Category — Interviews
Relig-ish: Spirit in the Spice Drawer
Hello Magpies. Today I’m visiting Jo Crawford at Crafting the Sacred. She’s doing an insightful and well-curated series on sacred connections, focusing on everyday sacred moments. I’m pleased as punch to be guest posting on her site, where I talk about one of my right-fit spiritual practices, holiday cooking. I’ve got a blessing waiting for you there. Won’t you join us?
Behind the Mic: Right-Fit Spirituality for Artists
I have about a dozen people lined up who I’d like to interview in our Relig-ish series about right-fit spiritual practices and relig-ish hybrids. But right now the time to ask for and edit those interviews is not accessible to me. Thanks why I’m grateful for Create Hype, who kindly interviewed me about art + spirituality over at their place. It was nice to step behind the mic for someone else. This was my favorite question:
Your community and website focus on spirituality and crafting a belief system that nurtures YOU, just special you. Why is it so important to form such a belief system as an artist?
Curious? Click here to read my answer.
Thanks for being here today.
Much Warmth,
Rachelle
*your magpie girl
Right-Fit Soulcare: Photography as Gratitude Practice
Have you met Teresa Deak of Given to Gratitude? I love her combination of being very real about the ups and downs of life, whilst still being dedicated to a practice of gratitude. Today Teresa steps Behind the Mic to share her eloquent and insightful thoughts on photography as gratitude practice. Teresa, step right up…
Gratitude as Spiritual Practice
by Teresa Deak
As I write this I hear birdsong from my backyard even though the windows are all closed. I huddle inside keeping warm with sweaters and slippers and feel grateful.
I’m grateful that I don’t have to be outside in the rain. Grateful I have a warm dry home and an abundance of sweaters and slippers.
And I’m grateful for the rain. Some of the things I love best were longing for it: flowers, trees, lakes, rivers, even us.
Still, I hope for and wish for a reprieve from the wet. Just a few minutes would do. Minutes when I could take my camera outside and capture the vibrant colour the rain has awakened in the autumn leaves. But the clouds are thick, the light dim and that reprieve will not come today.
So I return to gratitude.
This is a common theme for me, finding gratitude even in the midst of longing. And for me it is the fuel for my spiritual engine.
Easy to say, but what do I mean Gratitude, and how do I connect with her?
I take photos. Like some people go to church or pray, I take photos.
The first time I was led by her to something amazing I had a broken shoulder. While I had one arm immobile and had little I could do in the hot summer but sit and appreciate my surroundings, I one day became lost in the sea of purple that is a pansy. When I was startled from my trance by the shock of orange at its center I realized that I had been somewhere.
I felt I’d travelled to a place within and beyond, something grander than our imagining and deep at the center of everything. Words are such a clumsy means to express it. They are never quite enough, never quite right.
Shortly after that day I acquired my first digital camera. Suddenly the expression of this feeling became a lot easier. Without the weight of words to muddy the experience, I could capture something with my lens and share it with others who could feel it too. This is what I do on Photos You Feel. There are words there, too, my version of poetry. But it’s the photos, really, that carry the message.
It’s taken years of sharing, years of diving into this sensation that is so hard to name, years of blogging and connecting and losing myself in this presence, in the Infinite, over and over again for me to revisit the idea that she needs a name.
Because there is so much more to this than merely taking photos of pretty things.
There is this awareness, this seeing something beautiful in sometimes the most mundane of moments.
There is a feeling of community, of connection with something greater than me and my lens, with people who share this same journey.
There is a respect and desire for kindness to these glimpses of something eternal and mysterious.
And there is thanks. There is always thanks. I am so thankful to see what not everyone sees. I am so thankful to have this camera that can capture it, that sometimes captures something I didn’t even see in the taking. I am so thankful that I can sort through these images, melt into them again, that I can share them across the electronic universe. I am so full of thanks that others see the divine in them also.
And all of these feelings, all of these elements – the awareness and kindness, the community and the thankfulness – they are all parts of one thing that is so hard to name. But with much meditation, much thought about how they all work together, I’ve decided that this shall be called Gratitude.
And so it is. When I need to refuel, when I need to remind myself that alone is a myth, the universe is right here ready for me to tap into. When I need to breathe life into my soul again, I can dive into any part of that process. The photo taking, the sorting or the sharing, and I can fill up on Gratitude right there.
You might be getting the impression that my spiritual practice is taking and sharing photos. It’s part of it, but it’s not the core of it.
The photos are key for me, but what is key for you is whatever lets you sink down into Gratitude.
This is my practice of Gratitude. Letting myself become fully drenched in the moment, alive with thanks and awareness and community and kindness. The giving in to that feeling. The release of my white knuckle grip on the tether to everyday life and the slipping deep into her water. The practice is to become Given to Gratitude.
So for me the photos and their sharing is the ritual, the key that will almost always open my heart, but the practice is Gratitude.
Knowing this, I can practice Gratitude anytime, even without my camera, even without the gorgeous sunshine. Sinking into Gratitude can be thankfulness for any bounty, can be doing a kindness for someone, can be stopping mid-sentence to enjoy the two flickers on the neighbour’s house (which are actually there, right now, as I write this), or connecting with my soul-family.
And each of those acts, each of those moments in Gratitude, fills me. Like a well fuelled vehicle, I have what it takes to continue.
What ritual will bring you to Gratitude? What practices can you begin that will let you feel free to be drenched in her waters?
Gratitude, like Beauty, is in all things. And in small things. Can you see she is in you?
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What about you Magpie? How do you interact with Gratitude?
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Thanks.Giving. Here at Magpie Girl, we say “thank-you” to our generous guest posters by making donation in their honor. Teresa has chosen to direct her donation to The Girl Effect a non-profit organization dedicated to education, health care, and justice for girls worldwide. If this article was helpful to you, please click here to make a donation. (Thanks, you.)
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With a spirit that lights up the room, and a generous heart, Teresa Deak brings Gratitude into her every action. Using a camera to explore the small things we often miss, her photographs evoke a sense of the mystery in all things. With gratitude as her guide, she shares the raw honesty of her experience with us, and encourages a place for gratitude in our own lives. Photos shared at Photos You Feel give a glimpse into that small beauty. Join Teresa at Given To Gratitude for a journey to welcome gratitude into your everyday with joy and abundance.
Relig-ish: My Right-Fit Spiritual Hybrid with Marjorie Gray
Have you met Marjorie Gray? Marjorie is a teacher, poet, mother, wife, grandmother, volunteer and all around fascinating soul. Today at Behind the Mic, Marjorie is giving us a peek into her right-fit spiritual hybrid — part church, part service, and a whole lot of Spirit. Marjorie, step right up…
A Hybrid Patchwork
by Marjorie Gray
Spirit balloons me, fires my passion and compassion. I’m a child, exuberant at dawn, playful throughout the day, smiling in sleep. Books, faces, trees, the sky, lakes, streams, birds, flowers and leaves call to me. Eagerly, I read, watch, explore, discover, listen and respond. I’m also a spirited grandmother, growing daily in my capacity to drink in wisdom from all ages, from group spiritual directors, prophets, visionaries and sages. My roots are deep and growing deeper, even as new shoots sprout on old and new branches.
Sound like too much hunky-dory gobbledy-gook? Yet as I write it, just as when I write in my journal multiple times a day, someone I call Great or Holy Spirit lets me know it’s actual as well as factual. Granted it’s harder to write the sadness and anger for public view. Even in the journal, gratitude dominates (my alter-ego, clown name is JOYO). But Spirit often actively engages me through tears, rants, and hurting heart cries for HELLP (that’s how I spell it in silent yells and yelps). Yet I am certain that Holy Love blesses and guides me in marriage, family, church and community. In her wondrous, patient peace my jumbled, paradoxical dance finds joyful balance on the arc of hope.
Timely, beyond time, Spirit’s infusions are momentous and daily. Monday, on my way to a used bookstore in Baltimore, she drew me to sit on a ledge beside a woman asking for spare change. Would that I had stayed for conversation instead of only to get directions and give her a dollar. Wednesday she infiltrated our newly forming Resilience Circle at church. Thursday her vibrancy invigorated my body-soul on a trash and recycling pickup walk round Greenbelt Lake. Always available in abundance, Holy Breath comes alive in my awareness of desire, in solitude and silence, in appreciation of children and of the child in each of us.
So my spirituality is a hybrid homegrown patchwork. Seniors and kids and others who ride with me see this sign on the dashboard: 2001 Prius owned by Jesus, operated by Sister Marjorie in his service. I love driving almost as much as walking. When I’m alone in the car, the sign and the wide skies above remind me Great Spirit is human too. I’m neither female nor male then, but pure spirit powerfully embodied.
What about you Magpie? How is it your right-fit spiritual hybrid and how did you discover it?
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Thanks.Giving. Here at Magpie Girl, we say “thank-you” to our generous guest posters by making donation in their honor. Marjorie has chosen to direct her donation to Dayspring Retreat Center.
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Marjorie majored in Art and English at Calvin College, and taught both subjects in elementary and middle schools. She has a Masters in Recreation from the University of Maryland and has worked in various settings with senior adults. She is the author of Mulled Words: A Word a Week from God’s Word and Mulled Psalms: Moving from I to We. She blogs at Mullstream and lives in Greenbelt Maryland.
Right-Fit Soulcare: Knitting as a Spiritual Practice
Have you met Andi Johnson? No, she’s not one of the women pictured here. :-) But she’s carrying on their tradition — knitting! Today at Behind the Mic, Andi is telling us how knitting is her right fit spiritual practice. Andi, step right up…
The Heart & Soul of Knitting
by Andi Johnson
Knitting is an art and a craft. You need some mathematical ability. You need to have some dexterity. You need to have good eyesight. And, if you don’t knit, please, as you read this, substitute the word “crochet”, “weaving”, “woodworking”, or whatever other craft you do.
Knitting keeps me sane. As one who is ADD, I bring my knitting everywhere. It helps me focus and concentrate on the speakers and conversations. And, I suppose I knit for sanity, for stress-relief. Can you be upset when you knit, while you knit? Stressed out about events happening around you? Think about that. How connected do you feel when you knit? With your past, connecting to your present, connecting to your future. When you are thinking the stitches involved in an intricate pattern, turning a heel, or purling & knitting when you should be knitting and purling, how can you be stressed?
Last spring I read The Knitting Way by Janice MacDaniels. When I received the book, I allowed it to take me on its journey through the patterns, deepening my understanding of knitting as a spiritual practice. The spiral is on the cover of the book. I’m drawn to spirals, eternity, the circular pattern of the spiral. I had to knit the spiral. The book explains, “This spiral is a reminder that we are on a journey. As your hands work this pattern, reflect upon where you are along the
journey and be content with your progress.”
After many years’ hiatus, I picked up the needles when I became a caseworker. I brought my knitting into peoples’ homes while I sat and talked with them. If I happened to finish a hat while there, I’d hand it over to the mom, saying, “You need to take better care of yourself, and this is a start.”
A few years later, one of the women in our church began a Shawl Group. It began as a spiritual group, beginning in silence and meditation, with a reading, and just knitting for a while. The shawls would be given to parishioners who had lost someone, who needed just that bit of comfort in their lives during a tough time. And, so we continue with our shawls. Not in silence, and not always together after the service– sometimes in our homes, out in public, and usually in church. I think the connections we make in church through our knitting, whether we knit in a group, or in our homes, make us stronger, and build a better community through sharing skills, patterns and yarns.
We recognize the need for someone to take care of themselves with the finished project as we pass it on. In that way, we connect our spirituality in the work we do.
The colors and textures can be luscious. I’m reminded of sunrises, sunsets, mountains, rocks, flower gardens, oceans…I love perusing yarn shops. When I pick up a skein of yarn, I am awed that I can turn this beautiful yarn into something wearable, something usable, and something beautiful. My heart flutters a little.
When I mentioned to someone about writing about knitting, they said to be sure to tell you that mistakes are okay. We learn from them. They can be corrected, but they don’t always need to be corrected. They can make our finished pieces interesting and creative. And, isn’t that the way life is. Is there anyone here who does not make mistakes?
When you knit, you pick up from the last stitch you knit, connecting the yarn, row to row. And, on and on it goes. You connect the loops. Stories are told, occasions are celebrated and recognized. You are carrying on a tradition that is hundreds of years old. It is a craft passed down from generation to generation, within families, among friends. Connections: yarns to yarns. Connections: women to women, and, even between the sexes. Connections: community.
What about you Magpie? How is it you connect your heart and soul to community?
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Thanks.Giving. Here at Magpie Girl, we say “thank-you” to our generous guest posters by making donation in their honor. Andi has chosen to direct her donation to Lumunos, a non-profit organization dedicated to helping people find their calling. If this article was helpful to you, please click here to make a donation. (Thanks, you.)
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Andi Johnson is the Community Manager and Administrative Assistant for Lumunos. (www.lumunos.org) She has previously
worked in human services and hospital financial accounting and patient accounts. She is active in politics, her Unitarian Universalist Church (www.kuuc.org), and sings with Animaterra Women’s Chorus. (www.animaterrasings.org) She lives in Marlborough, NH with her 2 cats and a large stash of yarns.
Right-Fit Soulcare: Running, Solitude and Finding Self-Worth
Have you met Jennifer Luitwieler? Jennifer is the maker of my fabulous personalized napkins, and in her own words she’s also “an award winning author, a speaker and a woman who chooses to run with her dog. She is the wife of one hooligan, and mother of three school aged ruffians. She shares a house with two cats and The Dog. She lives in Tulsa, OK but will always love her hometown of Pittsburgh, PA. Her love for sports, especially the Steelers, knows no bounds. She regularly writes for regional and online publications and has contributed to The Practice Of Love (Civitas, 2011).’
Today Jennifer is behind the mic, talking with us about one of her right-fit spiritual practice, Running. Even if you aren’t a runner, you’ll love her musings on how she discovered her own beautiful worth through a practice of gentle solitude. Jennifer, step right up…
Running as a Right-Fit Spiritual Practice
Jennifer Luitwieler
author of Run With Me: An Accidental Runner and the Power of Poo
Some people, and I know who you are because I used to be one of you, might scoff at the idea of physical exercise being also a spiritual one. But I drank the kool-aid; a whole bucket of the stuff and I have to say: running is spiritual.
The first thing I want anyone to know, whether I’m just meeting you today through our mutual friend, Rachelle, or if I’ve known you for ever and a day, it’s this: running is not a right-fit spiritual (or otherwise) practice for everyone. This series is wisely given the caveat “right-fit,” because there is no one formula for all people. Running as a spiritual practice works for me. Yoga or weaving or shaving soap into bear figurines works for others. It fits my life; it fits my needs. I came to running against my will: I began to run because I needed an efficient way to train The Dog to stop using my sewing studio as his personal toilet. It was a means to an end, but not for house training The Dog. What I found, after a time of running, wheezing and in pain, through a summer of short distances, was that running held something for me I had yet to discover anywhere else.
I found solitude. Because I often run alone, I have 30 minutes to more than an hour every time I hit the road all to myself. All. To. Myself. I can not over state the value of this solitary and totally self-dependent time. Each solo run gives me something, even tiny things like a menu plan for the week. Sometimes it’s much bigger, the gift I get from these moments. I found resolution for issues with our kids while running. I solved the ending of a problematic chapter of my book. I know I’ve heard the quiet voice of a loving God in the wind, felt it in the sun and rain, gloried through the shifting seasons and each new challenge they brought to my running. Solitude, in itself, seems imperative in spiritual pursuits. But first, I had to learn to be comfortable with the solitude.
Comfort in quiet is a challenge for many of us, whether we have hordes of children or a demanding job or financial worries, or all of these things. Our world makes it easy to hide from an interior monologue, and even easier to avoid any kind of spiritual dialogue. Music in my ears only added to the sounds I could attend so I would not have to think about my stuff. After miles and miles, after leaving The Dog at home, I finally hit that place. That perfectly comfortable place where I understood the value of quiet. When I finally got quiet, I could hear. And I heard this: “You have value. You have worth. You are beautiful. You are smart. I love you.”
I fought the quiet because I didn’t want to hear that. I didn’t want to be told of my value when I could offer cold hard facts to the contrary. I wanted to deflect a message that so few people really understand. After the fighting, when I could hear, I believed. I believed, for the first time in 40 years, in my own worth. There is something incredibly empowering about a belief grasped tightly in one’s heart. When I knew that truth the way I knew that I have ten fingers, I became virtually invincible. Suddenly instead of trying to keep quiet out of fear of being misunderstood, I found that I could speak, be understood and share something of value. I found that instead of being judged for my ideas, I’m being asked to continue to talk about them. You have value, too. You are beautiful and worthwhile. You have something to say in a voice that is uniquely yours.
So you see, my voice found me when I shut up long enough to know what it really had to say. The world crashes in; it demands my time and energy. It wants to dictate my choices and increase my insecurity, because in that way, it will continue to convince me to buy what I don’t need and to live a life I do not want. So I keep running, because I forget and because sometimes those things the world offers seems to pretty and shiny. I remember, when I’m running, to turn off the noise, to be quiet in my mind, to listen.
You can smirk and call it an endorphin rush, and sure, there is that. But it’s deeper. It doesn’t wear off over time. I want to go back again and again to empty, refill, renew. To breathe in and out, to push myself aside, to let more true words hit their target in my heart.
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Thanks.Giving. Here at Magpie Girl, we say “thank-you” to our generous guest posters by making donation in their honor. Jennifer has chosen to direct her donation to Habitat for Humanity, a non-profit organization dedicated to helping low-income households build their own homes. If this article was helpful to you, please click here to make a donation. (Thanks, you.)
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What about you Magpie? Have you adopted a new spiritual practice lately? How did you find it? (Or how did it find you?) What are you learning? (Do tell!)
Right-Fit Spiritual Practices: Surf Pray Love
Have you met Jesica Davis of SurfPrayLove? Jes and I met at Blogher ’11 in the Faith Blogger’s forum. In the group of about 20 women, we were the only bloggers who weren’t involved in institutionalized forms of faith. Jes has a bright smile and an open demeanor, and I think there was something more about her spirit that made every woman in there not only want to talk to her, but to touch her. I watched as person after person approached her and put a hand on her shoulder, or touched a finger tip to her arm. I’m pleased as punch that such an appealing spirit is with us today. Jes is getting behind the mic to talk to us about one of her right-fit spiritual practices: surfing. Jess, step right up….
Surfing as Spiritual Practice
with Jesica Davis of Surf Pray Love
My introduction to formal spiritual practice came when, almost twenty five years ago, a friend introduced me to Buddhist chanting. Raised in an open-minded but non-religious family, I was intrigued and (somewhat) disciplined about it, but I was a freshman in college and other pursuits soon took its place.
Nevertheless, the spiritual path continued to call and, in the ensuing decades, I delved into a variety of traditions. I practiced contemplative reading, meditation, Afro-Cuban dance and yoga. I prayed in Native American sweat lodges, did extensive dream work and experienced shamanic journeys. I also spent over a decade applying (and helping others to apply) the principles of personal transformation as taught by Landmark Education.
And through it all, I was drawn to the ocean.
Almost a year and a half ago I was at a spiritual crossroads. I was about to complete coaching a workshop at Landmark Education and Lawrie, my beloved dreaming and shamanism mentor, was moving to Pennsylvania. Still an avid yoga practitioner and an irregular meditator, the question that most concerned me was: what’s next? When Lawrie recommended that I let spirit be my guide, I knew what I had to do. I had been dreaming about surfing and surfers for a year, so I went with it.
I bought a board and a wetsuit.
With only a few lessons under my belt and only the occasional buddy to point me in the right direction, I began to surf. I’d listened to the wisdom and experience of others for years, but this time around, I had a strong feeling that the ocean would be my teacher – and I have not been disappointed.
So what have I learned through my experiences surfing and why is surfing the right spiritual practice for me now?
- Surfing is a confrontation with unquestionable truths. A wave is a wave. The water is the water. I fall down. I stand up. I fall down again. My opinion does not matter. What’s so is so, regardless of how I feel about it. There’s no room for argument. My teacher is always right.
- Surfing takes me outside the mind and aligns my physical actions with something larger than myself. Meditation is powerful, but can easily become an escape for someone like me who is naturally drawn inwards. Surfing forces me to direct my attention to the interface between my body and the world. It brings me down to earth.
- Like the I-Ching, the ocean is a book of change. Whether it is stormy and grey-green, or calm and crystalline, it remains true to itself. I may get mad at my children or my husband for being inconsistent, but the ocean teaches that I am responsible for my own expectations. I cannot expect the water, or my family, or the world, to be a certain way. I can only be responsible for my response to how it is.
- Though surfing is not easy, it’s fun. Even if I catch nothing – and many times this has been the case – I have a good time. That’s what keeps me coming back to the beach. In this way I’ve learned that passion and joy are the gifts we are given to fuel us when pursuing lives of purpose.
Ultimately, through surfing I have discovered that I am a different self when I am in the water – a self that my ego/identity, aka my “dry land self,” cannot comprehend. Week after week, my “dry land self” would just as rather not surf, thank you very much because, out in the water, it’s not running the show.
There was a time when I was afraid to be at the beach too long because I feared that I would mellow out too much and lose my drive and ambition. Then one day I realized that maybe what I really feared was happiness. It was then that I began to risk the possibility of letting go of old dreams in favor of something which did not yet exist and which I could not identify.
In taking on surfing as my spiritual practice, that “something” has begun to shape my life in a far deeper, more satisfying way than drive and ambition ever did.
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Jesica Davis is a graduate of The University of Chicago Divinity School, a tarot card reader and the mother of two. A year of intensive dream work and her studies at Landmark Education resulted in her exploration of surfing as the ideal spiritual and transformational practice for her. You can read more of her observations and insights regarding surfing, spirituality and family life at SurfPrayLove.
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Thanks.Giving. Here at Magpie Girl, we say “thank-you” to our brilliant guest posters by making donation in their honor. Jes has chosen to direct her donation to the Surfrider Foundation, a non-profit organization dedicated to protecting our oceans. If this article was helpful to you, please click here. (Thanks, you.)
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What about you Magpie? Have you adopted a new spiritual practice lately? How did you find it? (Or how did it find you?) What are you learning? (Do tell!)
I’m Jealous of: Danielle Krysa
Have you met Danielle Krysa? I fell for her immediately upon stubling on her blog, The Jealous Curator. Jealousy is one of my ongoing gremlin challenges, and art is my first love. So of course, I was drawn to the confligration of the two on Danielle’s blog. Today in our on-going interview series, Danielle muses for us arond the question: How did you turn jealousy into a super power? Danielle, step right up…..
I love that question. It makes me laugh, or more correctly, it makes me happy. When I started my blog 2.5 years ago, I never would have believed that the soul-crushing, creativity-halting jealousy that I felt toward so much of the amazing contemporary artwork out there could be turned around–but it has. Phew. What a relief – that kind of awful jealousy was exhausting!
Let me step back for a second and explain how I found that relief. As an artist myself, whenever I came across work that I truly loved, I had a 50/50 reaction. The first feeling was always a rush of uplifting inspiration–the kind that made me want to run out, buy ten new canvases, and become the next great artist of my generation. Unfortunately, that feeling only lasted for a few minutes and was almost always quickly replaced with an overwhelming sense of doom. The thought process went a little something like this:
“Gasp! This is amazing, and simple, and I love it! Damn, I wish I thought of it. Well, maybe I could do work like this? Maybe? No? Oh, who am I kidding, there’s no way I could ever be this good.”
See? Exhausting.
I rarely ever made it to the art store to pick up those brand new canvases that were meant to display my life-changing masterpieces. I finally just got so sick of feeling like this, that one day, I think it was a Saturday, I decided to take the power back. Instead of bookmarking these artists, and clicking through their work late at night on my laptop, I decided to celebrate them. Why? Well someone told me, somewhere along the way, that when jealousy is kept inside it becomes toxic, and can poison you from the inside out–but when you actually say it out loud, in a positive way, jealousy magically transforms into admiration. That person was right – 100% right! I started writing every few days, whenever I found an artist’s work that I truly loved. Just a paragraph or two with my gut reaction to the work. I throw a lot of “sighs” and “oh my words” and “sweet jiminys” into my posts because, well, that’s truly what’s happening in my head. I write what I think. Within a few months, I was writing about one artist every day, and before I knew it, people were actually reading! It turns out that a lot of people feel exactly the same way that I do. Who knew?
Now, don’t get me wrong, I still have “Damn I wish I thought of that” pop into my head all of the time, but now it’s a good thing–it means I have tomorrow’s post! I’ve also realized through being a “jealous curator”, that there is room out there for all of us. I see so much artwork every single day –some I like, some that’s not my taste, but it’s out there. It’s in galleries, in people’s homes, in magazines, and in books. I always knew that art was a subjective thing, but it’s really, really true! Now I know that there have to be people somewhere in the world that will like my work too. But, honestly, the best thing to come out of this entire experience? I finally like my own work. That’s the biggest relief of all.
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Danielle has a BFA in Visual Arts, and a post-grad in Design. In 2009, after years of looking at beautiful contemporary art and thinking “Damn, I wish I thought of that”, she finally decided to say it out loud, and just like that, The Jealous Curator was born! Her curation went from the blogosphere to actual gallery walls in 2011 with shows opening in Washington DC, and Vancouver. She is currently planning two new shows for 2012, a series of art workshops, and is thrilled to be speaking at Alt Summit in Salt Lake City for the second year in a row.
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What about you Magpies? What (or who) are you jealous of? How might you turn that jealous into a super power?
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Thanks.Giving. Here at Magpie Girl, we say “thank-you” to our brilliant guest posters by making donation in their honor. Danielle has chosen to direct her donation to RX Art, a non-profit organization dedicated to placing original fine art in patient, procedure and examination rooms of healthcare facilities. If this article was helpful to you, please click here to donate $5 to RX Art. (Thanks, you.)
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You Might Also Like:
Turning Envy Into Inspiration by Jennifer McGuggian of The Word Cellar
Relig-ish: My Spiritual Hybrid with Christine Valters Paintner
Oh, I love it when practices from two different spiritual traditions dovetail perfectly, don’t you? I call it “dancing in the overlap.” Today behind the mic we have Christine Valters Paintner from Abbey of the Arts talking about the place where Christian monasticism + Yoga meet. And today is bonus day! Tell us where your practices overlap, or otherwise comment on this post before Sept 5th and be entered to win TWO of Christine’s inspiring books; Lectio Divina – transforming words and images into heart-centered prayer, and The Artist’s Rule: Nurturing Your Creative Soul with Monastic Wisdom. Christine, step right up!
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Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE is the online Abbess of Abbey of the Arts, a virtual monastery offering a variety of online classes and other resources to integrate contemplative practice and creative expression.
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Monk on the Mat
by Christine Valters Paintner
I believe that each of us has an inner monk. The monk archetype exists across cultures and traditions and is that aspect of our inner life which longs for depth, sees the sacred in the most ordinary of acts, and experiences all of life as a window onto a holy shimmering presence. The monk strives to live contemplatively in a frenetic world, to be fully present to her or his own experience, and savors rather than consumes.
Eight years ago, after many years of falling more and more in love with monastic spirituality I took the step of becoming a Benedictine oblate. St. Benedict was a 5th century monk whose Rule was known for being supremely wise and balanced and has persisted through time. As an oblate, I live in the everyday world, in an apartment in the heart of Seattle with my husband and my dog. I try to let my inner monk guide me through the daily tasks of shopping for groceries, balancing our finances, going on dates with my husband, and dealing with the stresses and demands of modern life. I do this to varying degrees of success.
I am also a yogini. I first learned the practice of yoga as a child. My aunt introduced me to it and it was one of the few physical practices where I felt at home. As an adult I have deepened into yoga, both as physical practice, but also as a profoundly wise philosophy and way of life.
One of the things I love about yoga is how parallel its principles are to the Christian principles of monasticism which sustain my spirit. I learn through yoga philosophy how to be fully present to my experience in this moment of time with compassion. I encounter exactly the same invitation in the wisdom of early desert monks who taught how to stay with our experience and not run from ourselves. When I practice yoga I become a better monk. When I practice my monastic side, I become a better yogi.
Yoga teaches about satya, being with the truth of this moment. About santosha, finding contentment within this truth. About tapas, stoking my inner fire to stay with my experience, to stay with the practice. My monastic tradition also teaches me to open my eyes to reality as it is, not how my ego wants it to be. It teaches me to practice being content, accepting the fullness of this moment. It encourages me to practice discipline and welcoming in difficult or painful feelings I often want to run away from. By staying with these wisdom paths the invitation is to enter more fully into places of grief, transition, letting go.
Both being a monk and being a yogi for me are about meeting life in an open-hearted way and being fully present to my own experience with compassion and curiosity. There is really little difference for me between my life on the mat and off in terms of how I approach the world.
I am a Monk. I am a Yogini. I have sometimes wanted to call myself a “monk-ini” but that sounds a little too much like an umbrella drink. I am a Monk on the Mat, a Monk in the World.
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What about you Magpies? Do you practice from two different traditions? How do they compliment one another? We’d love to hear from you “because there ain’t no place to go, but together.” Comment by Sept 5th, and be entered to win two of Christine’s beautiful books!
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Ready to pay it forward? Did this post help you? Join Magpie Girl in making a donation to Christine’s charity of choice – Samarya Center in Seattle, WA, a non-profit yoga center. Thanks so much!
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Relig-ish is a new series dedicated to exploring a new kind of faith — one that suites Y.O.U. Click here to read all the Relig-ish posts. Thanks for being here today! (*your magpie girl)
Relig-ish: My Spiritual Hybrid with Michelle Marlahan
It’s officially summertime and we’re taking this opportunity to explore right-fit spiritual practices. Throughout the summer we’ll be hearing from guest bloggers about their spiritual hybrids and right-fit spiritual practices. Today behind the mic we have Michelle Marlahan from It’s All Yoga.
Step right up Michelle!
As a yoga teacher, I offer people the opportunity to practice compassion, curiosity and acceptance (disguised as yoga poses). I am also the Fairy Princess (it’s a long story) of It’s All Yoga – a sweet, unassuming yoga studio in Sacramento, California. I write at Blogasana and am launching a site about savoring the quiet moments called Love Wasting Time. I love my husband, stepdaughter and my horse. It’s a full and blessed life.My Spiritual Hybrid
by Michelle Marlahan
Little known fact: I left my husband six months after our wedding.
We’d been together almost four years. I didn’t learn something alarming about him after the wedding, nor did he change into a completely different person. Nope, I left because of something I read in a yoga book.
Let’s back up. I started doing yoga in 1996. It was offered through the wellness program at my work as an exercise class. I loved it instantly.
I went to church “on the side.” Coming from a Catholic upbringing, church was a way to stay grounded after leaving my small and isolated hometown even though I didn’t subscribe to every belief of the religion.
Life felt very compartmentalized. I had a job, relationships, church, self care – and no connection among those things.
Little by little I got the sense that there was more to this “yoga” thing than the teacher let on. Eventually I went to other yoga classes and did reading and research on my own. I learned about the spiritual side, the moral guidelines called Yamas and Niyamas and the practices of pranayama (breathing) and meditation. While the language and ideas were new and mysterious, something about it felt very much like home. It brought many of those separate pieces of me together, into wholeness.
In 2001 I did a yoga teacher training, and in 2002 I got married.
After the wedding I dove into yoga philosophy even more deeply. I remember sitting in my favorite chair and reading the following excerpt from Alistair Shearer’s The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali:
“Society reaches a stage where property confers rank, wealth becomes the only source of virtue, passion the sole bond of union between husband and wife, falsehood the source of success in life, sex the only means of enjoyment, and outer trappings are mistaken for inner religion.”
For some reason – on that day, in that chair – I decided that I could not be a Yogi while living the life I was. I was ready to ditch it all – the paycheck, the mortgage, the car… the husband.
My husband did not do yoga. He was not a vegetarian. He did not go to church. He did not like lima beans. I could come up with a hundred things we do not have in common.
I could also come up with many things we do have in common: core values, humor, love of animals, the joy of sitting on the couch holding hands.
But you find what you look for, and I was looking for an out. I was scared and confused – marriage was the real deal and I didn’t have many great role models in my life (you’re lucky if you do).
Aren’t we supposed to have everything in common? Shouldn’t it be easy if you love the person? These were daunting questions and in my search for answers my view became very narrow, very black and white.
That was almost ten years ago. We are still married. I did a decade of growing up in our year apart and learned that life is perfectly imperfect, subject to interpretation and full of contradiction.
One line in one book does not fit all people the same way (just like one instruction for a yoga pose does not fit all bodies). It is possible to be a “modern yogi,” adapting wisdom from thousands of years ago to this life where I have a job, a house, a car… a spouse.
Having a “container” for spiritual practice – a lineage, a path, a group, a dogma – is wonderful. It can provide guidance, structure and a sense of belonging. And… it can be limiting, forceful and exclusionary.
My “spiritual-hybrid” is very much in line with the advice from the Buddha: Don’t believe what anyone tells you, even if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own knowledge and experience.
Now when I read or hear something new I let it go in one ear and halfway out the other. I let it hover, a suspended question mark. I notice the sensations in my body as I consider the idea. I write about it. Practice yoga with it. Talk to a friend or therapist. Sometimes I postpone a conclusion. And I always reserve the right to change my mind.
My life path does not follow the lines of a rule book. My hybrid way is messy, it takes more time and attention, it’s sometimes unclear and uncomfortable. There’s vulnerability in the discovery process and I have to take responsibility for my choices. This approach feels real and alive to me.
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Ready to pay it forward? Michelle supports Heartsent Adoption Agency (in honor of her friend Tami who is adoptions a child from Taiwan). As a thank you for her post today, Magpie Girl has donated $25 in her honor. Did this post help you? Consider donating.
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What about you Magpies? How do you stay flexible around opinions or new ideas? How do you find middle ground between contracted and collapsed? I practice yoga with a new idea, or I journal about it. What do you do?
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Relig-ish is a new series at Flock dedicated to exploring a new kind of faith — one that suites Y.O.U. Come along with us as we help each other find a spirituality that fits. Click here to read all the Relig-ish posts.
Thanks for being here today.
Much Warmth, Rachelle
