Reflecting Vulnerability

The Mystery Within...

This week’s post is a little longer than usual since Tuesday’s entry contains a summary of July’s Women Gathering Retreat on Vulnerability that I finally got around to writing.  

Sunday, September 29, 2019

There was a very light mist falling when I put on my rain poncho to walk Oliver to the woods this afternoon. I was grateful for my return to daily written reflecting and completing last week’s post. I appreciated how my reflections revealed some of my vulnerabilities and strength--deep empathy, acknowledging my humanness; and for tears of sadness and joy at Enzo’s love of humanity in the movie, “The Art of Racing in the Rain,” and in sharing that experience with family members. I wondered what insights this week’s reflections will reveal?

I always thrill at the sight of deer. And one was watching me in the woods this misty afternoon. I checked my medicine card book when I got home that said if Deer has gently come into my life I am being asked to find gentleness of spirit that heals all wounds; be warm and caring and love people as they are. I know Enzo and God would agree.

After cleaning up the supper dishes, I saw a big brown spider on my kitchen floor. I stepped on it and then felt remorse.  I picked it up and put it outside in the grass.  Hopefully, it will be a meal for another being. This being a gentle, caring human being isn’t always easy.

Monday, September 30, 2019

It was a very short day today with yoga in the morning followed by a walk to the woods with Oliver before it got too unseasonably warm; and then an unexpected visitor after lunch; and then feeling truly tired, I laid down for a nap. The weather report for tomorrow is for heavy rain, so when I woke I justified a bike ride before supper and the early autumn sunset.

I found a note I wrote to myself earlier this month, I even dated it 9-10-19. Maybe that was the actual beginning of my return to written reflections. The note began, “I am retired. Retirement has purpose. Slow down. Find enjoyment. Be realistic about what I take on.”  

I am proud of myself for not feeling guilty about my very short day today.

Tuesday, October 1, 2019

Women Gathering Retreat 

on Vulnerability

July 26 to July 28, 2019

“What makes you vulnerable makes you beautiful.”  Brene Brown

Two months have passed since our summer Women Gathering retreat on the theme of Vulnerability. I am just now getting around to reviewing my notes and summarizing what that weekend meant for me. In some way, it is good that I have some distance between my retreat experience and notes before attempting to highlight them. The intervening time, and more recently my return to daily written reflections, has allowed my vulnerability to come into sharper focus and to appreciate its gifts. 

Vulnerability is what I initially want to hide from myself, or from others, for fear of rejection. When I lean into my vulnerability with openness and compassion I can then be more open and compassionate with others. Vulnerability is innate to being human and part of my natural state.  My vulnerability allows the natural strength of my heart to emerge. 

Vulnerability means showing up as I truly am and taking risks in expressing my thoughts and feelings. It asks me to tell the truth that then lets me rest in self-love. Accepting my vulnerability also allows others to accept theirs and expand the natural strength of their hearts. The paradox of vulnerability is when I allow myself to be undefended I find my true strength. It is the birthplace of my courage. It is my vulnerability that makes me strong and more whole.

When I came across the last sentence I jotted down in my notes it brought a smile to my heart and face. “Be okay with my single life-style choice.” Those seven little words now feel remarkably honest and freeing.      

My art therapy piece for that weekend, cutting and pasting pictures and words from magazines, brought me these words and images to paste on a board: “It’s your vulnerability that makes you strong;” a clock to remind me to take time for myself everyday, and the words, “Keep it simple,” to remind me to do less and be more. There’s a heart pictured with three rings in the center. I now think the three rings within the heart signify accepting my vulnerability expands my heart and helps others expand theirs. Or maybe it means life and love is a three-ring circus. Perhaps it is both. There’s a silly looking Labrador with a flowered shower cap on his head that tells me to incorporate some silliness into my life; and a paddle boarder on a northern lake. Both represent wellness. And on the backside of my board is an empty hammock between two trees with a beach in the background. I put it on the back of my collage because I actually didn’t think I would realistically lounge in a hammock any time soon, if ever.         

                      

Thank you, Cathy Gawlik and Dawn Zak, for all your hard work and skills in gathering us women together to reflect on our vulnerability.

* * *

I now realize reflecting and writing daily is a major step in looking at my vulnerabilities. And I’ve even started lying down for a nap some afternoons. 

Wednesday, October 2, 2019

There was a light energy that flowed in my body today. It felt good.   

I dropped my car off early this morning for an oil change and to make sure it is road worthy for winter. Frost is in the near future, so when I got home I brought in two houseplants that summered on the deck. They grew and thrived with the bright natural light and real rain. Several times throughout the day I peaked in on them in the sunroom to admire the variegated brightness and significant growth of both the ficus tree and umbrella plant. They should be okay in the sunroom for another month before it gets too cold and they join me in the house for winter. 

Walking back to the garage with Oliver to pick up my car, I felt deep gratitude for this day, my energy, car, house, sunroom and the security of my retirement. After I paid the garage owner, Mark, for caring for my car, I acknowledged a friend told me that he donates his time and car servicing skills to needy St. Vincent de Paul clients to help keep them safe on the road. I thanked him for doing that. He said, “I’m not comfortable around people, but that is a skill I have and I  am happy to help out.” He said he has been doing it for 35 years and thanked me for my acknowledgment. I felt gratitude enlarge both of our hearts.  

Thursday, October 3, 2019

Yesterday’s quiet energy left today. I am feeling overwhelmed with what I want to do to get more organized with household tasks and paper work. The best thing I can do tonight is go to bed and sleep on it.  

Friday, October 4, 2019

Dear Matthew Fox,

Your book, Original Blessing, was of tremendous help to me in finding my voice and claiming my freedom. It allowed me to write my first memoire, God Never Hurries, which was a pre-requisite to writing Both/and Things where I am learning a deeper form of freedom in loving unconditionally.

Thank you,

Marcia Kaminski 

Saturday, October 5, 2019

After Matthew Fox finished his talk yesterday on his book, Naming the Unnameable – 89 Wonderful and Useful Names for God…Including the Unnameable, God, I asked a Sienna Center staff person to give Fox the envelope I had addressed to him. It contained my October 4 handwritten note to him and a copy of Both/and Things. I would have handed it to him myself, but he was whisked out of the great chapel for his book-signing event that followed in the dining hall. My friend Ann and I did not stay. I was tired, there was distance to drive home in the dark, and Ann had early plans for the next day.

In his talk, Fox listed God’s many names slowly and deliberately. I could identify with some of them from my experience with Native American sweat lodge ceremony and my East Indian experiences with Kirtan and yoga, and my Buddhist readings. My ears and heart enjoyed hearing Fox speak God’s feminine names and say the Goddess is returning in many forms; and that there are trillions and trillions of names for God--flow, compassion, kindness, and every being is a name for God. His talk was expansive. I felt privileged to be able to relate to many of God’s names and to know when we show compassion, kindness, and forgiveness, we become Godlike.

And today, October 5, is my late son Joe’s birthday--Happy Birthday Joe. You now must know so much more of the Great Mystery that loves and lives within us all. Love, Mom  

  

           

     

T

   

   

Searching

The Mystery within...

What I write about is not so much the things I know, but is more about searching for what I can learn from my week.  It keeps me alert and noticing more carefully the people, places and things in my life.  It also keeps me wondering about the Divine Mystery within each one of us and all Creation.   

This past week I’ve been drawn to what we all have in common, which paradoxically is our differences.  My three-month-old Yellow Lab, Oliver, put me on this train of thought with his uniquely own personality.  The breeder who brought us Oliver knew her puppies and wanted what was best for them.  When I told her I hoped our dog would eventually become a Paw Pal volunteer, and accompany me on Hospice visits, she called the family who had already previously selected him, but had not yet taken him in.  She knew the other prospective family had agility training plans and suggested we switch these last remaining puppies from a litter of nine.  When we went to get Oliver he was the puppy content with being held while his brother trotted along the fence line until he found a spot where he could sneak under.  Oliver, however, presents his own challenges like resisting his leash, and lying down on the sidewalk with a devilish look in his eyes that says, “Carry me.”  At a little over 24 pounds now, that is not happening.  And so Oliver is proving that on the flip side of our unique strength, also lays our weakness.

For the past few weeks Richard Rohr’s daily meditations have been offering a brief general overview of the Enneagram as a transformational tool with its nine different energy types (“the reading of souls”).  Knowing our respective gifts, and corresponding shadow, helps us acknowledge and then address our individual darkness.  And it has me thinking, what if we all embraced the fact that what we all have in common is our differences?  For starters, wouldn't it make life a whole lot easier for us and everyone else? 

Comfort Messages

God is...

It has been comforting  to receive consoling messages from friends on Ben's passing.  From those who knew him, "sweet boy,"  was most commonly used to describe his personality.  Above all else, Ben loved people.  I have been wondering this past week about his fierce unconditional love and how dogs in general are often ascribed as possessing this grace.  Did God forget to give dogs an ego or was it an intentional omission designed to teach us how to love in kind?

Ben makes a cameo appearance in the second last paragraph of my memoir, "God Never Hurries."  It reads:  "I have a new walking partner now.  His name is Ben.  A Yellow Lab--Peter Pan-like.  He'll never grow up.  But he is the incarnation of joy."  Bear, who died when Ben was a pesky puppy, played a major role in my life and memoir as I struggled with my aging parents' care needs.  My description of Bear reads, "He was a beautiful black Shepherd-Husky mix.  Wolf-like.  He loved our walks and me."  Lydia, a Beagle-Cocker mix with long silky black ears so comforting to stroke, preceded Bear and has a mention in my memoir too, "For most of her nearly 17 years we took a walk every evening.  It was a joyful ritual that allowed for reflection on the day and time to regroup for the next."  Looking back I now see how Lydia, Bear and Ben came into my life at the right time to help me walk with deeper psychological and spiritual discovery.  And now they wait for me.  

The following is from a winter walk to the beach with Bear:  

"With the waning afternoon sun the high bluff had already shaded the beach.  Its coldness did not beckon.  I climbed to an icy ridge at the valley's mouth and lay on my stomach to look into a crevice where I could hear chunky water rush to and fro.  When I looked out from this prone position, I could see the low angled sunlight shine through dense, light green waves.  Just before their whitecaps broke, I felt each wave's power.  Bear came and stood over me looking into the noisy crevice.  He gave me his puzzled look.  He doesn't get my fascinations and I wondered if it was because he is more naturally one with his surroundings.  But he licked my cheek anyway.  Then my happy face and Bear walked back through the silent valley."

What if we could each find courage, comfort and strength waiting for us outside our door where the mystery of God waits for us in nature?

Nature is...

God is...

I attended a Schlitz Audubon Nature Center, Spiritual World of Nature program this past week where we were invited to briefly share what nature means to us.  I said, “Nature is where God talks and I listen.”  After speaking those words I began to appreciate again the gifts accompanying the suffering that led me into the natural world where I found a unique solace and answers to many of life’s toughest questions. I am grateful for having recorded the comfort and insights I experienced in my memoir “God Never Hurries.”  Now I can remember and relive them, and share with others.

Nature is—where the morning sun beamed through the trees and whispered, “Be not afraid;” where I came to know a caring Presence to whom I belong; it is celebrating freedom at dusk that was like a trip to the moon on gossamer wings; it is a magnificent, warm, soul soaking rain; it is a huge oak tree where I sometimes took my troubles and always parted with a sense of communion and strength; it is a blue moonlit snow drift where I played with my late son Joe and dog Lydia; it is a bright, fall, moonlit night that called me outside to write one night; it is the smell of wood smoke in my sweatshirt and the rustle of dry leaves in dark trees above that gave me respite from my troubles; it is a curious deer that encouraged my curiosity and later another deer that showed me all is Eucharist; it is tall gray herons wading in a thick gray blanket of fog that let me sense the seamlessness of the world’s soul; it is a sunlit fog that showed the church of my birth in a rusting old car buried upside down on the beach; it is water running under a milky cascade of ice on the bluff that sounded like a happy, vibrant church where everyone has a voice; and peddling my bike past a swamp, where I heard frogs talking, I was reminded to talk more and share myself with others.  I could go on and on but I think you can understand why I listen when God talks.    

A common theme from others who shared what nature meant for them at last week’s program was a sense of balance and centering.  And then our competent instructor led us to see how the interdependency of diverse natural communities is the source of their strength and order. 

We too are a part of the natural world.  Could valuing the interdependency of our diverse human communities lead us to strength and order?  What if we all prayed toward that end?         

My Spider

God is...

Who among you reading this would like a spider as your totem helper?  You might want to think about that for a while as I did this past weekend while on a Women Gathering retreat sponsored by Way of the Willow.  We were told we would journey with a drumbeat, our breath, and come to know our totem animal.  I wondered how that might happen.  I had some preconceived notions of animals that hold special meaning for me and I wondered if it might be a wolf, deer, coyote, fox, or armadillo.  But no, it was none of those.  With my eyes closed in the shaded room, and the steady beating of the drum, a spider showed up.

I didn’t want to believe it at first, but there it was just a darker shade of the dark, plump and fuzzy, suspended from a thin dark thread. I asked myself what it could possibly teach me and then began thinking:

Suspend judgment of others and myself.

Suspend anxiety for things undone.

Suspend the need to be perfect or right.

Look around and know that all is good.

When the exercise was over I eagerly sought out a book in the room, “Animal Speak--The Spiritual and Magical Powers of Creatures Great and Small” and began to fall in love with my spider as I read:  “Spider is the keeper of primordial alphabet.  Spider can teach how to use the written language with power and creativity so that your words weave a web around those who would read them.”  Spiders were also said to be a combination of gentleness and strength, and part of spider’s medicine is to maintain balance between life and death, waking and sleeping.  Who wouldn’t love that?

Each woman attending this retreat had a different totem animal come to her with unique and appropriate gifts and medicines.  It was a serious, but also very fun weekend, as we shared pieces of our lives and helped heal one another through our laughter and tears.

In a Saturday evening ceremony we each put on our wise woman shawls and spoke words that told what was important for us to remember.  I prayed, Dear God, Thank you for the gift of these women.  I know my serenity will be subject to forgetting so may I always remember the way back to it.  Help me trust what comes, comes because it needs to; show me ways I can celebrate what doesn’t get done so I can enjoy the present; help me let go of feeling too responsible; help me hold the questions with infinite patience and learn from them; may I find joy and new ideas in the accomplishment of others; remind me there is always a choice versus the victim role.  Thank you for being my power within and reminding me to “Be not afraid.”  And thank you for my spider.

What if everyone had the opportunity for a fun and healing time and could remember the way back to it when it fades?  I think we would all heal our planet.