Thank you, Jackie

I don't know Jackie but she has greatly impacted my spiritual development. My friend, Annie, worked with her at one point in her life and told me bits and pieces about Jackie: she was in a miserable job with an oppressive, bullying, tyrant of a boss. She had no choice but to stay in that job. Annie would say that Jackie seemed to handle her burden so well. She'd sing her religious songs while working. It makes me think that those who sung those old traditional "negro spirituals" knew something about coping from which we can still learn.

Often when I grumble about something, I think of Jackie-- a faceless presence in my mind-- who I imagine would sweetly scoff at my "struggles." Then, I wonder "what would Jackie do" and sing out loud (if I'm alone or just have my child trapped in the car with me) or I hum. I intentionally stick to singing only religious and spiritual songs. I usually have to make up some of the words which is always worth a good laugh.

And so, I'm with my own burden, but not. Even though my feet and hands may be situated in an old, mired gully, when I sing my spirituals I am lifted out of that gully. Another part of me gets to flow to a better place.

Thank you, Jackie--- whoever or where ever you are!

breath of serenity

I imagine that God is breathing through me. I'm not breathing. God is. My body is like a sheer curtain through which God is moving in, through, and around.

It's instantaneous. I feel immediately more relaxed. I have "soft eyes."

I try to remember this mini exercise throughout the day.

Song: Come Rain or Come Shine

Come Rain or Come Shine
I’ve modified this popular song to make the lyrics sound more like a traditional spiritual. The original song was written by Harold Arlen with lyrics by Johnny Mercer. The song was written for the musical St. Louis Woman, and was first published in 1946.

God did love me like no one can love me
Come rain or come shine
High as a mountain and deep as a river
Come rain or come shine

And I guess when I met God
That it was just one of those things
Girl, don’t you forget God
But remember just to let God, just to let God

God’s gonna love me like no one did love me
Come rain or come shine
Happy together, unhappy not ever
Won’t it be fine

Day may be cloudy or sunny
I’m in or I’m out of the money
But God loves us always
God loves us rain or shine
Rain or shine

Oprah's Weight Gain & a Spiritual Lesson

I recently read an article about Oprah's recent weight gain. She was quoted as saying, "It's embarrassing . . . I know all the things I need to do [eat right, exercise, etc.]" (paraphrased).

Dear Oprah,
Guess what? Some problems exist despite what we know and despite our best ambitions. Contrary to our cultural mantra that we "can accomplish anything we set our minds to," some areas of our lives are not fixed by sheer will power. This is the spiritual lesson.

It may be a harder lesson to learn for an Oprah Winfrey or Tom Cruise of the world-- that is, for those many people who seem to view their successes as having come about due to their own, personal will power, drive, and ambition (all of which, I believe, a person is born with to a great degree).

Sometimes we have to accept there are things we cannot change (an oft neglected part of the Serenity Prayer).

Other times, the problem is that we fail to accept the up-and-down cycles of life. Instead, we view our "down times" as moments in which we must fight our way through. However, "what we resist will only persist" (A Course in Miracles, paraphrased). We fight "it" and "it" just digs in its heels. During these moments, a gentler, more spiritual way of coping is to acknowledge, "Ah, yes, this is my weak spot, my down cycle, and I will observe it and let it ride out its course, managing but not fighting it, until the eventual upswing occurs again."

my favorite spiritual mantra

Be still

and know

the joyous Freedom

of belonging in God.

Uncurable Wounds

Sometimes my wounds are dormant. Sometimes they rear their ugly heads. Some of my wounds are minor and some quite rotten. When they're active, eruptive like a seething volcano, I battle them with blood, sweat, and lots of tears of frustration because they never fully go away. I cry out that I can't cure them! Why, oh WHY does the Divine not help me finally cure these old sources of soul torture?

And then a thought comes-- a whisper of an answer: Perhaps these ugly wounds are not meant to be cured.

If these wounds are kept alive, I am rendered humble. I must face that I am utterly human, flawed, no better than anyone else.

Groupees of the Sacred Feminine Held Hostage

Well, if there were ever a blog entry that showcased my edginess, here it is. I'd like to apologize in advance, but it would be insincere. You see, I have a bone to pick. (Uh-oh, fasten your seat belts; here it comes . . .).

As you can tell by the entire point of this blog, my own spiritual platform is to advocate for a "real" spirituality, one that both admits and allows for warts, wrinkles, and half-baked commitments, yet still strives for spiritual betterment. If my version of spiritual development were a graph it wouldn't be a straight line shooting upwards, it would look more like a heart monitor's spikes: up, down, but still progressing however slightly. Spiritual perfectionists need not apply. And this brings me to (drum roll, please):

The very unique group of usually Christian women who are into "The Sacred Feminine." While there are outliers and exceptions, I too often have experienced that these women bother me. There, I said it. (Where is the lightning bolt that will now strike me down)? And so, I have decided to hold them virtually hostage until they cave to my list of mischievous demands:

1. Speak normally --not in a whispery voice as if you are the heroine of a Victorian novel who is in love with your own words.

2. Love womankind without demanding that everyone massage each other's feet or meet to dance in the moonlight topless.

3. Find new phrases and metaphors that don't involve feathers, quilts, or being vivifed and renewed.

4. Confess something really naughty, not just stealing a cupcake.

5. And for Pete's sake, embrace a bit of bawdy passion. For example, instead of always using the clinical term for genitalia, just call it a "pecker!"

I will hold this group virtually hostage until these demands are met and until they engage in rip roaring laughter in which most wind up peeing in their pants.

How did women's spirituality become a dour, academic, perfectionistic, and overly mature thing? Being in the flow of uninhibited, childlike joy is my kind of Sacred Feminine spirituality.