Tag: listening

Presence/Poetry

/ Lanae / Leave a comment Featured

I haven’t forgotten I have a blog, nor have I forgotten the joy weaving words together brings me, but I have been seeking to discern where and how writing fits into this full to the brim season of my life – the career season, I guess! I still, and always will, consider writing as one of my first loves and one of my deepest callings. Sometimes, though, it’s been a neglected love, one that I needed to pick up from a shelf and dust off, rediscover anew. Or it’s a calling that’s gotten swamped amidst the multitude of other time and commitment choices I’ve made. Or it’s a gift I have too often left unopened or unshared …

I love the therapeutic work that I am engaged in, and it’s part of my life’s work, my calling – to listen, teach, serve, guide, counsel, be present, help people find the healing power within them – but writing has never stopped feeling as though it belongs in my life’s work too. The form and expression it takes just seems to keep evolving … and so the form it seems to be taking right now is journaling and poetry, putting my journaling into poem/prose form (free form, that is, free from any conventional style of rhythm and rhyme!). Somehow, poetry seems simpler to manage right now than a thought-piece or essay, too. And since I wrote multitudes of poems in my teens and twenties, returning to poem-form feels like coming home.

So, this blog offering is a poem drawn from more of my January retreat (at St. Benedict) journaling. A poem that feels like it weaves together the mosaic of intentions that shapes the deepest essence of  who and how I want to be in the work I do, the life I live … deep listening, loving speech, healing words, learning stillness, practicing the pause, holding presence, being present with Presence. Mindful speech, mindful silence.

These intentions are like vows – my ‘Presence in communication’ vows – vows that are sacred to me. And these are also vows offered to myself, my children, my friends, colleagues, clients, everyone I meet. I’m still only beginning to learn how to practice them and be them with mindful consistency across the many situations and interactions that come my way, but I am keeping them close at heart!

(And if you look in the wayback of my blog archives, I’ve carried these intentions, these vows – or they’ve carried me – for a while now, and they’ve only taken deeper root. They’re home, where they belong! I’m home in them …)

I think, too, that this poem just opened my eyes to something – that my calling is itself a mosaic, many parts of whole, as one! The intentions of belovedness and Presence hold this mosaic together.

Presence in Communication

The intention of my every day communication:
To carry silence with my communication,
to allow silence the place in my communication –
pauses before my words, rests while listening
whole listening
my own thoughts stilled
open to the silence behind the other’s words
the unspoken notes clear to my ear

My policy toward the spoken word:
Use only the words that are most necessary
With care, choose them well
Take a breath, take a sacred pause
better to enter into a space –
a space that allows the liberty to feel
into the right intent
from which the right words will
flow –
Right words will come
from the letting go of over-thinking
the search for them
surrendering into the flow
of Presence

Best of all, in all
tend presence, tend Presence
Presence speaks the best, says the most
and needs no words
to convey the meaning of love
to show another they are heard and known
If and when words fail –
for they do and will
accept this truth with grace –
If and when words fail –
remain present
With or without words
your presence is your
communication
of your essence

Deepen presence, deepen into it
become
intimate
with silence, stillness, sacred pauses, rests
deep listening
whole-soul listening not only to the words
but beyond the words
to the whole being of another

Listening with deep presence, quiet mind
from this well of deep Presence
mindful healing words
can be drawn to offer
like living water
But it is your presence still
that makes the water
of your words
Living

Mending brokenness with gold

/ Lanae / Leave a comment Featured

A few days ago, I heard again a story I have heard before about a Japanese method of repairing a broken object, like a teacup or a vase, with gold, and of the philosophy that goes with that process. The belief is that the visible brokenness and mendedness makes the repaired object even more beautiful than it was when it was an unbroken whole … more beautiful AND more beloved.

So, my curiosity helped me discover that this repair process is called ‘kintsugi,’ which as I understand means literally ‘gold joinery,’ or ‘to join with gold.’ And that this joining with gold process and philosophy is also a part of the Zen ideals of ‘wabi sabi,’ which teaches about seeing the beauty of aged, weathered, or worn things.

About cherishing the beauty of unpretentious imperfection, honoring the beauty of simplicity, of authenticity, of vulnerability. About respecting the deep, rich beauty of things that have been broken and mended.

But also about respecting and honoring the rich beauty of people who have been wounded and aren’t afraid to let their scars, their brokenness and their mendedness, to be visible …

Of people who understood that their brokenness was worth being mended with gold, that they were worth being mended and made a new whole …

What beautiful philosophies! Or maybe I should say ‘practices’ … because these words and ideals aren’t meant to be elegant objects to set on the shelf of your mind or heart, to look at and admire. They’re meant to be a way of living more richly and soulfully … seeing beauty and light in the ordinary, the cracked and broken, the imperfection, and seeing them all with belovedness.

Teaching that broken things can be mended and still have purpose, usefulness, beauty, a beauty that maybe new things don’t and can’t yet possess … In this way, also teaching the hope of restoration and reconciliation.

I realized that this method of kintsugi, this way of repairing and joining with gold, doesn’t just apply to broken objects … but to our own broken hearts. And what about to broken or cracked relationships, friendships? Can those cracks or breaks be filled, joined with the gold of forgiveness, of reconciliation, whatever reconciliation may mean in that circumstance?

Cracks happen, relational fractures happen, relational rifts arise. Words cause wounds, trust cracks, a sense of spiritual or emotional distance opens up, disconnect, misunderstandings, miscommunication, unequal feelings. Conflicts and crises might shake a relationship … maybe sometimes shatter it, or cause the individuals in it to feel a shattering. Or perhaps just a subtle but profound shifting of the relational foundation …

And so what felt like a strong, deep-rooted relationship or friendship seems to become like a beautiful vase that fell and shattered … what do you do with the broken pieces of the vase? Do you sweep the pieces into the trash, and consider the worth of the vase irretrievably ruined? The question is, how precious was the vase … precious enough to gather up the pieces and fit them back together, even if they will not be in the same flawless form? Precious enough to find the most beautiful way to fit them back together, even if it is a painstaking – or painful – process?

Can a cracked, wounded, broken relationship or friendship be made whole, restored or repaired as if the cracked, breached, or broken places had never been? Maybe, maybe not … but whether it can or not, the effort of reconciliation, the desire of restoration or repair, is precious beyond price!

And so, the deeper question that came to me is: What if we sought to repair and restore our relationships, our friendships, in the kintsugi way? To mend, to join with gold, the broken places, the broken trust, the broken communication, the broken connections. To mend brokenness with belovedness.

How is that done … with mindful listening and open-hearted conversation. With open-souled vulnerability and deep humility. Sometimes, with tears, with repentance, with apologies … and sometimes, with stillness, silence, space.

Maybe it seems counterintuitive, that giving space would be the thing that healed brokenness or disconnect, but sometimes, it’s the loving act of giving space, letting go, that becomes the gold that joins relationships together again. It’s what my soul believes, anyway!

I think that perhaps a truly sacred relationship or friendship is one that has seen and been weathered by storms, one that has endured brokenness but has been mended with gold. Because it was precious enough to be mended and mended with the best …

And it is more beautiful, more cherished, more honored because it has been broken and because of all the gold with which it is mended and joined together …

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Questions to consider: politically, socially, globally, what if we sought to repair broken relationships in a kintsugi way, a way of belovedness? And – what if we sought to repair and restore our broken relationship with the earth, with nature, in a kintsugi way? What might that look like?

Election reflections: thoughts on change, stillness, and the pressure of light

/ Lanae / 7 Comments Featured

Initially, I felt purposed not to publish my deeper reactions to the election outcome.

I wanted simply, only, to point people to the light, to grace … to implore people to remember kindness and compassion toward others, toward both those elated over election results and those disheartened by them, those rejoicing and those grieving.

But something shifted me toward sharing more, come of it what may.

I’ve never felt this sort of visceral reaction to any previous election, so I find it telling:

Election night, a nameless, depthless dismay welled up inside. I glimpsed a sense of powerful forces and movements of spirit afoot, which were (are) far too big and deep for me to even put words to …

The following day, a fire burned in my chest, throat, forehead. No matter how my mind said to me, look, the sun still came up; the world is still beautiful; don’t make catastrophic assumptions … the fire burned.

And all day long, I practiced deep, cooling breaths, trying to quell the heat and flame. In the midst of this, though, I tried to listen to what my body seemed to understand about the gravity of the situation.

A wise friend, whose profound perspectives I respect deeply, shared a lovely thought with me that has helped me process things.

She spoke of the pressure of light, of how she believes there’s actually more light in the world now, but paradoxically, it’s that very light to which people are reacting in such intense ways. Some people are being provoked to love, others to anger, to fear. The light is provoking transparency, causing hidden things, some of which are painful, to rise to consciousness …

I think she’s right, that there IS more light. Oh, I think there’s always been light, but it’s breaking forth more brilliantly, fiercely! Yes, I know it’s so hard to believe, with all of the fear, anger, and anguish present, with the apparent resurgence of dark, nasty roots of bigotry and basest prejudices of all kinds, with the shadows of hatefulness and evil that seem to loom.

Yet, I suspect perhaps these things are happening because of the work of the light, because the light is driving them into the open, where they should be!

The pressure of the light is breaking through into places of darkness and making the seeds and roots that hid there visible … biases, wounds, ancient, unhealed traumas of oppression, violence, and injustice that we all bear stains or scars of, harmful beliefs that collectively or individually burden us. Deeply embedded patterns of perception, communication, and relationship that desperately need transformation …

And the pressure of the light is painful, isn’t it … to see, to feel what it reveals hurts.

But what we can see and know, we can heal! And therein is the hope … but also the urgency. The urgent need of holding on to the light, being the good, watering seeds of peace, seeking stillness in the chaotic swirls of societal and personal emotion …

Yes, stillness is needed, now. You and I, we need stillness, to be able to sit with all the powerful emotions swirling up, to hold space for them. To sit with anger and fear and learn to bring the fruit of loving change and genuine justice from it.

You and I, we need stillness, so that we can then rise up and be the good, be the love, be the light, that is needed now.

Out of the stillness is born the deepest living and the purest action.

Out of the stillness, the brightest light shines.

And in the stillness, we can bear the pressure of the light, and respond with love and grace, to even the hardest and most painful, devastating things.

I’m not naïve to the presence and power of evil, but I believe whole-heartedly, whole-soulfully, that goodness is strong, is strengthening, is the strongest force in the world. Everywhere, I see a surging of fierce grace, fierce pleadings for grace and light. People expressing powerful intentions to bring the pressure of light to bear against hate and injustice … and powerful intentions to be willing for the pressure of light within, to let it reveal, heal, and transform.

I am willing for the pressure of the light. Willing to let it provoke unbounding, unconditional love in me. What about you? What will the pressure of light provoke in you?

May it provoke belovedness.

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One other reflection: We are in the midst of a massive societal transformation, a change in consciousness, and it won’t be stopped. Regardless of who won the election, it was/is happening, anyway. Some experience this as beautiful and good, but others as painful and terrible.

Rather like an intense grief reaction, because there’s loss involved, the loss of the familiar/status quo … but for some, a way of life is dying. It’s hard to see the goodness in that dying, and they’re grieving. And anger is a part of grief. Fear, resistance, a part of it. It’s important to try to understand that, to allow compassion toward it, whether we see it in others or in ourselves.

I’ve read so many reactions and reflections the last few days, people pouring their hearts out, lifting their voices. Pain from all sides, pleas to be heard. It awakens a question: as we’re seeking to be heard, are we also listening? Are we in a space to listen; can we find it?

Listening with belovedness, to the hurts and the hearts of those who voted differently than we, as well as to those who share similar views? Listening inclusively?

Listening leads to understanding; understanding to compassion. Then, to loving, to healing.

If we’re wondering how we got to this point in our world, perhaps one reason is because we have been raising our own voices to speak our truths, yet not listening to others’ truths, not listening for or hearing the hurts and the hearts of those with whose choices or voices or truths we disagree …

Make no mistake, hatefulness and injustice MUST be spoken against, lived against, and love must be lived into, even if it costs us the dearest friendships or asks us to let go of privileges we’re attached to. Yet let’s not be so quick to assume hate is the truth of a heart and soul without first listening deeply to hurts there!

What a beautiful thing if this pressure of light would also provoke us all to listen more to one another … if it would provoke the awakening of stillness so that we could listen in belovedness.

Listening with belovedness

/ Lanae / 6 Comments

Since I voiced my desire for this blog to be a ‘conversation space rich in belovedness’, a place where ‘honest, vulnerable conversation and connection’ takes place, it seems good to discuss first an essential part of such conversation – listening. In particular, mindful listening, deep listening. Listening with open-heartedness, listening with belovedness …

But how does such listening apply to writing, to a blog context, to this blog? I’ve been pondering what an intentional listening space looks like in a place where it seems all too easy for the blogger to just do the ‘talking’, or most of it, through content-creating.

I’m usually known as a quiet person, and it’s true, sometimes I am! In group settings, I generally become a listener and an observer, partly because I enjoy understanding the dynamics and patterns at play – and well, partly because I do have a quiet, low voice. However, closer friends know that I am not always quiet, that I have a voice and a lot to say, that there is a deep well of intensity and passion dwelling in my heart and soul, and that sometimes it plentifully, passionately pours forth!

Perhaps this blog is an outlet to pour forth my voice, to be heard and known. But I mean it to be much more than that; I mean it also to be about blending our voices together, listening to each other. Being present together with ourselves, being who we are, hearing and listening to who we truly are, in a space of intentional communication. So, is that possible through a blog?! Yes, yes!

In a blog context, we may not be in each other’s presence, but we certainly can still be richly present with each other. I can (and will!) be present and mindful in how I prepare the words I share and in how I listen and respond to comments; you can be present and mindful in how you read, receive, and reflect upon the words.

What then, is this mindful, deep listening?

Thich Nhat Hanh, a Zen Buddhist master, whose serene wisdom and clear, elegant writing I have come to treasure, teaches and writes about mindful listening, deep listening. Mindfulness is a way of being, of being present, being here now, both with ourselves and with each other. One of the most important practices of mindfulness is deep listening, a very loving way to be present with someone who is sharing themselves with us. Mindful, loving communication and relationships develop through deep listening and loving speech.

Loving speech arises from deep listening. Belovedness arises from deep listening, mindful listening … we can send echoes of belovedness into someone’s heart without even needing to speak, just by being deeply present, listening with full attention and intention. This is the preparation for speaking words of belovedness, words of comfort or counsel, and for actions of belovedness.

Often, we tend to listen (or read) with intent to reply, but what if we listen solely with intent to hear and to understand? What if we listen to or read someone’s words not with intent to debate or to point out wrong perceptions (or ones we feel are possibly wrong), but with intent to learn, to understand, to communicate, to dialogue, to seek reconciliation? That type of listening intent echoes with grace and humility, which are themselves also echoes of belovedness …

Thich Nhat Hanh also speaks of first listening to understand, rather than first seeking to offer counsel or solutions for suffering. Listen for and to the heart of the other person (or group of people), to hear whatever their suffering may be or may have been, to be present with them in that, to enter into their experience and perspective.

It is beautiful and right to have a passion to stand against and to correct injustice and oppression, to do whatever we can to ease suffering, to put solutions into action. But first, be present, listen deeply and mindfully to understand, to perceive clearly, to love deeply. Then we can be prepared to speak and to act for change in ways that add no harm but are healing and liberating.

Listening may not seem like much to do, but it’s a first right thing to do; the essential foundation for deeper ‘doing’. Listening with belovedness is a great gift to give to ourselves, to one another, to all, to the world. A listening presence of belovedness, empty of prejudicial discrimination, full of acceptance and compassion, is so restorative, so healing, with the potential to build strong relationships, create deep change, bring a profound, transformative justice to a world that needs it.