Finally, March is here. In Indiana there are winds, rains, snows, heat, and cold . . . sometimes all within a 24 hour period. Just now, I am looking out my window in my backyard. I imagine the lush greenery of a covering of hostas, hydrangeas, and some native Midwestern species that will be fully displayed. And there will be birds, rodents, mammals, and insects of different kinds. In other beds around the driveway and elsewhere, I imagine juicy tomatoes (the Burpee catalog will guide me in this year's planting) as well as green and red peppers, herbs of all kinds, lettuce, and even juicy blueberries. I love working in the soil with the many inhabitants of my little plot of Indiana land. All of the creatures teach me about themselves and me.
Another person who revels in her backyard and has celebrated it in memorable, eloquent prose is Ruth Renkl of Nashville, TN. Her 2023 publication, The Comfort of Crows: A Backyard Year (Spiegel and Grau), has been celebrated in book reviews and excellent sales. It took me three months to get my reserved copy from the Indianapolis Public Library because it had many requests. Impatiently, I waited for my borrowed copy for a few weeks. If you resonate with the rhythms and cycles of nature, this is a book you should read. It will provide you with objects of mindfulness and curiosity to examine, think about and to consider in your spiritual journey. The New York Times published an enthusiastic review of The Comfort of Crows. Here is the link to that article. The down side of adding the link is that saavy marketing people have inserted some ads at key places in the article. But it is worth this advertising discomfort. Read the review, and get your name on your library's reserved book list. Or better yet, buy a copy! https://www.nytimes.com/2023/10/25/books/booksupdate/margaret-renkl-comfort-crows.html?unlocked_article_code=1.aE0.ebTi.9hFXk6mMR4Q2&smid=url-share --March 4, 2024 |
During the past three years, I experienced the loss of membership in an Episcopal Church non-residential monastic community, the Community of the Gospel. On September 29, 2021, I submitted my resignation as the Guardian of the community and as a member. The reason I gave was badgering and interference by the previous Guardian and Founder, who seemed to have discovered that he did not like being one member among others. I learned of backroom collusion among some of the members. I decided that in my late seventies, I had better things to do with my energy than try to fix a broken organization. A relationship of almost fourteen years ended.
It was the right decision. But, I quickly found that in this personality-based organization, I would be shunned, even by people I considered to be dear friends. I loved the Community of the Gospel and wanted to see it thrive as it managed the succession from founder to the next leader. For months after my resignation, I replayed events and wondered why I would wake up some mornings at 3 AM feeling a deep void in the pit of my soul. Outwardly, I came off as having my act together. But, inside, I was grieving the loss of friendship and role. I kept wondering what might have been. I felt profoundly betrayed by both the founder and the members. At first, I thought I was dealing with a flaw in my faith and personality. Shouldn't I be forgiving, no matter what? My inner critic would say that what happened was my own doing. Wasn't it my ego that got in the way? On the first anniversary of the resignation, I concocted a plan to cast a stone symbolically representing the event into a lake in the Canadian wilderness with my partner Frank as a witness. Maybe throwing that stone into a remote forest lake's deep, cold waters would take the weight off my shoulders. A sign near the lake I had selected informed visitors that it was a bog, not a lake and that visitors were asked not to throw objects into it. So much for my symbolic act! Everything reverted to the heaviness and pain of unresolved grief and loss. But several months ago, I read a new book that was getting rave reviews in the religious press and among spiritual directors: When Religion Hurts You: Healing from Religious Trauma and the Impact of High-Control Religion, by Laurie Anderson(Brazos, 2023), a trauma-informed psychotherapist, and founder of the Center for Trauma Resolution and Recovery. Before I read Dr. Anderson's book, I usually associated the word "trauma" with sexual abuse or return from active war zones such as Iraq or football game mishaps that "traumatized" a body part. However, Anderson makes clear that trauma is something that can happen due to many kinds of abuse. It is the body's way of protecting itself and remembering. A response to abuse can embed or bake itself into our bodies. It is never apart from the body. Now I can see that what I have experienced since 2021 was trauma and not some inadequate faith response that I should blame myself for or allow myself to be shamed by. Anderson states that the usual way the body responds to a high-control religion (HCR) act of abuse is to freeze, fight, or flee. I see traces of all three responses in my reactions. Knowing that I am dealing with an embodied trauma makes a massive difference to me. It is no longer a matter of "getting over it." Instead, I can name what is going on in my body, notice physical signs that the trauma triggers, and do the slow work of repairing and reconstructing my life. In my spiritual direction practice, I meet people deconstructing out of high-control religions. In the past, I thought deconstruction from these religions involved replacing narrow theological beliefs with more expansive views. This intellectual understanding was inadequate. For one thing, I considered "high-control religions" to be cult-like. Consider the Church of Scientology as an example. It never occurred to me that high control abuse could occur in my own Episcopal Church or in its expressions of piety or devotion, such as non-residential monastic communities. I also thought that what was being controlled were thoughts and beliefs and that reconstruction might entail developing a new, more nimble set of beliefs. I didn't know that the abuse suffered in HCRs would embody themselves as traumas. Repair goes way beyond sets of beliefs. Usually, I don't review books with personal references such as those in this article. However, I strongly feel as though whatever healing I am now experiencing from the events of September 29, 2021, is due to the wise, caring, and judicious insights of Laurie Anderson. Read this lucid and well-written book if you experience trauma and are perplexed by its embodied tenacity. It might offer clues to your own restoration. --December 27, 2023 |
I am struck by how many of my clients walk into a spiritual direction session absolutely frazzled and exhausted by their busy lives. Many yearn for a more peaceful, organic connection to themselves, those they love, work with, and the world.
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"We're all just walking each other home."--Ram Dass