Category — Soulstories

Just one of many Solstice celebrations, this one at the house on Rockaway Beach. 

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It is not quite 5am and the dark is slowly dimming to reveal pine trees like shadow puppets awaiting the stage. Beyond them the water is still as glass waiting or the faithful northwest kayakers who will slip out at the dawn, leaving a silent wake in their path.

We are finally at my parent’s coastal retreat, Pura Vida, a beautifully appointed home on a tiny island in the Puget Sound. Everyone is asleep, save me, the insomniac with jet lag. But in a place a still and beautiful as this, who can be worried about a few hours of lost slumber? (Beside, the hammock is waiting on the deck below, should sleep come calling in the afternoon.)

The house will not be quiet long as Pura Vida is full of happy grandparents and boisterous children – soon to be joined by more boisterous children and chatty mamas when the cousins arrive. My Irish roots will show big and bold and the gift of gab will be used in full force over the coming weeks as we greet each other in a rush of words and stories. In the happy, overwhelming rush of family reunion, these sleepless quite moments in the early morn will be my hermit-ish ying to the jolly yang of our happy clan. A time to reflect and write, and sooth the frayed edges of a soul worn down by the coldness of life abroad, now stretched to a joyful bursting point by the warmth of familiarity and common bonds.

 Already we have be embraced by the loving arms of people we cherish:  the Curran-Coolmans who took our battered jet-lagged selves into their home so full of art, and story, and affection; the sweet child-like family at BF Day Elementary who jumped up and down to see us all on the sugar-filled high of the last day of school; the colorful chaotic buzz of the artists prepping for Solstice celebrations, awash in paper mache; the affection of our son-adopted-by-affection who apparently “does not get enough love” (hard to believe given the lovely young woman who rarely leaves his side); and the teary embrace of our dear friends Lynette and Dwight who could not possibly have more generous hearts toward we the ornery wanders.

All of that goodness in the first 48 hours—a restorative tonic for the 18 months spent in a culture which barely says “hello.”

And now, seven glorious weeks on the shores of placid sea, listening to the giggles, finding crabs under rocks, plucking oysters off the rocks for our supper, and wondering again why it was that we ever went away.

 Today Brother Sun will shine his goodness down on all of this wonder, creating from his rays the longest, most glorious day of the year. And I will see very dear moment of it, until his Sister the Moon arrives to tucks us in, just so we can rest and begin it all again.

Happy Solstice.

Posted in Immigrant Diaries, Magpie Girl, podcasts, Soulcare, Soulstories
Tags: Immigrant Diaries, podcasts, summer solstice |

Posted in Immigrant Diaries, Soulstories
Tags: Immigrant Diaries, Magpie Mama, Soulstories |

“I think my most important job is to make space for people to be who they are and tell their own stories…My role is to cultivate relationship, cultivate curiosity, [and] create a sense of sacred space.”     -Kelly Bean,  Soultribe Cultivator

How do I love Kelly Bean? Let me count the ways! First, she’s a redhead (big points.) Second he has the totally adorable name. (more brownie points.) But most importantly, Kelly Bean is as gentle as she is wise, with more patience than anyone I know, and has a habit of waiting and listening until the solution arrives. (Unlike some redheads we know. Hi. Me.)

There’s nothing like learning from a pro, and at 20-plus years of nurturing the same Soultribe (it’s a record!) Kelly can really give us insight into how to keep something going through the ups, downs and seasons of life.

This is a long, but excellent interview and features a unique shared-leadership model called Leadership by Triad which I’ve never heard of anyone else using. Plus there’s loads of stuff in here for those of you who are in the process of a church break-up, or who are Leaving Church. And don’t miss the bit where she lays out some of the common pitfalls Soultribes trip into, and how to avoid them. I recommend you print this out and pop it in your bag. You’ll want to underline and highlight this winsome goodness, I promise.

Kelly generously gave us her time to write up this interview, so she could encourage and guide you. In the spirit of our on-going Sacred Commerce experiment, please let me know if you’d like to send Kelly a thank-you gift from your Etsy or other shop. (My email is moi at magpie-girl dot com.)

And now without further ado my Soulsister, Kelly Bean, and the Soultribe at Third Saturdays.

Background: Could you tell us what kind of Soultribe you belong to: What do you call it? How often do you meet? How long have you been together as a group? 

My soultribe is called Third Saturday.We are a community of people following in the way of Jesus. Our gatherings vary in size from 15-30 -which includes 6 kids ranging in ages 1 to 13. We meet twice a month for sure and sometimes more frequently.

I began to host this group over 22 years ago. I remember my daughter (who is now 23 years old) was just beginning to crawl when we first started. I can still see her playing in the center of the circle of friends, although now she is a mother herself. Over time I have become the ‘official’ cultivator of this community (thanks Rachelle for the great title, “cultivator.”) I’d venture to say that most of the current participants have been attending for seven to ten years.
Group Content: What does your typical evening together look like? [Read more →]

Posted in Interviews, Magpie Girl, Soulcare, Soulstories
Tags: Guest Posts, Interviews, Leaving Church, Soulcare, Soulstories, Soultribes |

(The singing on this fast and dirty podcast is much louder than the speaking. Be prepared to turn down the volume! Consider your self warned.)

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I am young. Young enough to hold my father’s hand. The church is a little dim, the wood of the pews being so dark, the carpet such a deep red. Our pastor—part-grandfather, part-judge— is on the dais, his robes resplendently white, the gold of his stole glinting. He moves like an alchemist at the altar using, words, and rites, and gestures to turn ordinary things into talismans.

There is an electric organ, badly played, and an upright piano. We sing choruses before the liturgy, simple songs newly written by hippies with guitars picks. My father loves these simple songs, just a few phrase on repeat until they sink into your soul. He raises his hands to the sky, a stand out amongst the stiffness.

“Jesus, I just want to Thank You.
Jesus, I just want to Thay-ank You.
Jesus, I just want to Thank You.
Thank you for being so good.”

We unhinge our jaws. We loose our tongues. We the ordinary people of the everyday – we take on the task of angels. We sing. 

Now comes the hymns, both awkward and resplendent with age. An elderly woman with a thin, high voice warbles enthusiastically behind me. We are staid people, we Lutherans, and no inclined to showmanship. But some hymns are robust: 

“Holy, holy, holy!  All the saints adore thee,
casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea;
cherubim and seraphim falling down before thee,
which wert, and art, and evermore shalt be.”

My mother’s hands rest on the hymnal.  Her lacquered nails are bright against the brown nougahyde cover. They are long and cool and smooth. I love to stroke them when there is no singing and the service lingers on. I do not care for the spoken words: long scripture passage read aloud, the drone of the sermon. But the songs, the psalms, the hymnody-these charm me. I am utterly in their thrall. Spellbound. The Latin is like an incantation. We make our confession in a magic tongue:

 ”Kyrie, Kyrie Eleison, Eleison…”

Finally, it is time to chant my favorite part of the liturgy, and we turn to the Nunc Dimittis, Simeon’s Song.

“Lord lettest now Thy servant depart in peace, according to Thy Word.
For mine eyes have seen Thy Salvation, which Thou hast prepared before
the face of all people.
A Light to lighten the gentiles, and the glory of Thy people Israel.
We praise Thee. We bless Thee. We worship Thee.
We glorify Thee. We give thanks to Thee for Thy great glory.
Amen.”

Years later, when decades of rock and roll have filled my ears and the chants of my childhood have long been set aside, a tragedy comes to our door. Our first child is still born, a little boy a not much longer than my husband’s hand, which holds him on my chest. The diagnosis came before the birth. No abdominal wall. No chest wall. A spine bent and misshapen. We have had time to prepare, and my heart rushes back to those long Sundays in the dim red womb of the chapel. My tongue finds the old songs. We baptize our son in the way of my childhood, the long-established liturgy our guide in this unknown and frightening terrain. Simeon, we name him. Once more we sing the song… 

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My thanks to Jamie Ridler of Starshyne Productions for submitting “How has music influenced you?” as an Ask Magpie question.

Now it’s your turn! How has music influenced you over your lifetime? Tell us in the comments, or add the link to your post.

Ask Magpie is featured (some) Wednesdays and depends on your inquiring mind. “Ask me a question, I’ll tell you no lies!” Thanks for being here.

Posted in Magpie Girl, podcasts, Soulstories
Tags: ask magpie girl, music, podcasts, Soulstories |

i just want to say,
if you are out there today
feeling lonely
and wondering what to do
about your writing or your art, or
your spouse or
your singleness, or your kids
or the lack thereof

if you are out there today
doubting
that your story matters or
that you’ll ever get there or
that you can get there from here

if you are out there today
i just want you to know
that you are enough
and i love you
and that together, we will find
the way to be joyfully extraordinary and
all you have to do
to recieve that reality
is to be out there today.

enough.

Posted in Soulcare, Soulstories
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A few months ago I listened to a TAL episode entitled The Giant Pool of Money. It’s an excellent explanation of the mortgage crises that is sweeping the nation – but for right now that’s neither here nor there. The reason I mention it is that the title burrowed its way into my brain, and now all I can think of is the phrase “A Giant Pool of Wisdom.”  It’s a good phrase, don’t you think? And I am confident that we – you, and I, and all the lurkers out here (Hi lurkers! I love ya!) -can form such a pool. In fact, I know that we already have enough wisdom to fill that pool to overflowing. We’ve just got to share it.

So in our on-going efforts to figure out how to create our own Soultribes, I’m dipping into the pool and bringing up refreshing goodness one ladle at a time. To begin, I’m happy to introduce the very sassy, very funny friend Melissa Lindgren as our first guest in the Soultribe Practitioner Interview Series.  (I know, she’s so fun right? Already you want to be her friend!)

Melissa and I met at our former Soultribe, Monkfish Abbey.  Now she is a Soultribe facilitator hosting a knitting and storytelling group in Seattle, Washington. In this interview she talks about gathering her tribe, adjusting expectations, and figuring out what she values in a Soultribe.

Mis, Could you tell us what kind of Soultribe you belong to: What do you call it? How big is it? How often do you meet? How long have you been together as a group?

For the last 8 months a group of friends and I have come together to knit. We calling it “The Knitting Group” or simply ”Knitting” (I tried “The Knitstas” and “The Knitta’s” but they really didn’t take) It started out with about 15 of us and has shrunk to about 8.  

What was it about story that made you want to form a group around storytelling? What do you think is valuable in sharing our stories?

My University of Washington research has centered on knitting and storytelling as tools to form community. As I’ve drifted further and further away from concrete concepts of spirituality, and even further from conventional forms of church, I was in need of a weekly group that could give my life more rhythm and community. So I started a knitting group and began researching how telling stories and knitting together can form a powerful community.

 I wanted to add stories to a knitting circle, because I’m in the business of stories. It’s what I do. I think there are a lot of things we do that are instinctive to us. And some of us are lucky when our interests also have a long history of being important, as it gives us meaning and a certain sense of legitimacy.

Stories are something so very basically human–they are a way of being remembered, remembering, owning, teaching, loving, laughing, being known…And I am drawn to stories for all of those reasons. But the real reason I included stories in my knitting group is because I love to hear a good story, I’m good at telling my own, and that’s how I wanted to wile the Seattle evenings away.

 It is in no way lost on me that I chose a traditionally women-oriented craft (knitting) with another craft that has a somewhat complicated relationship with women (story-telling/having a voice). My group was really intentioned to be a space that glorified the story more than the storyteller–I wanted to hear well-crafted stories–stories that had a lot of depth, intrigue, humor, and suspense.

What does your typical evening together look like? Who decides what you will do together? Who facilitates?

 I’m the facilitator, I decide. :-) I started this group as a way to get together with my friends and as an independent study for my B.A. in English. The goal was to come together and knit and tell stories. I sent out emails every week telling people the topic of the stories and re-iterating the location (my living room). 

 Though people participated in the story-telling it really wasn’t what was driving the group. So I backed off with the stories and just sort of let the group chit and chat where it wanted. These were decisions i more or less made on my own, but were usually bounced off of a friend or two in the group.

 What kind of people attend? How did you initially find and gather these folks? How do people find you now that you’ve been around for a while?

The kind of people who attend are the out-going-est of my friends who are interested in knitting. I initially invited everyone I wanted to see on a weekly basis, but it has shrunk to people who need some sort of weekly outside social group. Though it sometimes feels like we are cousins with lives completely known to each other, often someone in the group will invite an unknown visitor who we all smother and gawk over. :-) Some people just want a lesson in knitting or are stuck in a project and come to get help and then fade back into their normal Wednesday night routines without us.

 How long did it take your group to gel? What was that process like? If you got to a sticky point where you weren’t sure it was working out, how did you know to press on? When did you know you had “clicked” together?

Hmm. There was a core group that already knew and liked each other. If other people were uncomfortable or weren’t having fun, they just didn’t come back. I often tried to bribe them back because my core group needs to expand itself a little more. My bribes weren’t very bribe-y though.

I had a couple people who came who were young, loud, and didn’t listen to other people’s stories. It was greatly irritating and slightly amusing. But the point, at least at first, was to knit and learn to tell great stories. So the next week, I added that after each story 3 questions would have to be asked to the teller before we could move on to the next story. This was to help our listening skills and our story telling skills (it’s a good practice to examine why we include or exclude certain parts of a story). But the noisy youngin’s didn’t come back. And I eventually took them off the email list. I have to admit I felt relieved when they didn’t come back, but I also felt old. Very very old.  (Rachelle says: I would like to insert here, that Melissa is in her twenties and one of my youngest friends, so the old things is kind of cracking me up.)

Why do you think people come to your group? What does being together do for you? What are the benefits of belonging to this kind of Soultribe?

Right now, people come to hang out. But there were a couple months in there that people came to connect in a soft comfortable way.

I once asked the group what kind of stories they loved to hear and it was always stories that were personal, stories the teller had connected to. When I asked what kind of listener they liked to tell stories to, they described someone who could enjoy the details and the setup, feel sad at the sad parts, feel tense at the build-up, and laugh at the jokes (even if they weren’t the best of jokes).  Basically they not only described themselves, they described someone who could connect to their stories. And that’s why we met for awhile–to connect to each other through our stories.

What did you think your group would be like? How did it actually turn out? What’s that like for you?

I thought all sorts of different friends would come together and eventually we would be the group that when it was your turn to tell a story, you put your knitting down and walked around the room telling these grand stories (and the group size would be about 10-15 of the closest wisest and funniest people).

But really we just sort of sat in our chairs unless getting a snack or asking for help and told stories that almost always started out with “Heh, that reminds me of this one time…”

It was a little sad for me at first. And it made my research project a little harder. But there were several meetings that were exactly what I wanted, which felt great. But it takes a surprising amount of planning, creativity, intentionality and tenacity to get a group of people to willingly do what you want. It’s like herding kittens-or worse, herding children. I mean, most people don’t naturally want to do what you want them to, and this is something worth grappling with. And drinking about.

 What would you have done differently in the early days of your Soultribe? What did you do that worked well in the early days of your Soultribe’s development?

I think I would have been more specific in wanting it to center around stories more. I thought that I could just sort of sneak them in and people would automatically respond with great stories and accolades of “I HAVE FOUND MY VOICE!”  I think I lacked a certain confidence in my desire.

What did work were comfy chairs and snacks. Everytime. And good snacks too. Also, re-assuring people many, many times that it was ok if they didn’t know how, they could learn to knit. Many people learned to knit for the first time, or learned something new.

What other tidbits would you like to add to our giant pool of wisdom?

One thing I wish I would have been told as a kid, was that there is no way one person was going to be everything you needed. Oh the agonizing conversations in my head, “My partner makes me laugh and treats me with so much respect and love…but he doesn’t know how to talk about books…we’re probably not meant to be together!”  I have learned to include more people in my interaction needs. And it has made my relationships so much richer now that the pressure is off.

The same, I think, could be said of Soultribes. I think they are capable of being a central community for people but most likely not the ONLY community–which is something probably more obvious to the group than the facilitator.

Okay now readers, your turn! What ideas and inspirations grabbed you after hearing Melissa’s story? What questions do you have for one another? What are you taking away (or putting in to) the Giant Pool fo Wisdom today? Feel free to muse away in the comments below….

click here to grab a button and build your soultribe.

Posted in Soulcare, Soulstories
Tags: monkfish abbey, Soultribes |

street art on near on my walk home from the school in Copenhagen

Are you going the way of the hawk or the dove? Give it some thought over at my regular Sunday column for BlogHer:

Your Kindergartener Didn’t Kill Jesus, and Neither Did You.

Thanks for being here!

Posted in Soulstories
Tags: Easter, Good Friday, Lent |

NB: Hi everyone. I’ve made a fast and dirty podcast of this post with my silly little microrecorder. It might convey my inention a little better than words on a page alone. Cheers, Rachelle

Listen to the podcast here:

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So, I wrote this article about my Easter discomfort, and it threw me into two worlds. The first world is the one I adore, where recovering evangelicals and other misfit truth-seekers cling to each other and celebrate discovering a (rek)new(ed) way to be. The second world is the world of religious debate, in which people–people who I like and respect and admire–spend a great deal of time trying to convince me that ”we” are wrong and “they” are right.

I get why this is. I get that in the evangelical/fundamentalist world view, there is a Right and a Wrong and never the twain shall meet. Furthermore, for these folks getting things Right is highly valued. In part, this is because not getting it right results in not being right with God, and ultimately in a really long stay in Hell. So it stands to reason that people who hold this worldview want to debate with you about the places where your ideologies and their ideologies do not match up. Of course they want you to come to The Right. They like you. Maybe they even love you. They want you to fix your thinking because they care. They really care.

The problem with this is that we are experiencing cross-cultural dissonance here. Because in the post-modern world, there is not a Right and a Wrong in the same black-and-white sense that there is in modernist country. In the post-modern world truth is not seen as a concrete, attainable goal, but as an intriguing, slippery beast. To post-moderns there is more than one true way of answering the same question–and so the questions, and not the answers are tantamount. In the post-modern zeitgeist, this is fine, because you can hold two different truths in one open palm. But in the modernist milieu, that is not an option.

So, to use a phrase of my father’s “Let me say this about that.“….My target audience is this post-modern group of malcontented seekers. Malcontented Seekers. I know it’s an awkward phrase, but both of these words are important here.

Malcontented: by which I mean “requiring change, discontent.”
Seekers:  by which I mean “not willing to stay in the discontent, but being eager to create/discover something proactive and positive, something (re)new(ed).” 

I have readers who are modernists, and I thank you for being here. But I’m asking you to please remember that you already have a place to belong. A place to live out your beliefs. A place where others share your convictions. It’s a super well established place with lots of support for your way of being. You can live there in comfort. But the others–the malcontented seekers–not so much. They are out there on their own:  beat up and disoriented; hungry and eager; excited to find something new, and more than a little bit sad that they had to leave the former behind. It’s a difficult place to be. And these folks, they need a safe place, and they need to find each other. That’s what I do here. It’s what I strive to achieve. That is mycurrent calling.

So, if you are one of those lucky folks who live happily in a safe and content place;  one of those folks who know the Truth and the Truth works for you; if  you  feel  confident in your understanding of things like Jesus, and Easter, and Sin and Redemption–I’m happy for you. Believe me, we all sometimes wish we were there with you. But we aren’t, and we literally cannot be there again. So please try to understand. We aren’t rejecting you. We aren’t trying to pull you out of what you know, or convince you that you are wrong and we are right. But your language is no longer our language, your culture is no longer our own, and the basis for how you form your understanding of the world — the idea that the Bible holds all the answers, or that faith is cut-and-dry, or that all our holy stories are literally true–these things  are no longer bedrock for us. So we may miss each other a bit, we may not always connect. And that’s okay. We can still be significant one to another. But we need you to let us explore.

What this means for me, personally, is that I won’t always respond to all the comments from modernist Christians. I just can’t. I’m a chronic pain survior, I’m the mother of several, and I’m an ExPat trying to live in a foreign and difficult (for me) culture. That doesn’t leave a lot of energy for me to play with.  The energy I’m left with I am JOYOUSLY compelled to give to my malcontent friends and soulsibilings who’s questions lead them to seek truth in the margins. These are the edge-dwellers and my passion leads me to them — leads us to each other. So their thoughts and concerns will get the bulk of my time. I hope you understand.

That being said, thank you for all who have commented here, and on BlogHer, and on Twitter, and especially on Facebook, where the discussion is the most active. I appreciate your passion, your concern, and your gorgeous hearts and minds.

And to those of you who have come to those same places to be pissy, or sad, or curious, or hopeful, or all of the above–I am so, SO glad you are here. I know that together we can form a giant pool of wisdom that will allow us to create a way of living that doesn’t do damage to our souls.  Come join me on the picnic blanket, and bring your most favorite passions–especially the one’s you’ve had to keep under that mattress until now. We’re going to have fun!

Karin and Lindord my friends, play us out, will ya please? …..

Next up at Magpie Girl:  On authenticity, niceness, and the benefits of being pissy . :-)

Posted in Magpie Girl, podcasts, Soulstories
Tags: Leaving Church, podcasts, Soultribes |

Sorry, I’m having technical difficulties cross-posting this to Magpie Girl. But you can read it at my regular Sunday column over at BlogHer or listen to it as a fast and dirty podcast below. See you over there!

Listen to the podcast here:

Subscribe to Magpie Girl podcasts on Zune, or on iTunes, or via RSS.

Posted in Soulstories
Tags: Easter, Good Friday, Lent |

*8 Things Waiting to be Written.

1. Teaching teens to stand in their own power (without being an ass.)
2. Why I’m embracing my shadow self in my second adolescence (ie. 40). 
3. Why Jesus did not die for you sins, but for his politics…and..why violence is never atoning. 
4. How our doll house saved my sanity when my children were infants. 
5. “Everything You Can Think of Is True”: how Robert Wilson’s rabbit hole rescued me from winter. 
6. Turning to face loneliness and the power it holds.
7. Why I unabashedly love crime dramas and what they are speaking about American culture.
8. Feminism is dead, Long live Feminism. What we still need to teach our kids.

What things are waiting in your heart to be born?

Posted in 8things, Soulstories
Tags: 8Things, on writing |