Spiritual Direction Book Launch

On Friday, October 24, I finished teaching at Spartanburg Methodist College and headed down to Columbia, SC.  I was intrigued by a book launch, and the stars aligned so that I could attend.  One of my grad school friends came with me; she and I are not only grad school friends, but also writers and creative people who have been fascinated by book launches.

That said, we weren't sure what to expect.  Melanie Dobson, the head of the Spiritual Direction Certificate program at Southern Seminary (LTSS), wrote the book, so it made sense that the book launch would be at Washington United Methodist Church downtown.  The event took place in the smaller chapel, a beautiful choice.

I knew very little about the book, but I knew I would buy it regardless.  I like to support writers generally, but I especially like to support writers I know.  I knew that my book purchase would also support All Good Books, an independent bookstore in 5 Points.  I was happy that they were there and set up early; we arrived early too, so we bought our books and settled in.

The book launch was great.  Melanie Dobson spoke a bit about how she approached both the book writing and spiritual direction.  Then we watched group spiritual direction happen.  Three members of her spiritual direction group were present and they came forward.  We watched a shorter version of what they do when they are together in their regular, private meetings.

There was an opening prayer, and then the directee spoke for five minutes.  There was a moment of silence to see what bubbled to the service.  Then each of the women spoke to the directee for three minutes each about what they thought God might be saying.  Then there was closing prayer.

Then came an interesting twist:  we did a bit of spiritual direction too.  We broke into smaller groups, 3-5 people who happened to be sitting near us.  One person volunteered to be the directee, and the rest of us gave insight.  It was slightly shorter, and slightly less personal, since we didn't know each other.  But it was deeply satisfying nonetheless.

Afterward, there was an actual meal in the fellowship hall.  I was expecting refreshments, but something more along the lines of cheese and crackers.  The meal was salad and soup and bread--but a much more extensive selection than I'm used to seeing:  4 soups, several breads, several crackers, and 3 types of salad greens with about 20 bowls of various salad toppings to choose from.  We also had dessert!  I regret that I took no pictures--it was really impressive.

The book signing was leisurely, which gave us time to meet others and to have more personalized attention from Melanie Dobson.  I did feel bad for her--it seemed like it might be exhausting, but I realize it could also be gratifying.

As the evening progressed, I found myself thinking about whether or not I wanted to do more with spiritual direction.  I earned the certificate and promptly moved on to being an MDiv student.  I'm just recording this whisper, because I want to remember it.

If ever I do decide to do more in the field, the book is an amazing resource, with lots of great ideas for how to do spiritual direction--it's the best resource I've seen on the subject.

Guiding Meditation

This morning's writing time is shorter, since I need to write a rough draft of tomorrow's sermon--I'm not too worried about it, since I've been composing it in my head.  But I do want to get a draft down before breakfast.  Let me collect some fragments from the last few days that I don't want to lose.

--We've been doing lots of guided meditations.  At the beginning of yesterday's guided meditation at the end of our mysticism module, we put a hand over our hearts.  I was able to slip my hand inside my shirt and put my fingers on my skin.  I wrapped my other hand around my wrist and felt my pulse.  I adjusted my fingers and hand to actually feel my heart beat.  We focused on our breath:  one phrase for the inhale and one for the exhale.  Eventually the goal was to have the words drop away, and we could be one with God.  I found it very grounding to feel my heart beating.

--At the beginning of our Howard Thurman module yesterday afternoon and again for closing worship yesterday evening, we did lectio divina with Thurman's work.  It was a great way to enter a difficult text:  take a smaller chunk of it and read it several times (we did 4) noting the word or phrase that spoke to us.  I wondered if first year college students could benefit from this practice.  I plan to find out!

--Our small group discussions have been powerful.  I don't always have that feeling about small groups, but this time, I've enjoyed them.  Better, I've felt nourished by them.

--This whole time at seminary has felt nourishing.  I'm glad I had this time to slip away, before my summer commitments start, before the seminary closes.

Ghost Seminary

 One reason I wanted to come to this intensive is that it's the last time we'll be on this campus.  Earlier this year, the announcement came that the seminary would be moved to the Lenoir-Rhyne campus in Hickory, NC.  Frankly, as I move around campus, it feels like everybody has already moved there.

I will spend time in the library today, the library that has more books by itself than the whole of the library holdings at the Lenoir-Rhyne campus.  I fear for these books.  I know what often happens:  people will look at the last time a book was checked out and decide that no one is interested and toss the book.  The idea of that makes me sorrowful in so many ways, even as I admit that I rarely check out physical books from my own seminary campus (admittedly harder from a distance).

The dining facility has group pictures of all graduating classes, and I've had fun looking for people I know.  But along the line, I thought about the size of the classes.  We've been told that the seminary must move because there are fewer students.  But based on these pictures, the seminary has never had many students.  The largest graduating class was roughly 30 students.  Far more typical is the class of 1990:

Now, there are other good reasons for moving the seminary.  It's clear that it's been awhile since the buildings were maintained.  My small group is meeting in a building that reeks of mildew, even though the AC is running.  As I walk back to my seminary apartment that's on the far end of the complex, I can see the stucco about to break apart on the walls, and every AC unit looks like it's about to rust through completely.

Still, I hate to think of losing this campus, particularly as I take guesses at what might happen to it.  In yesterday's small group session, I talked about feeling grief about this part of the future.  I talked about how it's a shame to have all this infrastructure disappear into more urban development when so much could be done.  My friend said, "Like create an arts retreat?"

My friend and I have shared this dream, a retreat center that focuses on liturgical arts, for a long time.  I like the idea of communal living as part of it, but only if the communal living means that each person gets their own living space.  I know how quickly communal situations deteriorate when one person's cleanliness/neatness preferences don't mesh with that of others.

The small group was intrigued by the idea of changing the campus to that kind of vision, and I spent the rest of the day thinking about that possibility.  It might be easier to do such a thing at a place that already offers retreats, like Lutheridge.  It might be easier to do such a thing at a place that is also a small seminary--sigh.

I do realize that I don't have the resources of Lenoir-Rhyne, and so why should I think that I could have different outcomes.  But my mind goes back to part of our large group session yesterday, when our learning leader talked about God planting dreams in us like a farmer plants seeds.  I will continue thinking and writing and dreaming.

We Begin with Native American Spirituality

When I read about the June 2024 onground intensive for the spiritual director's certificate program, I wanted to attend for many reasons; alumni are invited back once a year, and I've been in the past as an alum.  It's great to be reminded of best practices and to discover new techniques.

In terms of the teaching, the focus on Native American spirituality was one of the main reasons I wanted to say yes to the invitation to return.  We covered that material last night, and it did not disappoint. 

Long time readers may remember that I wrote a blog post about a similar experience in January of 2022, and in some ways, last night was similar.  We began with a smudging ceremony.  

This year, no words were spoken during the smudging, but in other ways it was similar.  The smudge stick burned and the tribal elder used the feather to wave the smoke towards us, down one side and then down on the other side, and we lifted the heel of each foot to allow smudging there, too.  When we did the ceremony in January, it was dark and cold outside; it felt a bit strange to do the ceremony in the blinding sunlight of an evening in June (we started at 6:50 p.m.).

Then we moved indoors, where a drum circle had been set up.  There was a big drum in the middle of the circle with 6 Native American women seated around it.  They drummed, and we each had a shaker.  Each shaker was different--here's the one that I chose (I asked permission to photograph it):

Much of the music was the same as the session in 2022, but it was good to revisit it.  The workshop leader told us that the music to "Poor Wayfarin' Stranger" is a Cherokee tune.  We sang the words of "Amazing Grace" to a Creek tune.  Our leader talked about Native American theology and compared it to Christian theology to show that we are worshipping the same God.

She also mentioned the new version of the Bible, the First Nations Version: An Indigenous Translation of the New Testament.  I had seen this version while at seminary, and we have a Kindle copy.  I was glad to know that it was done by Native Americans, that it's not an appropriation.  

After the workshop and the drumming, a woman passed out prayer squares; here's the one I got:

It comes with this card attached:

I love this idea, the idea of a patch of cloth, with strings that can be knotted as one prays.  It's a variation of prayer beads which appeals to my fiber loving self.

Yesterday wasn't even a full day of the intensive, and I already feel like I've gotten more than a full return on my intensive investment.  My cup overflows.

On the Road Again, Towards the Spiritual Direction Certificate Program Reunion

 Today I head down the mountain to Columbia, SC, where later this week I'll go to the Lutheran seminary for the onground intensive for the Spiritual Director's Certificate program.  You might say, "Wait, didn't you already do that certificate?"  Yes, I did, but alumni are invited to return once a year.  I didn't go last year for a variety of reasons.

This year I wanted to go for a variety of reasons, but the biggest one is that the seminary is moving, and this will be the last intensive at the Columbia campus.  I don't know what will happen to that property, but I'm fairly sure it will all be bulldozed and turned into something more commercial.  I have all sorts of feelings about that, but I wanted to take this last opportunity to gather on that campus.

I also wanted to go because the curriculum looks great.  Some of it I did before, like the module on Native American spirituality--it was great, and I'm looking forward to returning to the topic.  Some of the material seems new.  And the topic overall, that of how we discern the presence of God in our lives and how we help others to do so--it's a topic that remains interesting to me.

I'm also looking forward to seeing people along the way, grad school friends from long ago, retreat friends, and seminary friends from the certificate days (who are different from seminary friends from Wesley days).  

As I've been thinking about our current situation, I'm so happy to realize how wealthy we are in friends and families who are within a 3 hour radius of our house.  We had friends in South Florida, of course, but so many of them had moved away by the time we moved.  And during a week like this, when tropical flooding is expected all week long in South Florida, I'm so grateful that we figured out a way to move to a safer spot, even as I miss the people we left behind.

News of a Seminary Relocation

 Yesterday was a mix:  a wintry mix that turned to rain which lasted all day, lots of cooking (chicken stock and pumpkin bread), sermon research, never as much writing as I hope to do but some.  And then, in the late afternoon, news that the Lutheran seminary in Columbia (LTSS) will be relocating to the Hickory, NC campus of Lenoir-Rhyne.  If you want lots of information, this website is fairly comprehensive.

Of course, that website can't tell me some of what I'd most like to know--it can't predict the future, and it can't give me specific details about professors.  There's no mention of the spiritual direction certificate program, which I imagine will relocate along with the seminary.

The graph that shows enrollment is shocking, but not surprising.  If I'm interpreting the graph correctly, there are 40 MDiv students enrolled right now.  When I attended graduation in May, I was surprised by how few seminary graduates there were; the bulk of graduates were in Occupational Therapy and other programs run out of the Columbia campus.  Each time I've been on campus during the past few years, I've been surprised by how few people are on the campus.  Lenoir-Rhyne is formalizing what has been happening informally for years, if not decades.

I do wonder what will happen to the campus.  If I had several million . . . wait, it would take more than several million.  Even if I could buy the campus for several million, there's still lots of maintenance work that needs to happen, millions in deferred maintenance.  And I can barely manage a small house on a small piece of land; why do I think I can handle a small campus?

I imagine that the departure won't mean much to the larger city of Columbia--there are other schools and universities that are much more integral to the economy of the town and the state.  And I do understand that by being at the larger Lenoir-Rhyne campus, seminarians can take a wider diversity of classes, like language classes, management classes, and a huge array of counseling classes.  Those kinds of classes would have been available at the University of South Carolina, but it's not easy to take classes elsewhere and get them transferred back in, not easy for schools to create transferability.  

I feel most bad for students who will have decisions to make.  A move from Columbia, SC to Hickory, NC is no small thing--it's not a commutable distance.  There's never a good time to endure this kind of upheaval.  Potential seminarians with families to consider have probably already made different decisions.  Other seminaries have done a better job with distance learning that LTSS, and students who needed flexibility probably made different choices along the way; I know that I did.

I feel sadness, too, because of family history.  My grandfather and great uncle went to that seminary, and various friends of mine did too.  I completed my certificate in Spiritual Direction there and loved the campus, even as I wondered where all the people had gone.

I feel more than a quiver of worry about larger aspects of the future and the decline of all sorts of higher ed.  It's not just seminary enrollments that are down.  There's a lack of support for higher ed, and all the other kinds of education, in this country and beyond.  I know that some people are worried about what the decline in seminaries means for the future of the Church, and I do think/hope that people are having those conversations in a larger way, in the groups that do more of the decision making.  I have a sense of the larger scope of history, and I know that times of wrenching change can bring all sorts of positive developments in the aftermath.

Let now be one of those periods (and let the wrenching change give way to positive developments sooner rather than later).

The Holy Trinity and the Renewal of the Church

My small group from the spiritual director certificate program has continued to meet, even after we all graduated.  We check in with each other, and if anyone has any questions/concerns about directees, we have a group to help process it all.  Of course, most of us aren't doing much as spiritual directors, so we don't spend much time problem-solving.

On Tuesday, I told my group that I was working on a paper where I had to explore the Holy Trinity, and parts of the theology that I didn't think really mattered to many 21st century Christians.  Was God alone at first, before God begat the Son and then the Holy Spirit?  Were they all together from the beginning?

One of my group, one who has spent much of her career being a seminary professor at Lutheran seminaries, and her face lit up at the thought of the Trinity.  She said that whenever the Church has been in a quandary about what to do, the Church has found the answer through considering the Trinity.  A study of the Trinity has renewed the vigor for God's work in the world--which happens through the Trinity.

I wanted to ask for specific examples, but I felt I had already used enough of my time talking about the Trinity--not every group member is as into theology as I am.  And even I, who am into theology, am not as interested in issues of the Holy Trinity as other issues.  

I thought about using her comments in the conclusion of my essay, but I went in a different way.  Still, my group member's comment stuck with me, and I want to record it here.

Gathering Fragments from Last Week's Onground Intensive

  A week ago, I’d be getting ready for the onground intensive for the spiritual direction certificate program at LTSS, Southern Seminary in Columbia, SC.  Alert readers will say, “Didn’t you finish that program earlier?”  Yes, I did.  But alumni were welcomed back to participate, since the pandemic disrupted the program for so many of us.  Let me collect a few last fragments and photos, before I forget these nuggets.

--We began our first session with consenting prayer.  Our leader took us through a meditation which asked us where God invites us to be open, in a space of hospitality, around these issues:  security, approval, control, and change.

--Writer Barbara Peacock had interesting insights about what/how the Middle Passage taught the ancestors how to minister to each other and how spiritual direction practices emerged from this time.

--In our last session, we did lectio divina, and at the end, we all shouted the word or phrase that spoke to us, all of us at the same time.  It was an interesting variation.

--I went back and forth to the Chapel. I love the way the light streams through the stained glass lending various colors to the white marble. Stunning!

--I walked the labyrinth each morning, which I enjoyed, even though I didn't receive stunning insights.

--In my small group, conversation came back to the idea of God and bodies. One speaker had tried to connect Eros with God, and I think this speaker was trying to make some connections with alternate sexualities but I wasn't sure. In my small group, we talked about how an embodied God is difficult if one lives in a body that is not approved of by one’s larger society.

--It was good for me to talk about these ideas with other people outside of my small group, people who were not as discomfited as I was.  We talked about Eros and the Holy Spirit, which seemed a bit better than Eros and God the Father. We talked about Eros not as a sexual energy, but an energy that was embodied in multiple ways.

--I do wonder what it would mean if we took seriously this notion that all are created in the image of God. We would have to expand our vision of God. What would it mean if we worshipped a God who is disabled, in ways that so many of us are disabled? It would certainly challenge our idea of God as all powerful, which is fine with me, but I realize it would be a tough sell for others. Throughout the week I tried to straighten my fingers as I continue to heal from my wrist injury. Some days I was more successful than others. The idea of a disabled God makes sense to me.

--Should I be using the term differently abled to God? But I do mean disabled, a God without full ability, a God who may have developed other capabilities in the absence of full capability.

--We had more free time scheduled into this intensive than in the past so I reached out to an old college friend who lives in Charlotte, and happily she was free on Friday afternoon and willing to drive down.  We met at a coffee shop staffed by people who wore T shirts of the bands of our youth. The guy who took our order had a patch on his leather vest that was a replication of The Smiths’ album, The Queen Is Dead. I said, “I paid $5 for that album back in the day.” He told me he had paid $35 for his vinyl copy. Maybe I should take a closer look at the records that are in the box of records that need to be sorted. Of course I have no idea how to find the people who would pay $35 for my old vinyl.

--It was great to drink coffee with my friend on the hottest day of the year so far, as REM's “Don't Go Back to Rockville” played softly in the background. As with the best of friends, it was like no time had passed at all. Throughout the week I had the feeling of falling through a hole in time. Time has felt more fluid.

--We ended with a commissioning service and the singing of  “I the Lord of Sea and Sky” with its refrain of being willing to go where God sends us.

--Take a good look at this picture:

 

 

I am sure that I’ve never been at a  communion service presided over by two female African-American ordained clergy.  Wow!

I went forth, fed and nourished in so many ways.

 

Crucial Questions for Spiritual Directees and for Us All

Yesterday at our onground intensive, Dr. Amy Oden gave a presentation about spiritual direction which included some interesting questions for directees, questions that would be valuable outside of spiritual direction:

--When and where and with whom do you feel most alive right now?

--When and where and with whom are you able to rest and to be yourself?

--How do you listen to your life?

--What is your favorite time of day? What makes it your favorite time of day?

Our presenter noted that this question helps figure out when we are most present to both self        and God, and she says it's one of the best questions that she's using with her directees right now.

--Where in daily life do you connect with God?

Dr.Oden pointed out that we already have a connection to the holy; God is already showing up and planting seeds.  Identifying those seeds can be a crucial part of the spiritual direction process.

She presented the problems with our self-improvement culture and these problems aren't unfamiliar to most of us. One of the problems that we may not consider is that turning our spiritual life or our creative life or our relationship life into a self-improvement project can lead to a lot of self-judgment and shame. Instead of giving ourselves encouragement because we are able to meditate for at least 7 minutes a day, we feel bad because we can't go for 45 minutes a day.

Dr. Oden encouraged us to help our directees (and ourselves!) turn our gaze away from self-judgment and shame but towards desire and yearning. Many of us are already doing some of the things that are important to us we might be able to do more if we could get away from our tendency towards self-judgment and shame. 

Praying with Icons

Last night's worship involved praying with icons. I wasn't sure what to expect--would we have actual icons in the worship space with us? We did in a way, but it was more like a slideshow. Still it was profoundly moving.

Our worship leader used the word icon in all of its connotations, both the traditional icon painted by orthodox artists along with more modern work. Our worship leader also included a meditation after the slideshow where he talked about how we can be icons both in the way we illuminate the work of God to others and in the way we see others as icons, even if they don't see themselves as that way.

But it was the slide show that was the best part of this service. I would have been perfectly happy to spend an hour or two meditating on these icons.

We took 10 minutes, one minute per icon.  there were several screens throughout the room so my view of the icon was not impeded. Classical music played behind the sites the slideshow.

I expected something like this icon (this version is a print that hangs in the Mepkin Abbey refectory):

Indeed a version of this icon was one of the slides, along with an icon that looked much older like it had been just dug up from an archaeological site.  I wasn’t able to find that one online.  I also was not able to find the icon of Christ wearing a crown of thorns with the crown of thorns in bloom. That one will stay with me.

We had this icon, a depiction of the Annunciation:

I thought that this work of art was much more modern but when I researched it, I found out that it was actually painted as the 19th century turned into the 20th century and painted by an African-American artist, Henry Ossawa Tanner. When I've seen it before, I thought the work was Irish.

I was much more profoundly moved by this icon, a version of the Visitation painted by Mickey McGrath:

I love the colors and the exuberance and the patterns. I loved this image so much that I brought it up on my computer when I returned to my room and spent some more time with it.

Last night was our experimentation with silence so we left the worship service in silence, except for the thunder that had been rumbling for hours. As I stared at the icon on my computer, I noticed that my west facing window was full of a strange light. I knew I could look at images of icons at any hour, but I wouldn't ever again have this exact sunset with the light diffused by the gray clouds. I watched the sky for half an hour, something I do not do very often.

I didn't even try to capture the light with my camera. I decided to use our experiment with silence as a prompt to be fully present to the light of the sunset, to the darkening sky, and to the presence of God.

Various Versions of Divina

Yesterday, we did several sessions of lectio divina.  Lectio devina is different than Bible study; the traditional approach is to read a Bible passage several times, often out loud, and to listen to what God might be saying to the listener. Often the second reading will have the listener choose a word or phrase that God is using to speak to the listener, and subsequent readings have the listener focus that word or phrase.

My experiences with lectio divina have been like the one we had in the evening worship service where the passage is a longer passage. In last night's worship service we used the text of Psalm 8, the whole Psalm.

During our afternoon instructional time, we used a much shorter passage, part of Psalm 46: 10, just 8 words:  "Be still, and know that I am God."

Our lectio divina leader told us to listen for three words and to let them minister to us. In a later reading we were to choose one of those three words as the one that was speaking to us.  We had time to meditate on the words, and we had time to share our insights with another member of the group.

We also did visio divina, a practice that is not as well known. Barbara L. Peacock was our special guest and instructional leader yesterday. She's the author of one of the books that the program uses, Soul Care in African American Practice. On the larger screen we saw a projection of the book cover: 

It's a gorgeous cover but it wasn't the first cover. She told us that the first cover had a background of kente cloth, along with the images of Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King, and someone else (Frederick Douglass?) overlayed.  Her adult daughter who is a graphic designer said that the cover was too retro and that the fresh work inside the cover needed a better cover.  And so they came up with one.

The cover shows all kinds of abstract shapes, along with vivid colors, and we were asked to focus on one section of the cover and to see what was revealed.  Those who were willing were encouraged to share what they saw, and I was surprised by how many different images we saw. I saw a little house with a garden just under the left side of the white box that holds the title.  Others saw rivers or thorny branches or nebulas.  Some of us focused on the form of the woman with the uplifted head that his presented in shadow.

One of the things that I appreciated yesterday is that we didn't just talk about spiritual practices that we might use in life and in spiritual direction, but we actually practiced them together. The small group work didn't take up inordinate amounts of time, the way they sometimes can.

I am aware that the practices may not work for everyone, and happily, we will experience a variety of practices. I am about to go walk the labyrinth before it gets too much hotter and then I'll go to a morning worship of centering prayer--all of this before breakfast. I will begin the day nourished in so many ways.

Back to Southern

On Tuesday, I will head back up I 95 and eventually end up in Columbia SC at Southern Seminary. Even though I finished my certificate in spiritual direction back in January, we've all been invited back to have an alumni experience. I don't know if we'll get this invitation every time; we got it this time, in part, because we had had so few on ground intensive because of the pandemic.

In January, I spent some time thinking about how much had changed in the two years since I had last been to campus. This morning I am thinking of how much has changed in the last five and a half months since I've been to campus. Most of the changes will be for the better in the long run, I think (and hope). But it is an astonishing amount of change in just a few months.

In early January, I still had a full-time job with the reason to think that the job would be ending. A month later that job had ended. In early January, I still owned a house in a flood zone, although I was hopeful that I was about to sell it. Indeed I did come back and sell the house just before losing my job. In early January, I still had not taken my second semester of seminary classes, and now I have. Happily, I am still enjoying them.

The most unexpected change is my spouse‘s outlook.  Back in January, I assumed he would never consider leaving Florida. He might want to move a bit north in Florida, but he had repeatedly told me he never wanted to leave. And now his mood is different. While he will still feel sad about leaving, the cheaper cost of living in other states is more attractive than the more expensive warmer weather of Florida.  We've spent the last several months thinking about dozens of possible housing adventures. In the next few weeks, as our plans solidify, I'll say more about the next housing adventure which will not be in Florida.

The weather forecast for Columbia SC for this week reminds me that South Florida summers are fairly mild. I am leaving daytime highs of 92 for daytime highs of 106. Of course the times that the warm weather in South Florida bothered me most was in October, when it was still 92 in the daytime, or February, which has more very warm days than cool days.

Let me wrap up this blog post so I can finish some packing for the trip ahead and continue packing for the larger adventure ahead.

Eighteenth and Nineteenth Visits to the Spiritual Director

Two years ago, I went to my first meeting with the spiritual director.  It was our getting to know you meeting, and from there, we both decided to work together.  Faithful readers of this blog may have noticed that I have done a write up each time I visit her.  In part, I did that because I wanted a record, both for myself and in case the spiritual direction certificate program asked about it.

I had always been interested in the idea of a spiritual director, but I had never had one of my own.  When I started the spiritual direction certificate program, I knew that it was a requirement that I find one.  On the whole, it's been a good experience.  I often hear my spiritual director ask me, "How are you praying about that?"

We've also done a lot of work on the idea of my need to control not only my life, but the choices of my loved ones.  We've talked a lot about how interference means that individuals don't get to do the healing and walk the path that they need to.

My eighteenth visit to my spiritual director was in December, and we talked about whether or not to continue seeing each other.  We were both willing, but my spiritual director did comment that she noticed that at times we were going deep into a subject, and she noticed that I would pull back.

I spent the last two months thinking about that trait of mine.  I immediately knew that she wasn't wrong about my tendency to back away from painful topics.  In large part, I knew that I would cry, and I didn't want to return to the office with a blotchy face.  And there's something about crying that makes me feel like I'm being a burden to whomever is watching me cry, even as I realize that those people aren't likely to feel that way about me.  Part of it is exhaustion because I'm usually covering the same emotional territory, and I'm just ready to be done with it.

Aren't I spiritually developed and evolved yet?

Yes, I do realize that most types of development more represent a spiral than a straight line.  Sigh.

When I visited my spiritual director on Thursday, our nineteenth visit, I returned to the question about vulnerability and my tendency to back away.  It was a fruitful conversation, as was the rest of our conversation.  Between our 18th and 19th visits, lots had happened:  we sold our house, and I was severed from my full-time job.  Neither event was unexpected, but the timeline wasn't clear at my 18th visit.

As I drove home, I heard a bit of President Biden's press conference about the U.S. response to the Russian invasion of Ukraine.  I was impressed with how resolute he sounded, how calm, how firm.  I thought of ancient prophets.  Would I have thought of ancient prophets if I hadn't been working on several projects for a seminary class?  Probably.

After dinner, before my Thursday night class, we went out to the rooftop deck of our parking garage to see the sun set.  I thought about my spiritual director's most common question and that night, the way that we prayed about it all was to sing "Dona Nobis Pacem."

Farewell Thich Nhat Hanh

Thich Nhat Hanh died yesterday.  Dave Bonta made this interesting observation on Facebook:  "Centuries from now, when the French and US wars in Indochina merit little more than a footnote in history textbooks, Thich Nhat Hanh will be remembered as one of the great teachers of the 20th century."

Many people who are posting tributes to him today are commenting on his practice of mindfulness, a skill most of us sorely need.  For my certificate in spiritual direction program, we read his book Silence, which was one of the better books of the program.  As I recall, it's a book that explores all the inner voices that can make us miserable.  Hanh says, “If you’re like most people, you probably have a notion that there’s some as yet unrealized condition that has to be attained before you can be happy” (p. 71). He goes on to talk about analyzing where we got these ideas of happiness and what would make us happy—and more importantly he goes on to talk about how we need to let go of those ideas of what would make us happy and just focus on what we have in our life, focus on what’s there.

I realize how I approach so much of my life as a giant self-improvement project, a self-improvement project that I’m failing all the time. What a relief it would be to let go of that and just focus on what is.  I imagine that many of us would find it a relief.

In this book, Hanh reminds us again and again that there are many kinds of non-silence, and a meditative mindset is the only way to silence. That doesn’t mean we never talk or that we never go online. It means that if we’re eating, we’re eating and focused on truly experiencing the food and the sensations of eating. If we want to talk, we focus on that. We don’t walk and think. We walk and focus on the sensations of walking, along with noticing and appreciating our surroundings.

For people who feel that all of this silence can slip into a solipsistic mindset, Hanh reminds us :  “Your thoughts can make you and the world around you suffer more or suffer less” (p. 54).  Maybe we would be more mindful of our thoughts if we truly believed we could repair the world by doing so.

Of course, most of us have trouble mastering mindfulness even when the goal is simply to heal ourselves.  It's a spiritual practice that requires more of most of us.

But Hanh never stopped reminding us of how important it is.  And it's only one of the principles and commitments that he advocated.  Truly, one of our important spiritual minds is gone, at least in the human flesh format.

Commissioned and Back from the Last Onground Intensive

 I am sitting here at my grandfather's desk, trying to pull all my bits and pieces together before heading into my work office, and my later in the morning trip to the lawyer's office to sign closing documents.  I would likely feel a bit discombobulated anyway, but having a closing today does add to the sense of whiplash.  Let me try to ground myself by writing.

It is strange to think that a week ago, I had just taken my parents to the airport, which was more hectic than I had ever seen it from the drop off vantage.  My parents managed to get home to the Richmond airport and then over the snowy roads to Williamsburg.  It is strange to think that two weeks ago, our Marco Island time together was just beginning.

As I sat in the chapel of the seminary on Saturday, I thought about how 2 years ago, my church blessed me and anointed me with water from the Holy Land before I started my certificate program.  I thought about sitting in the chapel at the commissioning service feeling happy at the thought that I would be returning to seminary three more times before my own commissioning service in June of 2021.  And then the pandemic descended and one onground intensive was canceled, and I only just returned to the seminary campus in January of 2022.

My own commissioning service on Saturday was different from the one in 2020, and vastly different from the one in January of 2021, which was done by way of Zoom.  For my commissioning service, those of us being commissioned came to the baptismal font:

Here's a longer view of that space:

We stood between the font and the iron ropes.  The leaders of the program gathered behind us, and they said words of blessing over us.  I hope to get a copy of the words, so that I can savor them more fully, since I can scarcely remember them today.  We did not get anointed with oil, so that the Zoom experience and the in-person experience would be similar.  That was fine with me; I am happy to be anointed with words.

All too soon it was over, and we all went out into the Saturday sunlight and drove away.  I drove to my grad school friend's house.  We had a lovely lunch and talked about the future of higher education and housing issues.  Then I left her and went to another grad school friend's house.  We went for dinner to Motor Supply Company, a restaurant that was one of the first to open in the Vista district, back before it was the revitalized strip that it is today.  We have been eating there for decades, dating back to when it first opened and seemed so upscale, so glamorous, such a great use of a space that had once been a mill or a warehouse.  It still is.

I spent much of yesterday driving home.  The trip back almost always seems zippy at first, as the states fall away, but then there's the long slog down the peninsula of Florida.  You would think that a long drive would give me time to process all these changes and to think about the future, but that is not my experience.  

And now it's back into the intensity of "normal life," along with campus renovations.  At least my seminary classes haven't started yet.  There's still time for a bit of regrouping before "regular life" becomes even more intense.

Second Day of the 2022 Onground Intensive, with Icons

 I am tired this morning--this morning, it's a mix of the bad tired of not getting enough sleep in a bed that's not my own mixed with the good tired that comes from getting modules completed and staying up late to have good conversations with a Create in Me friend.  So let me try to capture the second full day of the intensive.

I tried to tell myself that it's called an intensive, not a relaxive, but I did feel myself racing from place to place yesterday.  We had a morning learning session on Native American spiritual practices.  I didn't learn a lot that was brand new, but it was interesting to hear it presented in the form of story and Native flute.

And for those of us reeling from the latest pandemic developments, here's an interesting note:  because they were suffering an outbreak of smallpox, the Catawba tribe was not relocated to Georgia with the rest of the South Carolina tribes.  Because they were not relocated to Georgia, they were spared from the trauma of the Trail of Tears and from being relocated even further west.

We had two small group sessions, and in between, I enjoyed a post-lunch walk with my spouse's brother.  I wasn't expecting him to be on campus because seminary students don't return until later in January, but he had to return to work on his externship--a happy surprise.  It was good to catch up.  I'm not sure we've ever had one-on-one time.  I usually see him when there are gobs of family members around.

The highlight of yesterday was the trip to the Greek Orthodox cathedral:

It was actually 2 cathedrals.  We started out in the smaller, older one.  

We got an information session about spiritual direction in the Greek Orthodox tradition, and then we went to the new cathedral that was finished in 2015.  We got an information session about the tradition of icons and about the specific icons in the cathedral.

This icon of Jesus is in the main dome, seven stories from the floor.  The distance from one tip of his nose to the other tip is 15 feet, although it doesn't look that big from the ground.

He is depicted as having no lower body, because the church filled with believers makes up the lower body.

There's a lot of information about the cathedral and all of the icons here.  My favorite piece of information that's not included is that the iconographer met with the Sunday school students to find out what specific animals they wanted him to include in his depiction of the creation story:

I was surprised that there weren't any dinosaurs: 

Two years ago when I first started this program, I heard about this field trip, and I am so glad that I finally got to go and see for myself.  It was one of the parts of the intensive that I was most looking forward to.

We returned to campus for dinner and Compline service.  Even though we were all tired after Compline, a group of us came to our on campus ramshackle house and enjoyed some treats and wine--and most of all, some good conversation.

In a few hours, there will be a commissioning service, and I will be a certified spiritual director.  Tomorrow I will drive home, and hopefully on Monday we will sell our house in the historic district.  Then I will get ready for seminary classes.

Let me focus on staying present to today's delights.  Let me not get overwhelmed by what is coming in the rest of January.

First Full Day of the 2022 Onground Intensive

 As I moved through the first full day of the onground intensive, the one that will leave me a certified spiritual director, I had to remind myself several times that it's called an "intensive," not a restful retreat, not a reconnect with every old friend you've ever had week, not an explore Columbia voyage.  We went at an intense pace yesterday, and today we won't have the afternoon break that we had yesterday.  But I am looking forward to exploring icons in a Greek Orthodox church this afternoon, so hopefully, we won't need a break.  

During yesterday's break, we went to the Fresh Market to buy wine and treats.  By the end of the evening, we were too exhausted to set out the treats.  But it was the good kind of exhaustion, the kind that comes from being fully engaged.

I began the intensive in the chapel.  I had volunteered to help with the morning service, and I wrote some Epiphany prayers (for more, go to this blog post and scroll to the end).  The other volunteer whispered, "Beautiful prayers" when I was finished, and that made me so happy.

The day was filled with a mix of educational sessions and small group work.  I've had the same small group for 2 years, and I feel fortunate that I like them so much.  This program would be impossible if one didn't like one's small group, or if a small group had a divisive person in it.

Yesterday's educational sessions addressed the history of spiritual direction in the Roman Catholic and Anglican/Episcopalian traditions (morning session), and in the afternoon, we explored the history of spiritual direction in the Protestant tradition.  They were good sessions, very informative, almost overwhelming at times.  I didn't know about John Wesley's mother Susannah, who had 10 children who lived and who ran the family home like a monastery of sorts, thus giving John Wesley some of his most inspired ideas about how to live in Christian community.  I must remember to read more about this remarkable woman.

Along the way, I made this sketch, and a haiku to go along with it:

I created it after hearing/reading the second chapter of the Gospel of Matthew several times throughout the day and a session of lectio divina; here are the words to the haiku:

Take another road
Become overwhelmed with joy
The true treasure chest

In the evening, after a wonderful dinner, we heard from Axiom Farms, the ones who prepared our meal.  They have all sorts of initiatives to reach out to underserved, minority populations, to bring them healthier food and information about how to grow one's food and most importantly, to inspire people to have hope.  They have created a garden on the grounds of the seminary.  There's plenty of room--the seminary sits back from the road, and between the buildings and the road is a huge expanse of lawn.  The partnership with the seminary made me want to change all my plans--and do what, exactly?  Come to this seminary?  Buy a plot of land and farm it?  Give them money to support their work?  Yes, to all of those.  I'm not likely to act on any of them, at least not this month, but it was good to feel that hope for the future myself, even if I'm not the target audience for Axiom Farms.

We adjourned to the courtyard for our evening worship.  There's a Native American group that we'll learn more about today who came last night.  They had a smudging ceremony in the courtyard.  We each stepped forward to be smudged with sage that smoked in what looked like a giant shell.  The elders swirled the smoke around us with big feathers.

I wish I could have heard better.  At first I thought the same words were repeated with everyone, but as I watched, I realized that wasn't true.  I was second to be smudged.  The female elder of the tribe said, "Oh, such strong shoulders" as she touched them with the feather.  She said, "And a good heart."  I'm not sure of the rest, although at one point, she did say, "We're getting rid of all negativity."

Later she told me that there are 4 types of smudging smoke:  tobacco, sage, sweetgrass, and cedar.  I wonder if those smudging ceremonies are different.

The one we experienced last night was very powerful.  Many of us cried a bit, and a few of us were deeply shaken, and I'm not sure whether it was in a good way or a bad way.  Once again, I was reminded of how cerebral most of our mainline Protestant worship services are, and how it might be much more powerful/effective to do more embodied practices.

We then went into Alumni Hall for a drum circle, which is different from many drum circles.  There was a big, round drum in the center of the room with 6 people around it.  Their drum sticks looked like they had big cotton swabs on the end.  Around this drum circle, we sat in chairs that were much too close to each other, but this room is the largest on campus.

It was interesting to be in a room of Native Americans, after hearing from African Americans, all of whom were trying to reclaim cultures and practices that can heal both people and land.

We learned that some hymns, like "Spirit of the Living God" and "Amazing Grace," can be sung to Native melodies played on the Native wind instrument which I think is called a flute but looks more like a recorder.  We learned some Native phrases so that we could sing refrains to other songs and chants.  For one song, two women did a bit of a dance between the drum circle and our seated circle.  It was a meaningful experience, but nothing can compare to the smudging ceremony.  

It makes me want to create/recover similar ceremonies that draw from Protestant traditions.  I'm aware of the dangers of appropriating the culture of others, but I'm also certain that Christian communities have done something similar with incense and thuribles, so I don't think I'd be in the dangers appropriation territory.

I am ready to see what today brings.  I am so glad that I decided to attend in person.  In fact, knowing that we would experience the Native American version of Christian worship and that we would be going to a Greek Orthodox church to see icons in their home setting--those were two main reasons that convinced me that in person would be better for me than remote.

And if anyone asks if these experiences would be worth it, even if I get sick, I would say that yes, barring long COVID, it has been worth it.

Traveling to the Last Onground Intensive

 If it was this time yesterday, I would have been on the road for two hours.  I got up, brewed some coffee for the thermoses, and headed north to Columbia, South Carolina for the last onground intensive for my certificate in spiritual direction.  By Saturday afternoon, I will be a certified spiritual director.  Two weeks from today, my next round of seminary classes start.

As I drove, I reflected on the past 2 years.  As I've made my way through this program, it's become clear to me that seminary was really what I wanted to do.  I have liked the certificate program well enough, but the way that many people approach the practice of spiritual direction is a little too close to therapy for me.  I am not trained to do that.

I had a fairly easy trip up I95 and I26.  Along the way, I listened to NPR, with stories of rising COVID rates and the snowstorm that shut down part of I95 in Virginia.  I listened to analysts looking back to the storming of the Capitol on January 6.  I thought about my trip two years ago to the first onground intensive and how much has changed since then. 

As I drove through South Carolina, I saw an unusual amount of downed trees, and I got to the campus of Southern Seminary (LTSS) to discover that power was out on the campus.  Happily, the commuter house where I'm staying still has power, water, and wi-fi.  I'm not sure what will happen as the week progresses if the power isn't restored.

I am guessing that we will move to an alternate site, which will make this strange intensive even stranger.  It was always going to be strange, as this new, more contagious variant has made more people decide to do the intensive remotely.  Half of my small group will be attending by Zoom.

I did think about whether or not it was wise to be attending in person.  But I really yearned to be at the seminary campus, even though it will be a different experience than last time--perhaps it will be even more different than I was expecting.

One of my Create in Me friends is also working on her certificate, so she came over the mountains yesterday.  In the late afternoon, we went to a really cool cloth shop (we're both quilters) and then to a Latin place for dinner.  We ordered the Latin Sampler for 2; it could easily have served 4 or 6 or 8, depending on appetites.  We have a kitchen in our commuter house, so we brought leftovers back.  Will we eat them?  Meals are part of this intensive, so I suspect that I will not.

After we returned, we had a long and satisfying conversation with our other housemate who had arrived while we were out; one more will arrive today.  We talked about how this certificate program had changed the trajectory of our lives.  We talked about backpacking and hiking.  We talked about health and the pandemic.  

Throughout the day, I keep thinking about how I had envisioned this January unrolling, back when I first realized my job would be ending in September or December, and so I applied for seminary.  Back then, the intensive was scheduled for MLK week-end, so I planned to go to the intensive and then to keep driving up to study in person at Wesley for the Spring 2022 term.  Much has changed since the planning that I did in the spring.

I want to do some writing while I'm here.  As is often the case, I'm astonished at how long it has been since I have written in my offline journal.  I need to start doing some deep thinking.  It is the day before the feast day of the Epiphany, after all.  I am ready for epiphanies (to which my epiphanies reply, "And we are ready for you to notice our steady light that has been trying to guide you)".

First Saturday in Advent

 I am reading posts about people's holiday ramblings:  craft fairs, breweries, cookie exchanges.  While my life is not quite as glamorous, let me record what the first Saturday in December held for me yesterday:

--I went for a walk early in the morning.  I am noticing pelicans around North Lake, which I've never seen before.  Have some of them set up a homestead?

--I was grumpy for a variety of reasons.  Happily, I was able to talk to my spouse and strategize.  This morning, I am less grumpy.

--I tried to set up a photo that captures my Advent/holiday frame of mind:

--I had a Zoom call with my quilt group.  Should I still call us a quilt group?  That's how I think about us, so I will continue.  It was good to catch up, even though not much has changed for any of us.  There's a tiredness that I'm sensing, a tiredness born of this pandemic, about the fact that we're all working in higher ed at the end of a semester, and about the Zoom call itself.  Or maybe it's just me that has a weariness borne out of a semester of looking at more screens than usual, with my virtual classes that I'm taking for seminary.

--I got off that call and then had another Zoom call with my small group for my certificate in spiritual direction program.  This time the primary purpose for the call was to check in before our in-person intensive in January.  With this new variant, we may not be meeting in person.  Sigh.

--My spouse and I went to the grocery store to get a few provisions:  wine, broccoli, and powdered sugar.  As we walked back, my spouse carrying the 2 wine bags, me carrying broccoli and powdered sugar which I didn't have them put in a bag.  I wondered if people saw us and said, "What recipe are they making?"

--We got back and strung lights on the top rail of our balcony railing.  We plugged them in and played Yahtzee on the balcony to enjoy the lights.

--I also strung some fairy lights on the giant poinsettia:

--We came in and had some cheese and crackers to go with our wine.  The broccoli is for today's late lunch/early dinner of turkey tetrazzini and baked sweet potatoes.  The powdered sugar was just in case we wanted to make Christmas cookies with powdered sugar frosting.  

--We watched some stand up comedy on TV, and I did some sketching.  This morning, I was delighted by the sketch that I did:

--I went to bed super early, at 7.  I hadn't gotten good sleep from Friday night to Saturday morning, so I was glad for a chance to catch up.

Thanksgiving Travel, In Process, In This Second Pandemic Year

 This time yesterday, we would have already been on the road.  In South Florida, if possible, I want to leave by 4 a.m., or at least, no later than 5 a.m.  Otherwise, it's impossible to avoid traffic delays at the very beginning.

So yesterday, we loaded the last items in the car, and off we went.  We drove and drove, through morning mists and later, the foreboding clouds that told of a cold front approaching.  We stopped, briefly, in Savannah for gas and a Taco Bell lunch.  In the past, I might have made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but the bread was moldy, and on Sunday, I didn't feel like buying another loaf.

We did not go all the way to the mountains yesterday.  Our reservation doesn't start until today.  So yesterday, we drove to South Carolina, where we met my parents, and we drove around the outskirts of the capital city, a town we've all lived in at various points.  We ate a delicious dinner at Lizards Thicket, a veggie heavy dinner that did leave us feeling weighted down.

We have some odd problems with internet connectivity.  My computer can hit the internet at the hotel, but my spouse's cannot.  He needs to teach this morning, live, from the room before we leave.  He can use my computer, if the tech support folks can reset his password, because he can't remember it.

I feel strange being here, where we have friends and family, but we're not seeing them.  That's the conundrum of our Thanksgivings:  we can't see everyone.  This year, with some of us feeling OK to gather and others not, it is even more of a conundrum.

Hopefully I will be back in January to finish my onground intensive for the spiritual direction certificate program.  I say hopefully because as we know, so much could interfere.  And then it's on to the 2nd term of seminary, as my spiritual life/career heads in a different direction.

I've gotten some grading done, in case I don't have internet connectivity for the rest of the week.  And I've downloaded what I need to work on the seminary paper that is due on Monday.

I feel like I've forgotten how to travel. I've had weak coffee, followed by weak tea, because I decided to rely on what the hotel provides.  It could be worse.