So grateful. Complaint, lament, what-else-is-true. Thank you for helping the rest of us be more honest, less avoidant, when it comes to our times. I'm finding that the more important a work is, the less significant it feels in the moment. The gathering you describe could be dismissed that way. I was in a small political association meeting last night and found myself scrolling effing FB to avoid the seeming insignificance of our deliberation about how to activate care in our community--in a world run by the super-rich. Psalming it down. Thanks, Elizabeth. Thanks be to God.
Oof. “I'm finding that the more important a work is, the less significant it feels in the moment.” This is such a helpful insight. Thank you for adding it to Elizabeth’s insights.
one more quick comment: I find myself praying "God, help me keep to being human. Help me to experience deep listening to my own life, that I may find you dwelling and playing and questioning me within. So often I come to those places where I feel God when I allow something in me to die. And then there is an honesty in me that isn't so fearsome as it seemed before, and that I'm not tempted to avoid.
I love this, I still remember at age 30 after a decade of depression and fruitless attempts to feel better, coming across the idea that one choice we have is to face difficult feelings directly. The fact that it took until 30 to come across the idea tells us that pretending, glossing over and avoiding are normalised behaviours in Western modernity, and it is a destructive and unhealthy tendency. I’ve learned that it won’t kill me despite how painful it may feel. There’s always medicine in the pain.
Greetings, Elizabeth (to quote Mary). I met you briefly at the London conference last October. I've been praying the psalms since my grief at the death of my father – almost 50 years ago now. I tried to leave them before and move to something else. I'm happy to say that I failed to move on. What I did succeed in doing was making them my own by writing the "essence" of each one as a haiku. I have since revised those haiku in book form which I'm making available for free. Perhaps others might enjoy Come to the Water.
“Be honest about what is hard, ideally with others”. Express your emotions and know they will pass. All excellent advice! And for those of us who are traumatized, where words don’t come out because the brain doesn’t allow us to speak because of the trauma, the rituals of a congregation in a darkly lit church/temple/mosque can still be cathartic.
This landed right in the solar plexus for me. Ooph indeed. I've found myself longing to go out and shove my hands into the earth (except it is winter here and the ground is frozen) or feel cold wind on my face just to remind myself I'm human. I love the idea of Psalm It and I think I've been doing that without realizing it, at times on my own Substack, kind of, but moreover in my own morning prayer journaling. I'd love to do this with others and am inspired to try this with my hubs or with friends. Thank you for this post, Elizabeth -- what a gift to encounter something like this today.
And also the Active Hope (free) course: https://activehope.training/ - designed to help people make a difference in the world. They have a spiral which starts with gratitude, then honouring our pain, seeing with new eyes, and going forth (https://www.joannamacy.net/work)
I find it hard to step outside my skepticism that what I'm doing makes a difference (like Craig below...) - but these ideas really help. Beautiful to see how you make sense of it through the practices of your faith.
I picked up my phone instead of the Psalms and by some great grace came to your words, Elizabeth. I have been gutted all day as I process what is happening to my country (USA) and how our leaders’ actions are tearing others to shreds.
The end of all things is near…pray, love deeply, practice hospitality. Thank you for the reminder to go down.
Interesting to read these thoughts after listening to your latest podcast with Jameela Jamil yesterday while driving. This poem arrived after a comment you passed quite early on. As soon as I got home, I spent time putting words on a page. To my surprise, a poem about my mother's scars and wounds arrived (I have been going through her archives this week). Then, the phrases from the journey:
In passing: “they say it is better to write from your scars than your wounds.”
II This could be me.
That scar that bleeds when you touch it.
Disfigured, but I never look in the mirror.
The marks that have made me me.
I wish that varicose ulcer would heal
Weeping, smelly, staining everything.
Did I cause it? Did your touch break the skin first?
So grateful. Complaint, lament, what-else-is-true. Thank you for helping the rest of us be more honest, less avoidant, when it comes to our times. I'm finding that the more important a work is, the less significant it feels in the moment. The gathering you describe could be dismissed that way. I was in a small political association meeting last night and found myself scrolling effing FB to avoid the seeming insignificance of our deliberation about how to activate care in our community--in a world run by the super-rich. Psalming it down. Thanks, Elizabeth. Thanks be to God.
Yes. This. We're distracted out of our own humanity at times. I feel this.
Oof. “I'm finding that the more important a work is, the less significant it feels in the moment.” This is such a helpful insight. Thank you for adding it to Elizabeth’s insights.
one more quick comment: I find myself praying "God, help me keep to being human. Help me to experience deep listening to my own life, that I may find you dwelling and playing and questioning me within. So often I come to those places where I feel God when I allow something in me to die. And then there is an honesty in me that isn't so fearsome as it seemed before, and that I'm not tempted to avoid.
Beautiful
I love this, I still remember at age 30 after a decade of depression and fruitless attempts to feel better, coming across the idea that one choice we have is to face difficult feelings directly. The fact that it took until 30 to come across the idea tells us that pretending, glossing over and avoiding are normalised behaviours in Western modernity, and it is a destructive and unhealthy tendency. I’ve learned that it won’t kill me despite how painful it may feel. There’s always medicine in the pain.
Greetings, Elizabeth (to quote Mary). I met you briefly at the London conference last October. I've been praying the psalms since my grief at the death of my father – almost 50 years ago now. I tried to leave them before and move to something else. I'm happy to say that I failed to move on. What I did succeed in doing was making them my own by writing the "essence" of each one as a haiku. I have since revised those haiku in book form which I'm making available for free. Perhaps others might enjoy Come to the Water.
https://morph-e-art.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Come-to-the-Water.pdf
That love is stronger than death is a belief that I am so grateful for especially because I’m pretty hopeless with the “what else is true” step. 😎
“Be honest about what is hard, ideally with others”. Express your emotions and know they will pass. All excellent advice! And for those of us who are traumatized, where words don’t come out because the brain doesn’t allow us to speak because of the trauma, the rituals of a congregation in a darkly lit church/temple/mosque can still be cathartic.
This landed right in the solar plexus for me. Ooph indeed. I've found myself longing to go out and shove my hands into the earth (except it is winter here and the ground is frozen) or feel cold wind on my face just to remind myself I'm human. I love the idea of Psalm It and I think I've been doing that without realizing it, at times on my own Substack, kind of, but moreover in my own morning prayer journaling. I'd love to do this with others and am inspired to try this with my hubs or with friends. Thank you for this post, Elizabeth -- what a gift to encounter something like this today.
That was great Elizabeth, love your thoughtfulness and compassion.
Oh you beautiful seven ❤️
Would 7 be correct?
That's my guess
Thank you for this! I’d guess a 7, with either a social or one-to-one dominant instinct.
I am indeed a 7 (6w) well done to you all!
Thoughtful and honest as ever...
This reminded me of two things: "the way out is in" by Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh, and this podcast episode from the community he founded
https://plumvillage.org/podcast/mindful-activism-from-anxiety-to-agency-episode-57
And also the Active Hope (free) course: https://activehope.training/ - designed to help people make a difference in the world. They have a spiral which starts with gratitude, then honouring our pain, seeing with new eyes, and going forth (https://www.joannamacy.net/work)
I find it hard to step outside my skepticism that what I'm doing makes a difference (like Craig below...) - but these ideas really help. Beautiful to see how you make sense of it through the practices of your faith.
I picked up my phone instead of the Psalms and by some great grace came to your words, Elizabeth. I have been gutted all day as I process what is happening to my country (USA) and how our leaders’ actions are tearing others to shreds.
The end of all things is near…pray, love deeply, practice hospitality. Thank you for the reminder to go down.
Lent can’t come soon enough this year.
As the Apostles creed has it ‘He descended to the dead’ Jesus was human too
Interesting to read these thoughts after listening to your latest podcast with Jameela Jamil yesterday while driving. This poem arrived after a comment you passed quite early on. As soon as I got home, I spent time putting words on a page. To my surprise, a poem about my mother's scars and wounds arrived (I have been going through her archives this week). Then, the phrases from the journey:
In passing: “they say it is better to write from your scars than your wounds.”
II This could be me.
That scar that bleeds when you touch it.
Disfigured, but I never look in the mirror.
The marks that have made me me.
I wish that varicose ulcer would heal
Weeping, smelly, staining everything.
Did I cause it? Did your touch break the skin first?
This wound needs to bleed.
A simple cut, but infected.
The sutures hurt.
If you touch me there you will feel it
If you touch me here I will know.
Why does touching me fascinate you?
4 or a 1
That is one philosophy, others disagree.
4's and 1's usually aren't about optimism
Usually, but when 4's are healthy they move to 1 & when 1's are healthy they move towards/grow into 7s