Writing about Soultribes has got me to reminiscing about my last clan, Monkfish Abbey. Here are *8 Things the monkfishers gave me, which I will treasure always.

1. The Poet Chill Out CD Isreal made for us.
2. A binder full of soup recipes.
3. Six months of living with Rebecca.
4. The fun of watching Ammelia and Lindell negotiate themselves into a relationship.
5. Discovering lectio divina and adding collage.
6. Prayer Flags.
7. A collection of seasonal practices which still support my family.
8. Good memories from the artistic pagans at Fremont Arts Council.

What *8 Things has your last, past, or current Soultribe given you?

basking in the glow of passover with my monkfish abbey soultribe

This is an ongoing series about How to Build Your Soultribe. Click here for step one and step two, or follow me on Twitter for notification when a new post is up. To listen to this post click here.

A couple weeks ago, Portland artist Jolie Guillebeau wrote to me via Twitter:

“I have a dilemma and I wonder if you can help. How do you properly grieve the loss of your Soultribe, without being bitter?”

Ah, the ten million dollar question!

Part of getting ready for your new Soultribe involves saying goodbye to your old one. I’ve been a part of several meaningful tribes in my past: small groups at church that became and extended family; a group of friends who wanted to build a co-housing together; a group of seekers trying to provide soulcare to one another over beer, bread, and a bowl of soup. Each one of them brought me the gifts I needed at the time I needed them. But leaving them was difficult. The first was closed out of exhaustion. The second ended after mysterious interpersonal fall-outs. The third ended when we decided to move overseas. Each goodbye came with a confusing mix of emotions: anger, gratitude, fear, expectation, sadness, relief.

I am not known for making a graceful exit. I stay too long until I am sick and bitter; or I rush to leave too abruptly. But I am learning a little about leaving a Soultribe–what you take with you, and which bits you have to unpack before you can feel at home again.

Unpacking the Anger
We often leave our Soultribe because of a falling out. This is sad, but what’s the point of pretending it’s not true? Religious groups fight over doctrine. Communes collapse under the strain of what to do with the common purse. Writer’s groups get fed up with each other’s feedback. It happens, and it’s maddening. Here are two things I find helpful in dealing with anger.

1) Honor your Anger. The best way to get bitter is to ignore your angry feelings. Many of you know that I used to have an anger altar in my backyard where I could throw plates at a heap of stones. That’s because I believe anger packs a lot of heat, and discharging that energy can be helpful. But if you can’t find a place to break things, you can honor your anger in other ways. Tell a friend your anger story. Write it down. Collage an image of it. Give it a great big seat of honor on your mantelpiece. I promise it will help.

2) Find the Primary Emotion. Once when I was very angry, a friend told me “anger is a secondary emotion.” At the time, I wanted to throw something hard at his head. But later I realized how helpful this advice was. Anger is indeed real – but it is also a cloaking device. The red hot heat of anger hides other more primary emotions behind its flashy showmanship. When I am angry, and I’ve already ranted and raged in some plate breaking sort of way, I then complete the dealing-with-anger practice. I sit down, usually with a pen and a notebook. I close my eyes. I thank my anger for being an early warning system. Then I ask it to step aside so I can see what is behind it. (Hurt feelings? Not feeling listened to? Disappointment?) Then I get to work on paying attention to that emotion. It works every time.

To Every Season, Change, Change, Change
When I was in my twenties I spent a few weeks at JPUSA—a commune in the poorest part of Chicago. JPUSA had been around since the era of the Jesus Freaks. I was in awe. These people had lived common purse, in families of choice, at poverty level for decades. That was the kind of community I longed for – one rooted in service and place—one with longevity.

What I did not understand was that Soultribes exist for a season. They serve a certain purpose for a certain time. And while some like JPUSA go on for a long time, the reality is their membership is in constant flux. People come and go. Relationships change. Goals alter. And you know what? That’s how it’s meant to be.

Sometimes it’s that the group dynamic which changes, and what you started with morphs into something strange and unfamiliar. Sometimes you change and what once fit and supported you no longer serves you well. When that happens there are three things I find helpful

1) Make a Good Ending. If a group blows up in a mess of bad feelings, this may not be possible. But if you are attentive to the seasonal shifts in yourself and in your group, you can take your leave in a way that creates shalom rather than illness. To make a good ending: give plenty of notice; carve out some time with the tribe to remember what you’ve done together; express thanksgiving to the people you shared so much life with. This can be both incredibly restorative, and emotionally draining—but it’s worth it.

2. Make space for sadness. Leaving your Soultribe often brings about a sense of sadness and loss. Grieving takes time, comes in cycles, and needs you to honor it. One of my favorite tricks for dealing with this process is a shrine for sadness. The simplest version is to clear a space on your window sill (I like to give the process sunlight and fresh air), find a pretty bowl, and gather some pebbles. Every time you remember something sad, or recall something you miss about your community, put a stone in the bowl. What this communicates to your soul is: this is real, this is what you are supposed to feel, there is a space for this sadness.

3) Memorialize The Real. Sometimes when a community closes you can get thrown into a cycle of self-doubt. Was it really as good as you remembered? Were you ever really friends? Had it actually ever fed you? Because we humans are complicated, any tribe we build is a mixed bag. But it’s rare that something you’ve lived in has been a complete bust. Don’t let your gremlins tell you otherwise! Find a way to memorialize the good about your lost tribe. Write a list of true things on a long coil of paper. Make a slide show of your photographs from that era. Read your journal from the time you spent with them. These things will help you remember The Real, and embody the message that while your tribe was not permanent, it was valuable and treasured.

What Soultribe have you left behind? What did you experience? How did you take your leave? What tricks do you have to help you mourn, remember, and celebrate?

My dreamboard for January, embodying my new mantra.

How’s that experiment with making space for your Soultribe going? Have you baked some bread? Cleared some clutter? Made the place smell good? Good for you! (If not, that’s okay. It’s not a race or anything. We’ll wait up.)

Step Two: Using your Words to Creating Emotional Space

Now that you’ve made some physical space for your Soultribe, it’s time to create some emotional atmosphere as well. You know how sometimes you walk into a room, and it just feels right? Maybe it’s someone’s living room that always feels like a hug. Or maybe your massage therapists’ practice room is just the right balance of professionalism and coziness. Or it could be that your yoga studio is just so perfectly Zen. You can create that kind of emotive space for your Soultribe too!

Have you ever heard a parent working with a screaming toddler? You might hear the parent say: “Honey, you have to use your words.” Emotions can be big, very big. Even the good ones can be hard to pin down. So what we are going to do in step two, is find some words that will nuture the kind of emotional feel you want your Soultribe to have.

Here are three kinds of energy that lives in some of the Soultribe spaces I’ve visited. These are just ideas to help you get a picture of what you might like to see grow now that you’ve vested your charming space.

1) The vibrant, challenging energy that encourages discussion and intellectual discourse.
2) The passionate, hot energy that flows amongst a group dedicated to social action.
3) The warm nurturing energy that pools in a group dedicated to encouragement and discernment.

Each of these groups would have a different vibe, a different emotional temperature or texture. Anchoring yourself now in the emotional texture you would like to experience with your Soultribe will help put you solidly on the path that’s unfolding in front of you. And thankfully, it’s not that hard.

How to Write a Mantra

So get quiet for just a minute and ask yourself this question. When I am in this room with my Soultribe, what kind of emotional feeling do I want to be sitting in? Okay, just think about it for a minute or two. Now start writing down emotive words. At least ten, I think. Don’t over-think it. This works best quick and dirty on a piece of scratch paper. If any sneak in there that make you feel like you have to include them to “do it right” or “to be official” or because “you should”, toss those puppies out right away. Those are most likely institutional leftovers you don’t need. We are working with fresh ingredients here.

Once you’ve got your list, scan it and circle the three words that seem to float up to the top. Again, don’t over-think it. This is intuitive work. We don’t want our monkey minds getting in there and stirring things up.

Now this is the best part, which I just recently picked up from the Other Laura. Make your three words into a mantra. For instance, mine right now is warmthgentlenessstablity. (That’s how I see it when I chant it—all as one word/breath like that.)

Now, for the next few weeks try saying your mantra at least 4 times a day:

1) Say your mantra upon waking up. The bedroom is the nest of your home. Speak these words into it and root your day in that emotional reality.

2) Say your mantra at the door when you return home and in your entry way. The door and entry are a symbol of welcome. Bath them in this emotional atmosphere – as a sign of welcome to yourself and your Soultribe.

3) Say your mantra when you sit down for dinner. The table is a symbol of hospitality and gathering. Wrap it in your good intentions by “setting” it with the gift of these words.

4) Say your mantra at bedtime. This layers the very place where you lay your head with these positive emotions and brings the day full circle. (If your mantra is very energizing, you may want to skip this time so it doesn’t disrupt your sleep.

Finally, say your mantra whenever you practice vesting your space, or whenever thoughts, dreams, or worries about your future Soultribe arrive.

Why it works

Now, this is not a researched answer or anything. It’s just my opinion based on personal experience. I think saying a mantra works in the following ways:

• It affects the way your brain is thinking about a given situation. Now you are not just a person lacking a tribe, but a person who is creating a sacred atmosphere for your Soultribe to gather. It literally changes your reality. I think it shifts something on the cognitive and the behavioral level. It’s good stuff!

• It solidifies your values to create a solid base on which to build something new, giving you more stability and confidence.

• It opens your eyes, heart, and thoughts to opportunities and possibilities. Gradually you will start noticing the resources that are in front of you, the intriguing people that are crossing your path, the articles that mentioned just what you needed to hear, and the dozens of kismet moments that cross your path. You tune in to what God and The Universe are doing.

Okay, so now we are two steps in towards creating our Soultribe. Please let me know how things are going: What’s working for you, and what’s not. What questions are coming up for you. What tools you are realizing you need in your kit. What unexpected tasks come up along the way. Together, we will find our way to our Motherland.

Yours on the Journey,

Rachelle

Welcome to 2009, The Year of the Soultribe! Follow all the related posts by clicking “soultribe” in my tag cloud, or following me on Twitter, where I’ll announce new posts.

A few weeks ago Kazari sent in a question for Advice Girl. Kazari likes the idea of a Dreamboarding Circle, and she dug reading up on our soulcare community, Monkfish Abbey, back in the States. In the end her question boiled down to this:

So I guess the question that I have is, where can I find people like you in real life? Or, how do I go about helping such a community to grow in my own house?

Or, more basically, what do I do with this spiritual crisis I grew all by myself? I feel like I need a community to help sort it all out.

This is not the first time I’ve been asked this. It happens quite often. Even more often people write to me about how badly their church fits them, or how worn down they are from trying to find their spiritual “place.” Most of the time those folks resign themselves to one of two things: leaving, or staying somewhere that is a very poor fit – somewhere that pinches their toes, leaves blisters on their heels and keep them from reaching the mountain top because, damn it, their feet hurt too bad to climb on up there!

Soulsiblings, this is the year to build our tribes. No more wandering about on our own, or cramming ourselves into institution and ideologies that no longer fit. This, my friends, is not for us. It’s time to move on – or perhaps more precisely it’s time to move in: to move in to the territory that is truly our own, to put some holes in the wall and hang up our oil paintings, to stick pictures on the fridge. It’s time to make our souls at home.

In the upcoming weeks and months, I will be writing posts that in one way or another have to deal with forming your Soultribe. Grant it, they might be only tangentially related, and of course there will be rabbit trails along the way. But over all, this will be the theme.

So here’s your first assignment: make space for your tribe. Rites and rituals are powerful because they take an abstract idea and make it physical. When you can see, touch, smell, hear or taste your dream, it becomes solid, it becomes real. So make a physical space in your home for your Soultribe. How? Here are two suggestsions

Vest your space. Do something once each week, every week, for at least one month that communicates welcome and gathering to you. Maybe you stack the magazines and fluff the pillows every Monday. Maybe you bake a loaf of bread on Friday night. Perhaps you replace all the candles and light up the room on Sunday.

In liturgical traditions, before a priestess officiates at a service, she dons the robes and stoles of her office. This is called putting on her vestments. When you prepare a space for a holy purpose you vest your space – you prepare the space so that something sacred can get born. What very simple thing could you do as a one-month experiment in vesting your space?

Send an Invitation. Nothing anchors me into a new reality like building a shrine. I’ve made them to quiet my demons, to honor my anger, and to let go of my burdens. Most recently I made one as an invitation to my Soultribe. It consists of a dollhouse chair, a tea light, and my December dreamboard. It took about ten minutes. Well, a couple days of musing about it, then ten minutes to set it up. It’s on the window sill behind my desk and every time I sit down at my computer, I light the candle and as I blow out the match I see that breath as a whisper of welcome. I’m making space for whoever The Muse or The Universe wants to bring my way. (I’m so curious to see what happens!) What object symbolize tribe to you? What things communicate welcome and belonging? Where can you gather them to indicate your openness to the in-gathering that is to come?

What will you do to make space for your Soultribe? Let us know in the comments and put a picture up at our Soulshrine Flickr group.

More questions from the birthday project!

Maggie Ann asks: My question is along these lines: What brought about the shift in your spiritual ideology? As it has shifted how have you reconciled it to those close to you who still follow your previous belief system?

Church stopped working for me. First sermons became meaningless. Then worship music stopped meaning anything. Prayer bottomed out — I felt like I was just worrying and pleading all the time.
Then…I fell in love with art. Jesus became more real to me – a real person with passions and errors and compulsion. I started seeing wisdom in other people’s belief system. People-who-were-not-Christians acted more Jesus-y than a lot of the Christian I knew. Loved lived in a thousand places.

(My NaNoWriMo project is a book about how this shift happens, how to survive it, and what to do next. Keep your fingers crossed!)

I don’t know if I’ve really “reconciled” with people from my former religious world. If you make this kind of post-religious leap, reconcilation may not be the goal so much as…um…peacekeeping? It’s more like we’ve made a pact to not debate each other. My general practice is to try and hold more than one truth in the same open palm. This is a key tenent of postmodernity. I don’t always manage to do this well, but it’s a goal of mine. I may not like what people who are close to me believe–or how they try to force those beliefs onto others–but I can give them space in this world to have their beliefs which differ from mine. I can even see the beauty in the old belief system when it works for the people I love (“praxis” again). When it doesn’t work, and people still feel obligated to force themselves into it—that makes me sad. I feel a lot of sorrow, and sometimes anger around this.

Jen P asks: Do you distinguish God (in you internal experience anyway) from your own intuition and if so, how?

Honestly, not really. I see my intuitive voice as the voice of the Spirit, who I like to call The Muse. Since I’ve been practicing trusting my intuitive wisdom more, I’ve learned to distinguish the energy of intuition from the energy of impulsiveness and/or panic. Initially these all felt the same to me. Intuitive knowledge has a lower, deeper hum to it. It feels more grounded – like a really solid tree pose in yoga. Panic or impulsiveness that is not rooted in wisdom feels more frantic and desperate. Intuition is compelling, not desperate.

Jennifer (a former Monkfisher) asks: What is your spiritual community like where you are now – are you finding soul friend?

I would say it’s in development. I don’t think the church we pop in and out of will ever be our main spiritual community. It’s sweet and the pastor is great, but we are only kind of clicking there. I like the liturgy and the ambience — except for the giant crucifix. The little Dreamboarding Circle that’s forming in our living room is quite nice, and I can see some soul friendships forming there. A lot of my community – spiritual and otherwise—is on line these days, which I’m not accustomed to, but I’m enjoying it right now. I’m kind of enjoying the solitude right now.

MotherHenna asks: When a grief comes, how does it affect you? Has your ability to process and integrate grief and joy, love and loss been affected/shifted by a) being an expat and/or b) you changing spiritual beliefs? If you could teach someone else anything about the experience of grief, what would that lesson be?

I love how Kara sandwhiches the questions about living abroad and changing spiritual beliefs between two questions about grief. She’s really been paying attention! (Thanks Mother Henna!)

Grief comes in waves. You can’t just sit down and process it all out, then move on. It comes and goes, flares suddenly, then slips away. It’s tricksy, that grief.

Grief affects me in a strong physical way. I get a lot of tension on the soft palate of my mouth and in my throat. Because of this I’ve been known to describe grief as “ a wolf at my throat.” I have to swallow a lot. My chest feels heavy and I have certain sensation sort of under my ribs at my diaphragm that I can’t quite explain. Emotionally, I get very quiet and very sad. Physcially I tend to hold my body small and still. When I’m grieving I often find myself sobbing –a very primal sobbing. This especially hits me late at night. I often get frozen creatively when I am grieving. Usually I just have to pay attention to grief, give it my tithe of tears, and wait for it to pass.

I’m more present to both grief and joy now that I live abroad. There are less distractions here, and less obligations, so both grief and joy loom larger. I don’t know that the change in my spiritual beliefs have effective my experience of grief or joy in particular. Anger though, that’s another story…

The graduate school I attended was very attentive to grief. I learned a lot there about paying attention and giving grief its due, because grieving and mourning are so important to the healing process. The two things I most often teach people about grief are:

1) it comes in waves not stages. Just as you can’t know when a rouge wave might knock you off your feet at the beach, nor can you know when grief will swell. Pay attention when it comes. Let is receed when it’s done.

2) In regards to grief that is associated with a death, I often tell people that you never ‘get over’ a loss like the death of a loved one (or other kinds of death.) A loss creates a hole in the ground. In time, the soil starts to erode back in and the edges soften, but you never ‘get over it.’ Instead you learn to live a new way, with this space as one part of your life’s whole.

Next set of Q’s with thier A’s: life goals and other quirks…

This is my dreamboard for September’s full moon.

I believe: time around the dinning table is sacred; lighting candles on the windowsill is ritual; a flock of friends in a cozy home is essential.

Since moving to Denmark 9 months ago we have been lonely. A lot of our time has been spent adjusting to a new culture and just learning our way around, so at first we were okay with the solitude. Hiding out with our nuclear family was sort of novel and refreshing those first few weeks, but now it’s “ikke sa godt.” (not so good.) When we first came here I was burned out from over-hosting — too many dishes, too many personalities, too much dirt tracked across the living room floor. It was good to rest for awhile. But now we are ready to gather a little flock in our home. Flock gathering is kind of my superpower.

We are accustomed to being the hub for friendly gatherings, and I have sent out an invitation for monthly gatherings in our home through the Fall and Winter. I’ve also invited a group of women to come dreamboard around my dinning room table each month. Monday is our first one and I made a dreamboard in advance, because I know my hostessing energy will be too bustle-y to make mine on the actualy night. So here it is — my dream of a tiny flock of lovlies in a cozy home. The words on the left are in Danish and mean “welcome,” “sacred,” and “cozy.” You can see the whole thing better here.

Well, shall we say “Amen, let it be so”? I think so. I do indeed.