Spiritual Backwalking

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I have recently been gifted with a profound metaphor that I will share with you, but first

TWO STORIES.  A treasured member of my faith community lives with early on-set Parkinson’s Disease.  When his brain stops moving him forwad, he walks backward.  Healthline.com says, “It’s a simple way for you to challenge different muscles and force your mind to focus and operate differently.”  Rather than stopping, my friend lets go and imagines another way to move.  Backwards becomes frontwards.

In the 1960’s war novel, Catch-22, Yosarian walks backwards, “…because he was continually spinning around as he walked to make certain no one was sneaking up on him from behind.”  Yosarian was experiencing the reality of war, not paranoia.  The enemy was sneaking up behind him with intent to kill.  His fixation on fear had taken possession of him, so he walked backwards to be safe. And now

THE METAPHOR.  What if we trained our souls to stop the unhealthy ego-spin by walking backwards?  This spiritual practice necessitates a profound letting-go, just as it does when our bodies attempt to walk backwards.  We are awkward and afraid of falling, so we rely on a friend’s arm or trekking poles, and our progress is slow.  Spiritual backwalking requires us to rely on the movements of the Spirit instead of relying solely on an out-of-control ego.  We find the courage to walk inside the dangerous fissures of constant change and uncertaintly.  We take on a holy vulnerability when we risk this spiritual backwalking.

Our society doesn’t endorse walking backwards.  It’s motto is forward-thrust with great gusto, a speed which supports all manner of unhealthy ego-patterns, the worst of them being an inordinate drive to control self and others at all cost.  This is the war zone we find ourselves in at this moment and like Yosarian, we have to walk backwards to be safe.  We have to let go and trust Spirit to companion us through the change and uncertainty that bombards us.  And now

A POEM

Backwalking (1)

 

 

Photo Credit:  Pinterest.com

In-Sight

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In-Sight (2)

Coleridge enthusiasts will recognize the reference to the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, “Alone, alone, all, all alone/ Alone on a wide, wide sea/ And never a saint/ Took pity on my soul in agony.”  Whether spawned from an opium delerium or a moment of contemplation, the truth is there.

A nod to my friend Ernest Hemmingway and his brilliant short, short story, “A Clean Well-Lighted place,” where all is nada without one.

 

 

Photo by Hasan Albari from Pexels

Where Have You Gone?

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It has been two days since I visited my sister-in-law in the memory care unit.  An intense collage of feelings have mixed with tears as I struggle to make sense of the unsensible.

GONE   WHERE ARE YOU   MOMENTS OF TERROR   HUMOR   GRIEF  UNLESS YOU BECOME LIKE LITTLE CHILDREN YOU CANNOT ENTER THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN  WITHOUT THE ABILITY TO THINK…IS THERE A SOUL    it’s all there.

Phyllis was diagnosed with Alzheimers two years ago and now after another fall and a broken hip and a move, the disease has progressed dramatically in a short time. I am grateful that my brother hasn’t lived to witness this.

At last this morning I was gifted with a measure of sense and hope:

Gone

 

Photo Credit:  pexels.com

 

 

 

Halloween Transfigured

there is another world

Light before us, light behind us, light under our feet.
Light within us, light over us,
Let all around us be light.

* David Haas

While chanting my morning protection prayer, a gift from liturgical musician David Haas, I was transported back to Monday when I joined with others in celebrating the life of Sister Michele MacMillan, O.P., who transitioned to life beyond last week. Michele exuded a sense of justice that informed her ministry on behalf of vulnerable immigrants. As she was dying, she crafted her own send-off, a liturgy of light, love and humor.

As often happens with me close to the time of dia de los muertos, the Day of the Dead, the veil between worlds has fallen away and I have been entertaining a few spirits who’ve come for respite in my little anchorage. Not surprisingly, I waited for Michele to show up for her celebration of life.

She did not disappoint. Half way through the service I physically felt not only her energy, but the energy of three other sisters recently transitioned. Their palpable joy and light prompted a steady trickle of tears, and as the service ended I sat fixed to my chair, unable to leave their presence. Like a reluctant Peter experiencing the transfigured Christ (Matthew 17:1–8), it felt so good to be there that I wanted to set up my tent in that chapel. I am grateful for the faithful presence of these sisters in our lives, a presence that endures beyond the veil.

Wounds As Tender Tinder

 

 

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This poem follows on the heels of yesterday’s prayer.  It dogged me with the tenacity of Heaven’s Hound until this was born.  Ponder with me.

 

Tender Tinder (1)

Grounding Practice

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Practice for Releasing Unwanted Energy

 

If you are a person who often sees more than you want to see, or who accrues unwanted, negative energy flung far and wide by others, you may find this spiritual practice helpful.

  • Take whatever position enables you to focus; I lie on my back with one hand on my abdomen and the other on my heart.
  • Find a rhythm to your breathing, breathing in peace and exhaling anxiety.
  • Now do a scan of your body and aura to find and root out all negative, unwanted energy which has lodged itself and affected your quality of life. There is no need to analyze or name the energies; no doubt you have already done that too much, only creating more unwanted energy.
  • Start with your brain, imagining that you are going in with your hands and manually untangling the unwanted energy. It might be like removing seaweed and barnacles from a fishing net. As you seek and release, focus your attention by saying, “Untangling, releasing, untangling, releasing.” Breathe in peace and exhale negative energy.
  • With each piece of negative energy released, send it back down to the earth where it can be neutralized. I imagine a channel extending from my sacral bone into the earth. Send the energy down while saying, “Releasing, sending, releasing, sending.” Send it down with a great big “Woosh” of breath.
  • Continue scanning your body and aura, finding those places where unwanted energy likes to hide out. When you reach a place of balanced integrity, you are grounded.
  • Follow up with a cleansing ritual such as spritzing with water, or burning sage or incense.

May peaceful moments come and stay.
Rita

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo Credit: Donna Coburn http://www.artrage.com

Listen For The Breath Of The Divine

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The wall between us and the divine is very thin at this time of year. It permeates every nook and cranny of our existence. If we are awake, we can hear its breath whisper words of love through chinks we have burrowed in the doors to our souls. Keep on knocking.

 

Rilke’s Book of Hours
Anita Barrows
1,6

You, God, who live next door—
If at times, through the long night,
I trouble you with my urgent knocking—
this is why: I hear you breathe so seldom.
I know you’re all alone in that room.
If you should be thirsty, there’s no one to get you a glass of water.
I wait listening, always.
Just give me a sign! I’m right here.
As it happens, the wall between us is very thin.
Why couldn’t a cry from one of us break it down?
It would crumble easily, it would barely make a sound.

 

 

Photo Credit: pexels.com

“It’s A Privilege To Be Here.” (K.U.)

 

I entered the YMCA swimming pool earlier than usual today, desperate to heal from the strident rancor that stalked me through the written word, spoken word, unspoken word, words, words, words. No escape here. As I sank into the comfort of the hot tub, the blaring voice of Thursday’s aerobics instructor reverberated through the space, shattering my renewal attempt. “Let it go,” I told myself, “In twenty minutes she’s out of here.” I began my hour’s swim and instead of leaving with her class, the instructor lingered through “my” hour, engaged in a non-stop decibel-enhanced monologue with a captivated swimmer.

Workout ended and instructor gone, I sank back into the comfort of the hot tub, silence ensuing throughout the pool. Two deaf women joined me, signing sparingly, enjoying their time. Blissful silence wrapped around me like a child’s blankie warding off a nightmare.

A familiar thought pushed its way into consciousness. “I wish I were deaf. I hardly hear as it is, yet some sounds are physically painful…might as well take it all.” If my deaf companions could have read my thoughts I can guess their response. “It’s a privilege to be here,” they would say. “Its a privilege to be here as we are. It’s a privilege for you to be here just as you are.” Savor what you have. Savor who you are.”

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I wrap a blanket of silence
around my battered psyche,
snuggling into its warm comfort
where I conjure the resilience
to surface in the world
ear-to-ear
heart-to-heart.

© Rita Hemmer Kowats 10-4-2019