I want to open this post by saying “thank you for being here.” It is so satisfying to know that on the other end of these little letters is a person who opens and reads them. I hope that you find something here that inspires you, ignites you and maybe even stretches you a bit.
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This month’s post has 3 parts.
1) First, I share a poem by Rumi that has touched my heart entitled βSpring.β
2) Second, I share this monthβs spiritual creative exercise in the hopes that it will inspire you to play. Take the direction verbatim or be inspired to create your own activity.
3) And lastly, I share a reflection from my latest Spiritual Direction session. If you arenβt a fan of theological reflections, feel free to skip this part. As always, take what serves you and leave what doesnβt.
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Spring by Rumi
Again, the violet bows to the lily.
Again, the rose is tearing off her gown!
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The green ones have come frm the other world,
tipsy like the breeze up to some new foolishness.
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Again, near the top of the mountain
the anemoneβs sweet features appear.
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The hyacinth speaks formally to the jasmine,
βPeace be with you.β βAnd peace to you, lad!
Come walk with me in this meadow.β
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Again, there are sufis everywhere!
The bud is shy, but the wind removes
her veil suddenly, βMy friend!β
The Friend is here like water in the stream,
like a lotus on the water.
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The narcissus winks at the wisteria,
βWhenever you say.β
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And the clove to the willow, βYou are the one
I hope for.β The willow replies, βConsider
these chambers of mine yours. Welcome!β
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The apple, βOrange, why the frown?β
βSo that those who mean harm
will not see my beauty.β
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The ringdove comes asking, βWhere,
where is the Friend?β
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With one note the nightingale
indicates the rose.
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Again, the season of Spring has come
and a spring-source rises under everything,
a moon sliding from the shadows.
Many things must be left unsaid, because itβs late,
but whatever conversation we havenβt had
tonight, weβll have tomorrow.
(translation by Coleman Barks)
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This monthβs creative spiritual exercise comes from a variation on a theme of The Artistβs Way by Julia Cameron.
In week 7, we are asked to list 5 of our favorite movies and 5 of our favorite subjects to read about. It seems like a basic task. But the medicine in this particular assignment is to remember something we may have let go of as blocked artists: first loves. That place of creative joy and delight. For many of us, the only acceptable way to access this space has been through other people’s art; film, books, music. And it is the last of these three that we focused on in this month’s Artistβs Way Alumni Group.
(For those who are new to this space, the Artistβs Way Alumni Group is a monthly gathering of women who have journeyed through the Monastic Mamas 14-week Artistβs Way Group and desire to continue to meet regularly with other women versed in the language of “The Artistβs Way” to continue on their Spiritual Creative path.)
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Reflection on A Song: Creating Art From Artβ
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1) Print the lyrics to a song that has meant something to you. Pick a piece that has emotionally moved you, either recently or in a certain season of life. You are also going to want some art supplies (collage materials, paints, glitter, glue, stickers β¦ whatever feels playful and fun to you) and one sturdy piece of paper to use as your canvas.
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2) Since music hits right to the heart of emotion, we want to use the particular song you have chosen and translate that energy into a piece of art. For those of us who live in our analytical minds (dat me!), this connection with ourselves through art can be a really powerful way to identify and connect with our emotions.
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3) Listen to your song once through. Close your eyes. Let your body move to the music. Lay on the floor and let the music wash over you. Whatever feels good.
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4) Using your lyrics, pick 5 favorite words or phrases from your song that speak to you and write them down. Now, represent them on your paper. You can draw, watercolor, rip paper to collage, doodle words, etc. This does not have to be a literal representation. Let it come from that secret place in your heart.
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5) Take a second look at your song. Are any words or phrases particularly tender, painful, beautiful, or stirring? Find some way to represent these feelings on your paper.
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6) Are there any words or phrases that feel particularly hopeful or joyful in your song? Write them down and give them some space in your picture.
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7) Take one last read through your lyrics and add anything to your picture that you might like to represent.
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This visual represents a piece of someone else’s art and the way your life experiences interact and intersect with that art to create something new. This is creative alchemy.
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Spiritual Direction & My Easter Journey: Through Pain Towards Wholeness
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I meet with my spiritual director, Zinia, once a month. Her slight British accent and large eyes accentuated by thin-rimmed glasses always make me feel at peace.
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Zinia asks how Iβd like to begin. Iβm used to directing others through these sorts of experiences. Having someone else ask me how Iβd like to be led feels at once scary and so very loving.
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This week, I shared an opportunity I have to expand my work within the intersection of spirituality and creativity.
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We talked about resistance. It seems to be a big part of my journey. Specifically, my resistance around stepping back into a faith community. This theme has come up again and again over the past 4 months. After talking through some of this resistance, Zinia asked me if I wanted to do a little theological digging. Being an analytical, I love digging into theological reflection. Being a Spiritual Director, Zinia knew she was taking me into deeper waters.
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After talking a bit about this resistance, I was to think of the first Scriptural idea that came to mind. It was automatic. The first thought is always the true thought. I saw Jesus on the cross.
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Zinia asked me to hold that image; to identify what sensations were in my body when I thought on it. Very quickly, I felt a slipping in my spine and saw an image of a curving, snaking backbone. I began to offer an analysis. She quickly (and gently) reminded me that this wasnβt my task at the moment.
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Next, she asked me to identify my emotions. Iβm embarrassed to say that this was incredibly difficult for me. So much so, that she had to screen share an emotion chart. The words leapt from the page. “Blah.” “Morose.” “Moody.” “Somber.” “Anxious.” “Fidgety.”
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She asked me to explore the curvy, snaking spine. What might it represent?
“On one hand, it represents a sort of flexibility and fluidity. This is something I value highly in my life and work.”
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But as I reflected further, it also felt like a collapse waiting to happen. A lack of support.
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She then asked me to go back to my vision of Jesus on the cross. Where did my focus go when I thought of that image? Once again, it came so quickly. My focus was on his chest. The trunk of his body. His breathing. β
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I remember reading that in order to catch a breath, Jesus would have had to rely on a source of immense pain, a tapered 7-inch iron spike through his feet. This seemed so poignant. To accomplish his mission of radical love, Jesus had to literally rely on and take support from a wound.
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I saw where this was going. I wasnβt sure I was ready.
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After this reflection, Zinia asked me where I could find wholeness and healing in this vision.
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Wholeness? There is none! This is brokenness! Defeat. Donβt ask me to move to Easter so quickly.
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But she wasnβt. She was asking me to see if in this image of Christ, I could find a place of hope and a word of truth and love.
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The tears began to fall.
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The point of greatest pain in my faith walk has not been disappointment with God, itβs been disappointment with people.
People misunderstand. People choose not to show up when it gets too hard, too dark, too inconvenient. I do it too.
But, like Jesus, it seems that the source of pain is also my path to wholeness and purpose.
The tears again.
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As I cried and spoke, I realized that in my work with Monastic Mamasβwhich has really become something that I hope and pray goes way beyond myselfβI want to leave a legacy but I donβt ever want it to hurt. I want to stay safe. I want to be insulated from pain brought by disappointment and rejection. I want to keep my own faith community at bay because I’m scared of being hurt … again.
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But I also see that the thing I’ve been running from is the thing I need most at this point in my journey for wholeness. I need to open myself up to the possibility of community again. I need to open to the good and the not so good.
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Friends, the work of creating and putting ourselves out there is not always safe.
The role of the prophet artist requires some sacrifice. And, as Iβm learning, it also requires other people.
It requires a certain element of submission (damn, I hate that word) and trusting in other people.
I hope that in sharing my own journey, you will find some word of encouragement as well.
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This Easter, I am reflecting on the death of Jesus.
His lack of resistance.
His willingness to bear pain as a witness to self-sacrificing love.
And I am softened.
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If you are looking for an Easter reflection, I am sharing a podcast I published in 2021 entitled, βWill you look again? An Easter Reflectionβ
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Be Blessed,
Jaime Summer Handley 