Create with Spirit

Walking the Talk

   

This posting was originally published in my monthly column on The Chaplaincy Institute (ChI)'s website which can be found here: http://www.chaplaincyinstitute.org/bio/taylor 

As I experienced the wild frenzy of media coverage and discussion around this year’s powerful and important election, I was struck by how important it is to walk carefully and truthfully as an Interfaith Minister.

Fortunately, I live a very diverse life, and I am in community and relationship with a variety of different people. As the heat turned up during this election, I started to hear how people really felt. Their morals, religious beliefs and ethical ideas came more often in conversation, blogs and e-mails.

Sometimes I was surprised at the things I heard or read. The majority of the time, I could easily respect those who had different ideas from my own. I could see why some women resonated with Sarah Palin or thought that offshore drilling in Alaska was a good idea, even though I didn’t agree with them. I could hear the fear behind the words of a woman who refused to vote for Barack Obama because he was a black man. It made me sad, more than angry.

My most challenging moment arose when I encountered the first of my (many) acquaintances who planned to vote “yes” on California’s Proposition 8. For those who don’t know, this most recent election included a proposition that proposed to eliminate the rights of same-sex couples to marry in California. In May 2008, the California Supreme Court ruled that statutes that limit marriage to a relationship between a man and a woman violates the equal protection clause of the California Constitution. As a result of that ruling, same sex marriage was recognized as valid and legal in California. Proposition 8 (which passed by only 4%) now means the legality of all those marriages is in question.

This past summer, I was able to officiate at four same-sex wedding ceremonies. In some cases, the couple had been together over 10 years. Several couples had a child together. Each ceremony was incredibly full of love and celebration. Everyone present was so joyous that these couples, who up until this summer have legally been treated as second-class citizens, were now being treated equally and were able to bless and legalize their unions under the authority of the state of California.

In one ceremony, we included the "jumping of the broom" ceremony. The broom was tied with ribbons of blessing for the couple. [see photo] This ritual of jumping the broom has been used by both African-American slaves and Roma (also known as gypsies) to honor life commitments and marriage ceremonies for hundreds of years. Both groups of people were also not recognized as equal human beings in their culture and societies. This particular couple decided, along with vows and their ring exchange, to jump the broom in honor of the decades that they were not allowed to marry each other with the legal recognition of our state.

Here is a quote from my sermon about the broom, from the ceremony:

Jumping the broom is a tradition that was started in cultures in which certain groups of people, were not allowed to legally marry, due to ignorance, discrimination and cruelty.

Joyfully, today’s ceremony is legal in the state of California, and [our couple] also wanted to honor the fact that this very act of uniting together in legal matrimony has been illegal for so long. This jumping of the broom, honors those 9 years spent together, and the commitment they have already made, as well as honoring this delightful day when all of you can witness them in their holy promise to each other.

It breaks my heart to hear that this ceremony and all the other lesbian/gay ceremonies that have been performed this year, are no longer legal.

Many of the people I spoke to, who decided to vote “yes” on Prop. 8, did it for religious reasons. Their scripture, pastor, and/or church leaders told them that marriage should only be between a man and a woman.

This whole experience lead me to this question: What is the role of a spiritual leader when it comes to political decisions?

As an Interfaith Minister, I feel strongly that all people have a right to express their faith, exercise their right to worship, and talk about it anywhere and any way that they like. In fact, I think it is essential that those who practice an Interfaith life (whatever that may look like) should invite dialogue between faiths and hold that space for others who may have a hard time hearing views that are different from their own.

I am also angered that someone’s spiritual faith could lead to actions that alter a state’s constitution to deprive a group of people of legal rights. This is the first time in the history of our state's constitution that a human being’s rights were taken away. “Separate but equal” has been used before, with segregation in the South. We have finally abolished that ridiculous paradigm, only to re-enforce it in a different way. Whether you are gay/lesbian or not, you are hurt by this attack on civil rights.

I realize that I am a spiritual leader who is expressing her political views. I would never tell someone how to vote. I always tell everyone to vote with their hearts.  But is there a difference between my speaking up to oppose Prop. 8 and the pastor who tells his flock to vote “yes”? I currently do not have an answer to this question.

On the one hand, I believe that religion and politics should stay separate. It is what this country was founded on. Our country is far too diverse for any one faith to hold us all. That is, in fact, why I decided to become an Interfaith minister.

On the other hand, civil rights are being violated by this ruling. As a spiritual person, shouldn’t I fight for what I believe in and help make this a better world for all? I am not basing my views on any written testament; I am basing it on what feels right and true in my heart, as a loving human being. Yet is that enough of a difference?

I am still sitting with this important discernment. I am thankful to have such a diverse group of friends, family, co-workers and community, through which I can be exposed to new ideas and new ways of thinking. It keeps me good and honest, as an Interfaith minister, to hear and understand ways of thinking that I not only don’t practice but don’t agree with either.

I have had many spirited dialogues in-person and on-line with people who do not agree with me. I try to always speak from my heart, use “I statements”, and be respectful of the other person’s views. It is a powerful and important role, to hold the space in these dialogues and help others understand that we cannot force our wills onto others. We must listen in the same way that we wish to be heard, hopefully finding common ground somewhere in the middle.

No matter what your point of view is, I ask of everyone reading this today to hold that sacred space in your dialogues and communications. Such deep and respectful listening can transform our world.

 

          

                  

 

Spiritual Weightlifting

This posting was originally published in my monthly column on The Chaplaincy Institute (ChI)'s website which can be found here: http://www.chaplaincyinstitute.org/bio/taylor 

Two years ago my husband convinced me to join his small, weightlifting gym. It took quite a lot to convince me that I wasn’t going to be met with the same oppression I have met at other gyms and fitness centers.

I am a very big, curvy woman. Every time I have tried to workout in a public facility, I have been met with a lot of assumptions: I want to lose weight, I have no strength, I am lazy and this is first time I’ve done anything active in my life, etc. I cannot tell you how many times I have been walking on a treadmill and some has come up to me and said, “You’ve been walking on that treadmill for 30 minutes! Good for you!” Would those people say that to a skinny person? No, they would not.

Needless to say, I was a bit gun-shy when I walked into this new gym. Not only was it close quarters; it was also full of weightlifters who were grunting and groaning and dropping weights loudly on the floor.

I have come to love those sounds, and now I grunt and drop weights loudly on the floor myself. In fact, it has become a ritual—an essential part of my life. I am dedicated to my weightlifting practice for my strength and growth, much like a spiritual practice.

At the gym I experience a deep sense of community, encouragement and support. It doesn’t matter what size I am, what my political beliefs are, or what my background is. The proverbial “little old lady” lifting her 8 lb. weights, or my husband, lifting almost 300 lbs. over his head, are both celebrated equally. All achievements and transformations of strength and fitness are celebrated exactly the same, much the way an ideal minister or spiritual companion meets each person where they are on their journey—celebrating the triumphs and having compassion for the moments of disappointment and frustration.

It wasn’t until another lifter and myself started joking about how this gym had become our “church,” that I realized what a spiritual practice weightlifting had become for me. I realized that at this point in my life, this eclectic group of weightlifters had become my spiritual community. When I walk into the gym, the community (or “congregation”) greets me. People ask me how my life is going. They remember things about me, and I feel seen and cared for.

Just as I had felt lost and unwelcome at the bigger more impersonal gyms, I also have felt lost and unwelcome in the more organized, religious communities I have visited as a seeker, hoping to find my spiritual home. Just as assumptions were made about who I am and what I want from a gym or fitness program (based solely on how I look), so too have religious communities made erroneous assumptions about me and my spiritual life, based solely on the fact that I am a woman, or was raised by a Unitarian Minister father, or some other “surface” projection. Just as the chart that claims I am obese does not take into account the fact that I have very strong (and heavy!) muscles, so too does the dogma of most organized religion not take into account that my interpretation of the Divine does not include punishment, authority or sin.

In my weightlifting community, I feel seen, heard and appreciated. I am pushed to transform and grow, both on the inside and the outside—and as a member of the community, I also encourage others to transform and grow. We practice together on a regular basis. If that doesn’t define a spiritual community, what does?

That same week, I read an article in the Presence, the publication for Spiritual Directors International, that included an article about spotting. Spotting, in weightlifting terminology, is the practice of standing near a lifter when they lift a very heavy weight, in case they need help. In the article, spotting was used as a metaphor for spiritual direction. I felt that my hunch had been confirmed when I read that article! Spotting is very much like spiritual direction. We are companions and witnesses to each other, we are there to help if it is needed, and we step back and witness in silence when the work is being done without our help.

Any regularly undertaken activity that reliably generates greater conscious awareness and understanding of the deepest sources, patterns of meaning, and values in my life (and in the lives of others) is a spiritual practice. Any activity that increases the experience of the ultimate worth of my self, of others, and of life itself, is generating an increased, felt sense of the Divine—and so is, by definition, a spiritual discipline.

When I lift my weights, I am pushing myself each time I lift that bar. I am tracking my progression, while bringing my whole self to that moment. It is amazing how important a role the mind and spirit play in weightlifting and other physical acts of strength and fitness. I must quiet my mind, and yet at the same time, I have to stay actively awake and present. I cannot “check out” they way I would in watching a movie or looking out the window. This active state of mind is similar to the yogic practice, or Buddhist meditation, or prayer. It is working both my inner consciousness and my outer body of muscles and bone. I also put deep trust and faith in God that I will be “spotted,” both by a physical person I am working out with and by God herself, guiding my intuition and knowing when a weight is too heavy for me that day.

All of our paths are unique and special. We are all seekers in some way, and we are all trying to find the spiritual community where we belong. I hope that after reading this article, you too will be able to open up your mind and see other ways to be spiritual in your life that you may not have noticed before.

I am so thankful that God has lead me on this interesting and surprising path!

May you always know your strength, both inner and outer.

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To see a video of me snatching 50 kilograms (110 pounds), click here:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=P9G6XzVqVK0&feature=PlayList&p=7CA7F00168B49A25&...

A Church of Her Own

I just received my copy of the wonderful new book A Church of Her Own: What Happens When a Woman Takes the Pulpit by Sarah Sentilles.

First, a disclaimer - I was interviewed for this book and a big part of my spiritual story are highlighted in the chapter entitled Minister (n.) vs. Minister (v.), along with The Most Esteemed Callie Janoff, who co-created the Church of Craft with me.

I've been reading the book and it's a wonderful read. Sarah's writing style is very accessible - almost like I'm getting to peek into her journal and read all her intimate thoughts about her own path of ministry and spiritual service.

The layout of the book is wonderful. We follow Sarah's journey as she feels the call to ministry and discovers a lot of difficult challenges along the way. As we follow Sarah's journey, we also get to read the stories of many other women who have also hit challenges on their ministry paths. Some of the stories brought tears to my eyes, as I recognized the frustrating circumstances that these powerful, visionary women ran into when they tried to own their own power in a male-dominated world.

I feel that the deeper message of the book is incredibly powerful. A quote from the introductory chapter explains it well:

The problems faced by women ministers cannot be dismissed as "women's" problems. They belong to all of us, whether you have a female minister in your church or not, whether you attend church or not, whether you think your congregation is sexist or not, even whether you are Christian or not. None of us - even those of us outside the church - is exempt from the reverberations of religious institutions' failings. Churches' treatment of women and women's reactions to this treatment are symptoms of a larger problem, indicative of the broader ways the church needs to change. What we do and say and believe in church is connected to what we do and say an believe in our everyday lives. Our theology is linked to the state of the world - to war and poverty and environmental destruction and reckless consumerism - and it is time that we held ourselves accountable.

I truly think these stories would resonate with other women who have run into inherent sexism on their paths as well. It's an inspiring read and it certainly has helped me feel less alone on my path. It would also be an excellent read for any man that wants to understand the myriad ways that sexism can manifest in our culture.

The interviews are with women from all different faith backgrounds, including some wild, Interfaith revolutionary spiritual leaders like Callie and myself! I have to say, I was reading the book in a cafe and I got so many looks! The cover is quite austere - with a circle of golden crosses surrounding one lone female symbol, but don't let that scare you off from reading this wonderful book.  It is most definitely for people of all spiritual paths who are interested in understanding more deeply the role that sexism plays in our society and how we can transform our culture to a more encompassing and equal experience.

P.S. There's another great review of this book on the wonderful blog Viva La Feminista!

Creating Sacred Space

This posting was originally published in my monthly column on The Chaplaincy Institute (ChI)'s website which can be found here: http://www.chaplaincyinstitute.org/pages/newsletter.html

Why do we need sacred space? It’s simple. We need a way (a place, a process) to gently and easily reconnect with the spiritual core of being human, to be touched "where we live" on a regular basis by that divine bit of fire.

—Kathryn L. Robyn, in Spiritual Housecleaning

Being an independent minister with no “home church” to call my own, I get creative with making spaces to serve and practice my ministry of creativity, dreamwork and healing.

When I moved to Petaluma from San Francisco, I reluctantly gave up my very cheap and beautiful shared office space. I needed somewhere to see clients and hold my dream groups, so I decided to use my new home as an office to see clients in.

I was worried about doing this for many reasons. I wanted my space to be private, and opening up my home to lots of different people seemed invasive and overwhelming. And what about the cleaning?! I’m not a dirty person, but I’ve been known to let dishes sit for a couple of days, and sometimes I’m not so quick on the disposal of old cat litter.

On the day when my first client was scheduled to come to the house, my husband and I woke up early and begin the daunting task of making our home “spotless.” I was so afraid I would overlook something and my visitors would walk in, see that missed tumbleweed of cat hair on the floor, and walk right out, horrified.

As the process of cleaning our home began, I was completely shocked to discover that I was actually enjoying myself. Thankfully, I have a wonderful partner who was completely on board with the idea of making our home beautiful and clean to welcome in my new clients.

I realized in this process that my husband and I were creating sacred space — the same way volunteers come to their church to oil the old wooden pews, and the same way a Buddhist monk cleans the floor of the temple or shrine. Who says my home is not a sacred space also? It is a sanctuary and place of healing, both for my husband and me, and for my clients.

As I got down into the nooks and crannies of my home, I discovered piles of dust and cat hair I didn’t know were there. Instead of being disgusted or upset by this, I felt grateful that I had discovered this “undiscovered” place in my home, and could now clean this neglected space and make it fresh and new again.

This process of “deep cleaning” reminds me so much of my own spiritual practice, as I walk my path of healing and transformation. I have committed to going deeper and to understanding my shadow places, so that I can see what is “dirtying” up my energy body and find a way to clean it out and transform it into something different and more nurturing.

This thorough housecleaning has now become a ritual for us, as I see clients at least once a week in my home. It’s also a meditative time for me, where I think about my past week and my ministry and what I would like to do in this life. With this work, I am tending to my temple.

In the beginning I had some concern that I wouldn’t get my home back after meeting with clients, but this has not turned out to be the case. The act of cleaning and preparing for them shifts the energy of the house — I move the chairs around and create a new space that is just for when clients come visit, or I put the chairs in a circle for group work. First I create a sacred container; then when the session or group is over, I put the furniture back the way it was, burn a little sage, and I have my home space back.

I also create altars specifically for client sessions. Often I use a statue of the Buddha (being an Interfaith Minister, I feel comfortable with a variety of icons from various faith traditions) who holds a small candle in his lap. Sometimes I have fresh flowers. Sometimes I have crystals that my husband has blessed in his healing work.

I create special altars for the groups I facilitate as well.

 

These often include little “gifts” or offerings I have prepared, or a book I would like to read from. I always include my “circle of friends” candleholder, which honors the way we have all come together to support each other. The candle at the center honors the role that Spirit plays in our gathering.

I also have the honor of performing wedding ceremonies; when I meet with couples to prepare and do pre-wedding consultations, I make an altar as well.

This includes two statues that were given to my husband and I when we were preparing for our own wedding. Sometimes I wrap the two statues together with the beaded stole I crafted for my ordination. I always try to include a ripe fruit or vegetable, to honor the growth and nourishment of being in a love partnership.

In the process of cleaning and preparing my sacred space, the whole house also becomes like an altar. I try to pay attention to each object and honor all the objects in my house. Those who have been in my home know that I have A LOT of things! I have many sacred objects, from many different faith traditions. I frequently re-arrange objects and make new altars and spaces. That includes the little statues in the bathroom and on top of the television. It keeps my home alive and the energy moving instead of getting stuck and stagnant.

Making and re-making altars is a powerful way to create sacred space. I think Eleanor Coppola, wife of Francis and mother of Sophia, explains the process well in the wonderful book Altars & Icons:

...there’s also something very soothing in just placing objects, shifting their position, or refolding the fabric, making the square a little smaller or a little larger. It satisfies some artistic part of myself.

Re-connecting with our altars helps keep our home/office/space alive and fluid. It is a way to honor visions and ideas in a tangible form.

Altars don’t just have to be for meditation. Janet Carter, from the same book:

Even when I’m not sitting in front of it, my altar is working because these particular objects are activated by my intent. It’s up to me to remember that the altar is here, to sit with it and take it in, not with my mind but with my heart and body. The altar brings these three together.

Seeing my home through my clients’ eyes is a powerful experience. Many of them see it as an oasis. I live on four acres in a home with high ceilings and large windows. Yet I sometimes get stuck in the mundane realities of my home, taking it for granted and overlooking its beauty. My clients remind me every week that I live in a beautiful place that they experience as a healing oasis, a place where they can take a break and step back into the deep waters of their spiritual life.

Yes, there have been times when the dishes didn’t get done before a client arrived. And you know what... they didn’t even notice. Or if they did, it didn’t take away from the work we did together that day.

Tending to my space and keeping it clean and beautiful helps me stay in touch with the greater Spirit. Sacred space can be created anywhere! I often carry “altar kits” in my car, in case I am called to minister to someone out in the world. A simple blanket, a small statue, some wildflowers picked by the side of the road, can come together to make a beautiful space for healing and transformation.

How do you make sacred space?

BOOKS:

Altars & Icons: Sacred Spaces in Everyday Life, by Jean McMann  (Chronicle Books, 1998)

Altars of Power & Grace: Create the Life you Desire, by Robin & Michael Mastro  (Balanced Books, 2004)

Beautiful Necessity: The Art & Meaning of Women’s Altars, by Kay Turner  (Thames & Hudson, 1998)

Spiritual Housecleaning: Healing the Space within by Beautifying the Space Around You , by Kathryn L. Robyn  (New Harbinger Publications, Inc., 2001)

Dreams as Personal Myths

This posting was originally published in my monthly column on The Chaplaincy Institute (ChI)'s website which can be found here: http://www.chaplaincyinstitute.org/pages/newsletter.html

While facilitating my Dream Art Group, I have been spending a lot of time thinking about Spirit as it works in our dream lives and in the act of art-making as a catalyst. Making art can be a way to bring the world of dreams and the world of the waking life together for deeper understanding and transformation in our lives.

Dreams provide us with our own personal myths, and in mythology, fact and fiction form a finely woven fabric of story. A myth is neither only fact nor only fiction. Dreams also belong in this middle realm, as they fall between imaginal and consensual reality.

When we encounter the fantasy elements within our dreams, often we dismiss such dreams as unhelpful. Yet we are just as quick to dismiss “unimaginative” dreams because they have no fantasy elements. Both positions are extreme and exclude the middle realm. Even the most ordinary dream can open a wide window onto a field of workable symbols and images.

When we enter a dream and work its images through an art-making process, we are embodying the dream in a whole new way. It is very similar to Fritz Perls’ Gestalt work with dream images and symbols:

"Instead of telling the dream as if it were a story in the past, act it out in the present, so that it becomes a part of yourself, so that you are really involved. … If you understand the meaning of … some bit of a dream, each time you translate an ‘it’ into an ‘I’, you increase in vitality and in your potential.” (Perls, Ego, Hunger & Aggression 1969, pp. 68-70)

When we take a dream image and bring it into ourselves, letting it guide our hands and shift our perception, a new direction is given and a new path is discovered. When we pick up a crayon or a paintbrush and begin to experience the feeling of the dream as we work, our own “personal mythology” begins to show itself.

The personal symbols appearing in our dreams are specific only to us. Just as no one can tell us what our dream means, so no one can tell us what the images and symbols in our dreams and our art mean. To one person, a snake can symbolize female power, while to another it can represent the feeling of being fake or sneaky. Thus working with powerful dream symbols in art-making is a direct way to discover our own mythology, and through doing this, we understand ourselves in a much deeper way.

Shortly before his death, Joseph Campbell spoke of the bliss of the mythologically-inspired life—where mythology is lived as layer upon layer of fluid metaphor, leading the self to the exalted state of being transparent to the transcendent.

It is important to remember that this process is not about illustrating, although there are many wonderful artists who do this kind of work. Making Dream Art is more about connecting to the energy of the dream. Through this process, the symbols present themselves.

When getting started in making Dream Art, two mediums are very easy and accessible. One is keeping a dream journal; the other is making collages. Both are easy to do (they do not require any technical training or special materials) and can be done relatively quickly. Combining the two is especially powerful!

In addition to being a wonderful way to track all the dreams we have, keeping a dream journal is a great tool to refer to when making dream art. Upon waking, I write the dream down in a narrative form, using the present tense so I don’t miss any details. Then, when I am ready to be more involved and delve into the deeper space of making art, I have my dream journal at the ready, full of stories and ideas. When I begin creating, I try to let go of any intention to “duplicate” anything in the dream. Sometimes when I have finished writing down the dream, I daydream while doodling on the same page. I am always amazed at how beautiful these images can look!

I am That Too by Tristy Taylor

I am Everything by Tristy Taylor

When collaging with a dream, a great place to start is to sit down with a pile of magazines (make sure you have a variety, not just fashion magazines or just science magazines) and other good sources for images, like catalogs and old textbooks. Look through them and tear out anything that strikes you—good or bad. (When I have a nice big pile, I like to make categories like “Monsters”, “Animals”, “Women”, “Fire,” etc.) Then sit down with the dream and identify what stands out for you emotionally. Was it a scary dream? Did it feel spiritual and calming? Enter that emotional space as completely as you can, then take some heavy paper (like card stock or poster board) and start laying out images. It is amazing what can show up in this process!

Inspired by Seena B. Frost’s SoulCollage cards, I worked with my dreams to create my own deck of personal mythology cards.

The Ancestors

The Call

The Father

The Preacher

All of these cards echo dreams that I have remembered. Through the process of working these dreams through art, I have had amazing insights about myself, my patterns, and my deep beliefs.

I hope you are inspired to make some art with your dreams! I’d love to hear and share in your experience. Feel free to e-mail me at tristy@createwithspirit.com.

Resource Books

1. The Creative Journal: The Art of Finding Yourself, by Lucia Capacchione, Ph.D. (New Page Books, 2002)
   
   
2. Soul Collage: An Intuitive Collage Process for Individuals & Grownups, by Seena B. Frost (Hanford Mead Publishers, 2001)
   
   
3. The Art of Dreaming: A Creativity Toolbox for Dreamers, by Jill Mellick (Conari Press, 2001)
   
   
4. Dreaming with Open Eyes: The Shamanic Spirit in 20th Century Art & Culture, by Michael Tucker (Aquarian & Harper Press, 1992)

Crisis of Faith

This posting was originally published in my monthly column on The Chaplaincy Institute (ChI)'s website which can be found here: http://www.chaplaincyinstitute.org/pages/newsletter.html

I can safely say that the month of March 2007 was the hardest, most painful month I have ever experienced in this lifetime. I have always been a person with pretty unshakable faith in the good of the world. I firmly believed that everything happens for a reason and that there is a gift in every experience, no matter how painful. But this experience really pushed me to the edge of my faith. What is the gift in this painful, frightening experience?

On March 4, 2007, I woke with excruciating pain in my lower abdomen. My husband and I had just recently found out that we were pregnant, after trying for almost two years. My heart filled with fear that something might be wrong with the pregnancy. As I doubled over in pain, I couldn’t believe the amount of pain the human body could withstand. As if on cue, I passed out cold, showing that the body does have a limit to the amount of pain it can withstand.

In that moment, I was in a beautiful field of grass, lying on my back with the sun on my face. I felt so good. My husband was lying next to me, looking at me the way he does when he is about say something goofy and sweet and romantic. “I like it here,” I thought. I had completely forgotten the pain I was in right before I passed out.

I awoke on the cold, bathroom floor with my head pounding from where I slammed it against the wall when I passed out. I crawled back to the bedroom, because every time I tried to get up, I passed out again. I woke my husband up (which took some time!) and told him that something was terribly wrong. After speaking to the advice nurse, we were soon in the car, driving to the emergency room.

The next 24 hours passed in a blur of pain and morphine and ultrasounds and lots of poking and prodding and pricking of my arms and body. The doctors on call weren’t sure how many weeks I was with child. I was right at that critical edge between being able to see the embryo and not being able to see it. If I was four weeks, there was nothing to see, but if I was six weeks, and they couldn’t see the embryo, then it was growing in a place it should not be.

Although the ER doctor dismissed my condition as “morning sickness,” and discharged me, my body wasn’t going to stand for that...literally! Every time I tried to get up and put my clothes back on, I would pass out. Finally, my blood work came back from the lab and showed that I was indeed six and half weeks pregnant. The embryo growing in my body should have been easy to see on the scan, but that little tiny apple seed of cells was nowhere to be found.

This told the doctors that something was terribly wrong, so they immediately readmitted me. I was informed that I had a tubal pregnancy. This occurs when the fertilized egg from the ovary does not implant itself normally in the uterus. Instead, the egg develops in the fallopian tube, one of the two tubes that transport the egg from the ovary to the uterus. When this happens, the embryo cannot develop into a fetus.

photo source: http://www.femalehealthmadesimple.com/ECTOPIC_PREGNANCY.html
click photo to see more photos

I was quickly prepped for surgery. I was frightened and heartbroken that this new life that was growing inside me had to be terminated. This was the first time I had been in surgery since I got my tonsils out when I was 19 years old.

When I awoke, I was surrounded by people I loved and cared about. The looks on their faces told me that things did not go well. I found out upon awakening, as I slowly came off the anesthetic and painkillers, that when they looked inside my body, they discovered that the tube had ruptured. This meant that they had to cut open my abdomen and take the entire tube out—a serious complication of a tubal, (also called ectopic) pregnancy. When hemorrhaging (severe bleeding) occurs within the abdomen, it can be extremely dangerous because a large artery runs on the outside of each fallopian tube. One of these arteries did rupture, causing me to bleed severely; I lost over 3 pints of blood.

During recovery I developed a serious infection in my incision; this often occurs in emergency surgery, when the patient cannot be prepped properly. As my husband rushed me back to the emergency room for a second time, I cried in the deepest of despair. Even though the hospital saved my life, it hurt my heart and soul so deeply to be going back to this place of cold metal and empty walls.

During both hospitalizations I was kept on the maternity ward, where I was surrounded by newborn babies. Nurses would continuously call me “mom,” thinking I had just given birth. I cried out at night, screaming at God. “Why are you putting me through this? What possible good can come out of so much pain?”

Although I cannot answer these questions completely, I have in fact experienced some miracles through this whole ordeal. One of the most amazing gifts is feeling even more deeply how much my husband loves and cares for me. He has been truly amazing through this journey. I was thankful for my husband even before this happened, and I didn’t think I was capable of loving or appreciating him more—but I am and I do. I wish I could nominate him for the Nobel Prize for Loving Husband! Thank you Justin!

Coming through this experience has also put many things in my life into perspective. We live in an extraordinary time. In most other times and places, I definitely would have died. I am so thankful and amazed to be alive. I had excellent doctors who made sure that I lived through the emergency surgery they had to give me. Technology, skill, and knowledge saved my life. When I experience moments of despair, I remember that fact. When I feel that my life is worthless and full of pain, I remember that these amazing doctors fought for my life. My husband, parents and friends fought for my life by caring for me and loving me unconditionally.

My perspective has shifted in all parts of my life. I feel so thankful now when I walk outside and feel the sun on my face, or cuddle up with my cat and listen to him purr, feeling the warmth of his belly against my face. These simple experiences are all gifts.

Just like most people, I have to work to bring in money. Much of my work is focused on my ministry and I love it, but there are parts of my work that feel a little more disconnected. After having to miss over a month of work, I am realizing what I miss and what I don’t. My life is far too precious to be spending doing work that doesn’t feed my soul and inspire me. I have made a deep promise to myself that when I am strong enough to go back to work, I will only do work that feeds me and makes me feel whole.

There is still so much healing for me to do. My husband and I have begun dealing with the grief of losing our pregnancy. As I sit with the loss of this life inside me, I wonder: was it even a life? At six and half weeks, the heart had just formed and was starting to beat. The embryo was about the size of an apple seed and growing rapidly. The umbilical cord was developed. The eyes and ears were starting to form as well as an opening for the mouth. The heart had begun to pump blood and most of the other organs were well under construction. Buds were forming on the body to become arms and legs.

Is this life? Or was this embryo inside me still just a mass of cells? Or was it both? Did this little life have a soul? Or does that come later? Why did this life come to me, and leave so quickly? I have heard many different theories, as I have asked these questions of my friends. Some say that instead of a baby I had “an angel.” Others say that some souls can only come for a limited time and that I somehow “signed up” unknowingly to host one of these souls. I actually don’t have any “answers”, and my feelings are mixed, but I continue to work with these ideas and thoughts and feelings as I find my way to my own truth.

I also continue the journey through my “crisis of faith.” Amazingly enough, I find that as my body heals, my spirit is healing as well. I find that I still have faith in the good of the world. I still have faith that experience has more gifts to give me than I can even imagine. And I still believe that God loves me. I’m amazed that I can feel this, when there was so much pain and anger (which is still very present!).

I am learning so much about patience and loving myself through this healing process. It is so easy for me to want to rush this experience...to hurry up and get “back to normal.” But I will never be “normal”—not in the sense of being the person I was before. This experience has changed me, and I will never, ever forget it.

I have only just begun to make art around this experience. My energy level is still quite low (not to mention the difficulty of sitting up for long periods of time), so I have just started to do some drawing and writing in my journal. I know that the art will come in time.

I welcome your prayers of healing, and I would love to hear from any and all of you who have gone through similar experiences. What was your healing process like? How did your spiritual life change?

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Books:

“Grief Unseen: Healing Pregnancy Loss Through the Arts”  by Laura Seftel

“Unspeakable Losses: Healing From Miscarriage, Abortion, And Other Pregnancy Loss”  by Kim Kluger-Bell

“Trying Again: A Guide to Pregnancy After Miscarriage, Stillbirth, and Infant Loss” by Ann Douglas

Embodying the Diety

This posting was originally published in my monthly column on The Chaplaincy Institute (ChI)'s website which can be found here: http://www.chaplaincyinstitute.org/pages/newsletter.html.

By the time I was ordained at ChI, I was very clear about my ministry and what I have to offer my fellow human beings on this earth. I know for myself, and others, that creating / making, can be a spiritual practice. It certainly is for me. That is why I co-created the Church of Craft (www.churchofcraft.org), in which congregants meet once a month to create together in community. It started in October 2000; now there are churches all over the world.

Along with the Church of Craft, I have my own spiritual practice of art-making which is closely connected to my dream life. I’d love to share one of those experiences with you.

In 2002, I had been doing a lot of work with my female power and understanding the creative and destructive force of passion and anger. On the night of Imbolc (a holiday from the oldest times about turning obstacles into openings) I had a dream that I titled “Craft Kali.”

I am sitting in a waiting room with a bunch of other people, waiting to be born. There are lots of good magazines to read and wonderful music playing on the speakers. All of a sudden, the Hindu Goddess Kali’s voice reverberates through my head as she tells all of us that it is time to be born. We all get up and form a line at a curtained entrance. When it is my turn, I go through the curtain and slide down a long, curving slide. The walls are lined with burgundy felt. As I slide down Kali’s birth canal, I think how crafty she is to use felt on the walls of her womb! It feels good against my hands as I slide down, and I’m not so worried about what will meet me on the other side. I am born on my parent’s street, the street I grew up on in waking life. On the corner is a large Victorian house that I often dream about. There are no doors but many windows, and I peer inside at all the beautiful art nouveau furniture and wonder how I can get inside. Kali’s voice booms through my head again, telling me that this is my ministry and I need to get to work. I am nervous and worried about this prospect, yet I also feel elated and excited.

On awakening, I really felt the need to connect with the deity Kali, which at the time I knew very little about, and understand a bit more about why she might be appearing in my dreams.

Whenever I begin the process of making art with my dreams or with spirit, I start with the most accessible feeling. In this situation, it was the feeling of the felt (and there certainly is a play on words there, isn’t there?) as I was being born. I went to the fabric store and bought an array of red and burgundy felt—the store was having a sale on felt and I brought home bags of it for less than $10.

Once I got home, I spread the felt out on my craft table and there it sat for about a month. Every time I sat at my table, I would stroke the felt and remember the dream, but nothing more came to me. At the time, I was taking Art & Symbolic Process with Charles Miedinski (R.I.P.) at John F. Kennedy University. The symbol I was working with was “the vessel.” Some of the burgundy felt became a vaginally-shaped vessel covered in photos of myself as I grew from a girl to a woman. This project brought up a lot a lot for me around my body as vessel, and what I chose to put in it, and what was put into it against my will.

Through this transformative process, I had another dream. This dream was very direct: I woke up hearing Kali’s voice in my head again, asking me to let her enter my body. Needless to say, this scared me a bit, as she is typically depicted with a string of severed heads around her neck! She is the creator, but she is also the destroyer, and that aspect of my femaleness frightened me.

Fortunately, I had some wonderful spiritual artist friends who immediately suggested that I do a full-body, plaster cast of myself as Kali. They helped me, and it became a very intense, all-day ritual as we cast my entire body—including two versions of my arms and legs holding different positions and mudras. While making the cast, we burned incense and played bhajans to Kali. It was powerful! We were three powerful women, making art and collaborating with this powerful deity energy for 8 hours straight. We were all shaking with the energy by the end of the day.

I felt as if I was “dancing in the flames.” As discussed in Marion Woodman & Elinor Dickson’s wonderful book Dancing in the Flames: The Dark Goddess in the Transformation of Consciousness: “Feminine consciousness is the transformative energy that can contain the energies of matter and, through the fire of love, connect them to the energies of the soul.” I was allowing my own fiery passion to dance through my body, letting it purify, destroy and create inside of me.

I ended up showing this body cast in several shows around the Bay Area. At each opening, I was asked, “Aren’t you embarrassed to have your naked body on display?” But when I looked at this amazing work of art, all I saw was the fierce, feminine power of Kali-Ma being embodied in my own flesh, and that felt extremely powerful and wonderful! In fact, it was quite a transformation for me to show my body in this way, since I have struggled with body issues from the time I was about 8 years old.

Seeing Kali-Ma in my body form helped me to see my own body as a holy vessel. Since that experience, my body image has greatly improved. I am not so hard myself when I look in the mirror. I learned how to love myself in a new way. Through that transformation, I opened myself up to love and intimacy, and ended up meeting the most wonderful man in the world, and marrying him! Before creating this piece, I wasn’t capable of opening myself to the kind of intense, deep love that a true marriage has to be.

I continue to do artwork like this, working intimately with my spiritual practice and the spirits and deities that guide me. I look forward to sharing more experiences and ideas with you in future columns!

References

Dancing in the Flames: The Dark Goddess in the Transformation of Consciousness by Marion Woodman.

Singing to the Goddess: Poems to Kali & Uma from Bengal, by Rachel Fell McDermott.

The Dreaming Way: Dreamwork and Art for Remembering and Recovery, by Patricia Reis & Susan Snow.