Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Loving the Places that Hurt


We are hard on ourselves.  We say, “Shape up!  Get a grip.  Grow up!”  Rarely do we say, “Oh sweetie, it’s OK.  You can cry.  Snuggle up here and let your heart break.”
If your little child came running in with a scraped knee or shin, you wouldn't tell them to “Buck up!”  No, you would pick them up and rock them in your arms, cleaning their wound with a soft cloth and putting something gooey and healing on it and then making them a cup of cocoa.  Wouldn't you?

So why not give yourself love when you are falling down weeping and inconsolable?  Why not take ourselves in our own arms, holding and rocking ourselves, cleaning the wound with the soft cloth of mercy and applying something gooey like love to the place that hurts?  Maybe make yourself a piece of toast or a cup of tea?

The places that hurt are simply expressions of our own heart’s longing to be held and comforted.  “Get over it!” is not the prescription for a broken heart.  Rather, embrace it, smoother it with kisses.  Let your heart cry and weep and heal in the comfort of your love.

When you love yourself, something magic happens.  Something loves you back.  Or put another way, “When you find the love, you find yourself.” – Sidi al Jamal

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Who is the Farm of Peace?


The Farm of Peace is an oasis, a place of rest and refreshment.  It is a hope, a dream, a prayer.  It is a sanctuary.  We create it for ourselves, for our friends, our brothers and sisters, our children and their children, for the world’s children.  It is a quiet place away from a dizzying world.
Who is the Farm of Peace?  We are the Farm.  We carry the message.  We carry it in our hearts and convey it in our thoughts, our words and deeds.  We come to the Farm to drink and to refresh ourselves, our sense of purpose and our connection; and we carry that into the world.
We are stewards of this beautiful gift.  Those who live on or near the Farm and all those who visit, strive to honor the deep commitment made to this vision and to keep the physical place vibrant.  There are roads to maintain, clear, plow and resurface.  There are animals to feed, lambs to birth, and sheep to slaughter.   There are bees to raise, honey to extract, eggs to gather, gardens to hoe, plant, weed and harvest.  There are fruit trees to nourish, protect and enjoy.  There are berries to plant and pick; pies to make and muffins to bake.  There are lessons to plan, children to teach, games to play and hikes to take.  There are trees to fell, logs to split, wood to carry and fires to build.
And then there are hearts to mend.  There are workshops to hold, announcements to make, mailing lists to update, newsletters to write, messages to send, phones to answer.  There are windows to wash, beds to change, floors to mop, laundry to wash, dry and put away.  And there are meals to prepare, shopping to do, menus to plan, tables to set and kitchens to clean. There are practices at dawn and prayers five times each day, dhikrs twice a week with Jumuah on Friday.  And there are special events each summer when our holy guide pays us a visit or children come to play in week-long camps. 
And all this is done in service to the vision, to create a place of peace and renewal for all those who wish to come.  But the land in Warfordsburg is not the Farm.  We are the Farm.  Each of us is the Farm.  The Farm of Peace, the non-profit is you and me and we are what make up the Farm of Peace.

Our Sweet Bonnie


Words are such helpless little mechanisms for trying to convey the deeper emotions.  They are great in baseball: “And the hitter smashes one out of the park!” No doubt we all know what that looks and feels like.  But loss is a whole other ballgame.
Loss is so personal, so individual.  There is no one but you who knows those moments you cherish or when those moments will come roaring to the surface tearing at the fabric of your day, leaving you weak and weeping.  Only you know the personal, intimate details of the life you shared with your beloved.  So no comfort I can offer will every really hit the mark, only this.
Those moments of searing memory are a blessing and in time you will welcome each as an honored guest because in those moments your loved one is fully present; not just a memory but alive and real and tangible in your heart and mind.  And secondly, you will come to know that you are never really separated; you will come to know her in every branch and leaf and limb, every blue sky and white cloud, every sunset, every sunrise, every smile that says love to you, every gesture that was hers and hers alone.
I wish I could be with you on Saturday, in person, but will have to simply be there in spirit in the love and shared memory of our sweet Bonnie.  So as my mother said to us each night as she tucked us in, “May God bless Your Heart,” may God bless each of you as you remember, release and let go because Bonnie has just hit a home run!  

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Spiritual Writing—Healing Through the Pen


“So it is time to begin.  Just open and let the words flow.  Listen for the inner direction, feel the sensation and write.”—Jamila Davies
This is the practice—writing from the heart—using the written word to open yourself to deep healing, something you can put on paper in your own words but linked to your soul. 
The power of journaling is that it allows me to express and release powerful emotions on the page and once on paper, to gain a perspective, something that isn’t always possible while the chaos rages around inside.  In her book Writing Down the Bones, Natalie Goldberg, says, “This book is about writing.  It is also about using writing… as a way to help you penetrate your life and become sane.”  Writing Down the Bones was first published in 1986 and revolutionized the way writing is taught in this country.  Nearly thirty years later it is still one of the top writing books sold. 
Writing for me has always been about writing to know what I am feeling, writing to get in touch with the deepest sense of my own being and deepest wisdom.  Judith Guest, author of Ordinary People wrote, “Writers do not write to impart knowledge; rather, they write to inform themselves.”
I have 40 years of journals in two trunks in my living.  Often writing is a chance to wail on the page to find my way to the truth, often a scorching, careening dive into the secrets of my soul.  Other times it is a “things to do” list, a prescription for getting my life together: diet, exercise, cut my hair, color my hair, fall in love, fall out of love, forget everything—do nothing! 
However, there are times when journaling is a transcendent connection to the energy of the universe.  I connect with something that is both me and beyond me and for those few moments, feel a connection to the very fabric of life, consciousness itself.  But these moments are few and far between, like a runner’s high, something that happens spontaneously and unbidden after years of running but only now and then. 
Now it seems I have found a way to tap into this transcendental connection more easily, beyond my idea of who and what I think I am, to the essence of who I am.  And that way is through spiritual writing or writing from the heart.
What is spiritual writing?  It begins with a practice called “Remembrance,” a Sufi practice of repeating the name of God in the silence of my own heart and opening to what is deepest in me in that moment and then beginning to write, using the principles Goldberg outlined in her book called “writing without stopping.” 
The combination of “Remembrance” and “writing without stopping” produces insights and breakthroughs not usually experienced without years of writing practice.  Even those who have been writing for years say the process allows for more insight and epiphanies.  Writing from the heart breaks down the barriers and allows me to connect to my most intimate self and to reveal that wisdom or insight on the page as if God is revealing Himself to me in my own words.
This shift in my consciousness, of opening my heart to directly perceive that deep voice of wisdom within me, allows me to more easily let go of my idea of how things should be and open fully to the almost magical experience of how things are.  Spiritual writing is a tool that helps me make this transition. 
My sister once said, after birding for hours on Sauvie Island, a beautiful wildlife refuge on the Columbia River near Portland, Oregon, that something shifted inside her and she became aware of a sensation that she described as “nuzzling the cheek of Power.”  In that open exchange between herself and the beauty she witnessed, she came face to face with that Divine essence.  The same is true of spiritual writing.  Through an open exchange with my own deepest self, I come face to face—I open the door and God steps in.