown’s Emergent Strategy

A visionary exploration of humanity includes imagination…

Imagination is shaped by our entire life experience, our socialization, the concepts we are exposed to, where we fall in the global hierarchy of society.

Our ideas of right and wrong shift with time—right now it’s clear to me that something is wrong if it hurts this planet. But if we don’t claim the future, that sense of loyalty to earth, of environmentalism, could become outdated. Kenny Bailey helped me understand this—that justice, rights, things we take for granted, are not permanent. Once there were kings and queens all over the earth. Someday we might speak of presidents and CEOs in past tense only.

It is so important that we fight for the future, get into the game, get dirty, get experimental. How do we create and proliferate a compelling vision of economies and ecologies that center humans and the natural world over the accumulation of material?

We embody. We learn. We release the idea of failure, because it’s all data.

But first we imagine.

We are in an imagination battle.

Trayvon Martin and Mike Brown and Renisha McBride and so many other are dead because, in some white imagination, they were dangerous. And that imagination is so respected that those who kill, based on an imagined, racialized fear of Black people, are rarely held accountable.

Imagination has people thinking they can go from being poor to a millionaire as part of a shared American dream. Imagination turns Brown bombers into terrorists and white bombers into mentally ill victims. Imagination gives us borders, gives us superiority, gives us race as an indicator of capability. I often feel I am trapped inside someone else’s imagination, and I must engage my own imagination in order to break free.

All of this imagining, in the poverty of our current system, is heightened because of scarcity economics. There isn’t enough, so we need to hoard, enclose, divide, fence up, and prioritize resources and people.

We have to imagine beyond those fears. We have to ideate—imagine and conceive—together.  

We must imagine new worlds that transition ideologies and norms, so that no one sees Black people as murderers, or Brown people as terrorists and aliens, but all of us as potential cultural and economic innovators. This is a time-travel exercise for the heart. This is collaborative ideation—what are the ideas that will liberate all of us?

The more people that collaborate on that ideation, the more that people will be served by the resulting world(s)…

It is our right and responsibility to create a new world.

What we pay attention to grown, so I’m thinking about how we grow what we are all imagining and creating into something large enough and solid enough that it becomes a tipping point...

As Toni Cade Bambara has taught us, we must make just and liberated futures irresistible. We are all the protagonists of what might be called the great turning, the change. The new economy, the new world.

And I think it is healing behavior, to look at something so broken and see the possibility of wholeness in it. That’s how I work as a healer: when a body is between my hands, I let wholeness pour through. We are all healers too—we are creating possibilities, because we are seeing a future full of wholeness.  

No Need to Contort Yourself

A young woman contorts her body under a desk. Her chin touches the floor and her body bends backwards so that it forms an arc with her feet also on the floor in front of her head.

A young woman contorts her body under a desk. Her chin touches the floor and her body bends backwards so that it forms an arc with her feet also on the floor in front of her head.

Dear friends,

Yesterday was the first day of a writing class focused on liberating ourselves from the blocks that get in the way of our full and free expression, whether in writing or some other way. 

Last week I was hired to facilitate for a group that had to scrap the original agenda for a planned meeting and pivot quickly to tend to other needs that had arisen. With fewer than 24 hours between the request and the meeting, I had to scramble to get some things together; thankfully I have some well-honed tools and skills at the ready these days.  

As I was preparing to facilitate, I pulled out Tattoos on the Heart by Gregory Boyle. It has been awhile since I had picked up this trusted friend of a book. I came across this passage I had highlighted:

Jesus says, "You are the light of the world." I like even more what Jesus doesn't say. He does not say, "One day, if you are more perfect and try really hard, you'll be light." He doesn't say "If you play by the rules, cross your T's and dot your I's, then maybe you'll become light." No. He says, straight out, "You are light." It is the truth of who you are, waiting only for you to discover it... No need to contort yourself to be anything other than who you are.

Whatever your belief system, I hope you can lean into these words. You don't need to contort yourself, fit yourself into some box, follow a planned agenda that no longer serves you, or act the way someone else wants you to in order to claim your luminosity.

You are the light of the world. 

Period. No asterisk with exceptions. 

During the first writing class someone read aloud what they'd written during a 10-minute free writing time. The person's writing exposed pain and anger. Hearing their clear expression, even that of pain, was beautiful. Their light radiated through their honest and unfiltered sharing. 

You are the light of the world. 

Whether you are experiencing joy or sorrow, pain or comfort, anger or peace, you are light. My hope for you is that you see it. 

Shine, bright one, shine. 

~~~

If you struggle to access and see your own light, I hope you'll join me in March for a 4-week Nonviolent/Compassionate Communication class. This practice has helped me reconnect to my own light and to express myself with authenticity; I've witnessed many others have similar experiences. This 4-week online class starts March 9. Whether it's a refresher or a first time with these skills, come join me! 

Another powerful way to connect with your own light is through Heart Portraits. These intuitive art pieces literally show you the beauty of your heart. They are perfect for marking special occasions, times of transition, and, really, anytime. 

You are the light of the world. 

With gratitude for the ways you shine, 
Cory

P.S. In response to the above, a friend sent me. Listening to it felt like being curled up in a warm blanket and I thought you might appreciate it, too.

You Do Not Have to Be Good

Dear friends, 

Happy New Year! I hope these first days of 2023 have been kind to you.



I started the year by preaching at my church and then leaving for a weeklong artist residency co-sponsored by the Kentucky Foundation for Women and the Sisters of Loretto/Loretto Community. When I applied for the residency, I said I wanted to do a lot of writing. That's not what happened, but before I say more, let me back up. 

It is a great honor to share my reflections with my church community. It also always stresses me out. What if my theology is off? What if my message doesn't resonate with people? Since I've been given the privilege of doing this, I want to do it well. Between Christmas and the new year, I was still recovering from COVID and, to be honest, from the last several months of going, going, going. I was tired and didn't have a lot of energy to put toward my homily. As I was preparing, I kept telling my recovering-perfectionist self, "Good is good enough." I was sharing this with a friend, who looked at me and quoted from Mary Oliver's poem, "Wild Geese": You do not have to be good.  

I'll admit, "Good is good enough" was a stretch for me, so "You do not have to be good" was waaaaaaay out of my comfort zone. Still it was a helpful reminder that whether I offered a "good" homily or a "bad" one, it wouldn't likely change anyone's regard or love for me, and if it did, those probably weren't my people anyway. The homily seemed to be well-received, I had another conversation with a different friend about "Wild Geese," and I left for my residency.

On the first day, the poem still on my mind, I created a piece with the poem's opening line (pictured above and again below). I thought I was just getting it out of my system, so that I could then get to all the writing I had planned to do. 

I quickly learned that much of my residency work was actually to allow "Wild Geese" to work its way through me. What follows are the pieces I created from the first several lines: 

The poem continues: 
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.


And then:

(The word that goes off the piece is "imagination.")

The final lines are: 
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.



I am not worried about whether any of the above are "good." I am simply grateful to have had the time to play and create, to "let the soft animal of [my] body love what it loves." It loves to create. Doing so was liberating! 

A line of 5 young cows and one adult cow, black, black and white, brown, or brown and white in color look at the camera through a thin wire fence. In hte background is a tree trunk stretching up and a gray, cloudy sky.

I moved slowly through the week. I rested. I reflected. I wrote, mostly things that no eyes but my own will see. I painted, cut, and glued. I walked. I had a few conversations with people and a lot of conversations with the cows that surrounded my house. They were patient and curious listeners. 

Since I've returned, the world has continued to offer itself to my imagination. Even as I have worried and approached despair, the world has repeatedly reminded of my place in the family of things in surprising and delightful ways. I belong.  "Goodness" has no bearing on the truth of my belonging. 

You belong. Goodness has no bearing on the truth of your belonging. 

Do you believe it? 

~~~
Nonviolent/Compassionate Communication has been an integral part of my journey toward releasing judgments of "good" and "bad," a work in progress, for sure. Starting January 25, I'm offering a 4-week introductory class via Zoom, Meeting in the Field of Connection: Compassionate Communication. I am extending the Early Bird discount to January 18, one week from today. Whether for a refresher or as a first-time student of these skills and practices, I hope you'll join me! 

I am also so happy to be working with Drepung Gomang Center for Engaging Compassion to offer Seeking the Shalom of the City, an in-person program that explores places and times in Louisville's history through a social justice lens. We are starting next week- January 19! 

Join me or, if you know of others who would love these classes, please share with them!

With care, 
Cory