Lorraine was Right

Lorraine Bergstrand Schneider sits at or close to the top of my lists of favorite people, favorite teachers and favorite mentors. I'm sure I'll come back to her example again and again. One of the many things she was right about was that life isn't over at 50. And that life is full of possibilities. She may not have actually said those exact words but she lived them right before my eyes. I met her in 1986 (the year my dad died and my son Karl was born) and knew her until her death in 2008. She was born the same year as my mother in 1918 around about July 28 or 29; she never really knew which. She was a very feisty lady at age 68 when I met her. In those first two years, I took an active listening class from her called "the art of listening." This "listening' class became a support group that worked with her for 5 years at least. This wasn't her first career. She was first a mom and wife. Then she was a florist. And after a nervous breakdown (depression) and therapy, she learned the listening skills needed to answer the phones for a crisis hotline. From there she wrote her own curriculum and landed in my life to teach me a huge chunk of what I know about living. At age 70 something, she fell in love with a very sweet man and had this wonderful marriage to Jim for 9 years before he died. They led marriage retreats together. Amazing.

So now I'm closer to that age she was when she started over as a teacher of active listening. And I'm learning again from experience that she was right. Life just keeps growing and changing and becoming. In every age and every stage of life, there is possibility for new life, new love and new friends.

Tonight I accepted an invitation to go to a new friend's 28th birthday party. As a result, I met 6 more new and amazing people I never knew before. And just when I thought I had lost most connection with old friends, I had the opportunity earlier today to spend 5 hours with a childhood, life-long friend. The new connections and the old connection were equally inspiring, sweet and uplifting. Lorraine was right. It's important to keep some of the old and to keep adding new. It's important to stay in the game and not give up. You never know when you're going to meet the next great person. wow.

I'm grateful. for Lorraine and for all of you. Indeed, I'm rich.

blessings on you all,
jules

be do be do be do...

To do: Be

To be: Do

Easy right?!

Graceful and Messy

I have just changed the look of my blog...it used to be black background with white font. I finally have found pictures for the header that somewhat convey the contrast that defines my spiritual life. I'm both saint and sinner, graceful and messy. Both pictures are taken by me and are big parts of my life. The peaceful and kind ocean, sometimes I call her O shun, is like a mother to me. Having grown up on a peninsula sticking out into the Indian Ocean, I have experienced much of my life through the varying moods and waves of the Ocean. A couple years after I got married (28 years ago this year), I took on the title of "full-time mom" and stayed home for most of 20 plus years raising and caring for my 4 boys and a couple of cats and a dog. The "Help Wanted" sign was put there by me to communicate my message in a different way. It stayed for several days and nothing happened. So it goes. The point is the spiritual life, the sacred life is full of contrasts...still waters and storms, happy days with children and dirty dishes, faith and doubt. And I don't think we could have one without the other. The human life is a study in finding balance and tension and transcendence between and through the dark and the light.

making mud pies at fifty

Earlier this year I hit the half-century mark and celebrated in full force with at least 50 friends. In fact, I'm sure there is more celebrating to do even though that was already three months ago. In the meantime, I've been beginning to get a grip on this new phase of my life...this phase called mid-life. It includes things like working with people who are young enough to be my children, wearing reading glasses from the drug store, always misplacing my dignity in some corner of my life and a nest that is always half empty and half full.

Among the humbling discoveries of this age is the realization that no matter how mature and grown-up I get, there is still a scared little girl inside me that needs a lap to crawl into and cry once in awhile. She's the precious and shadowy part of me that will never quite get over the fear of abandonment, or the fear of not being accepted. She's the one who is always reminding me that I might not be good enough or I might be too much. She's the one who paces the halls hoping that someone will call, that someone will remember that she's here, waiting. I've been rather frustrated to find out that after all of the progress i've made, I can't quite shed the existence of this sweet girl hiding in the shadows.

For reasons beyond my understanding, my shy little girl took up a holler this last week. She was lonely and scared and wanted attention. Finally, I took her to my Creator, my Comforter, my God. And God did a surprising thing. He sat down and played with her/me in the mud. They/we took all the tears and made mud. God didn't even once scold her for getting so dirty and crying so hard. We just played for hours, side by side, building walls and castles and later creatures out of the mud. Then, without even cleaning up, we went for walk. God took me out to look at flowers. The flowers sang and shouted and cheered as we walked by. How clever they felt to be noticed by the two of us. And gradually, I found myself relaxing and enjoying my time and my place in the world. Finally God said I could go get cleaned up and that I was loved, the little scared girl in me was loved.

I guess what I learned is that I need that little girl to remind me that I don't have to be perfect, that it's okay to be small and lonely and need a friend in the mud. I give out a lot and can nearly always find it in me to accept my friends' fears, quirks and imperfections but have not been as kind and as forgiving of my own. Rather I've been resentful that this scared little girl shows up once in awhile. Maybe it's time I let her know how much I appreciate her. Maybe it's time I give up looking for my dignity and just make mudpies out of the tears and dirt. Maybe it's time to let myself be...me.

the mythology of romance and weddings in America

Okay, so that's a big title implying a research paper or something. I'm not interested in such a lengthy study. It's just that I went to a wedding yesterday afternoon. It was lovely. The couple was gorgeous (mag-cover gorgeous). It was a celebration befitting even the classiest of classy brides complete with a sweeter than sweet 2 1/2 year old flower girl (daughter of the bride and groom), twin ring bearers, tuxes, satin dresses, toasts, dancing, cake (in 7 flavors), and a toss of the bouquet and the garter. It was easy to get the impression that the sweet young family will live happily ever after. And it was fun to indulge in the joy of this happily ever after thought. I pray it is so for this couple.

Meantime I have been hearing more than my fair share of sad and abusive marriage stories lately. The most recent of these stories surfaced at yesterdays celebratory wedding reception. An amazingly attentive and wise mom told me of her 20-something child getting out of an emotionally abusive marriage. I went home with mixed reviews. How can I be happy for the one couple while still encountering this other young adult's broken heart within my own? And what I wondered is, what is there about our mythology of marriage and weddings that leads a young person to believe that they should suffer their own soul in order to have this fairytale? And what is the fairy tale? And what is it we and those wide-eyed young people are seeking? Some of my slightly older and more experienced 30 something friends know that it is intimacy they seek and that they are not sure how to get it without giving up all of their hard earned personal freedom. My 40 and 50 something friends are beginning to realize that the hard earned personal freedom is empty without the compromise that intimate relationships require. And many of them are also just getting to where they can compromise without losing themselves in the process.

This relationship stuff is messy spirituality indeed. Yes, it is spirituality. Nothing comes closer to our spirits and our relationship with God than the most intimate of human relationships we have. These humans we live with challenge our self-esteem, our purpose, our ability to trust and our courage to move through life without having any reassurance that any of it will be worth it. Yes, marriage is messy as are many weddings in spite of the beautiful show. It takes compromise, communication and constant attention to keep the friendship going. When it works, it's worth every second of compromise. But what of those that don't work?

How, after such betrayal from the person we love the most can we learn to trust others again, not to mention ourselves? And what is there to look forward to if weddings and marriages are just farces or fairytales at bes? And how do stop all this nonsense when we are hard-wired to connect with our others and our God? And how do I console my young friends? how do I help them find healing and forgiveness within and in the precarious world around them after the fairy-tale has died along with their broken hearts? How even do I encourage my own sons to get married at all?

Enthusiasm Incarnate

I recently wrote a poem about a fantastic friend of mine. I described her as "enthusiasm incarnate." When I write poetry especially; words just flow into my fingers without me giving them much thought. Later I go back to evaluate what has been written. This quality of enthusiasm incarnate caught my attention. What did I mean by that? As I sat to ponder, thoughts of my Hans came to mind immediately. Hans too was enthusiasm incarnate. Enthusiasm is a great word meaning possessed by God or having God within. This is not possession like ownership but possession like being so filled up and influenced by the divine. Incarnate means that something has been embodied in the flesh, made real to us. Hans was enthusiasm incarnate. And what was my evidence? Joy and energy. Han's energetic joy bubbled out of him regularly through his smile, through his bouncing body, through his shouts of "Yeah, let's do it!" Such energy, such ecstatic joy, I can only describe as coming from the source itself, God. Certainly God filled that boy's heart, body and soul. It was felt just by being in the room with him. IT was felt when he spoke. It was felt when he sang. IT was felt when he played backyard football and cheered for this team, the Minnesota Vikings. It was felt as he took on radiation and chemotherapy. And it was felt even as he faded away. [He died at age 11 of brain cancer] Hans loved life, loved people as if possessed by God.

My friend is also enthusiasm incarnate. Just being in her presence reminds one of the depth of joy one might feel if possessed by God. And it's real and tangible. I feel it when she sings, when she works, when she greets people on the street or in the line at Chipotle restaurants. It's real and genuine. It's available for all.  It's God's love in the flesh.

People like Hans and my friend were told to hush, sit still and be quiet when I was growing up. Grownups filled with responsibility and the somberness of living a devout Christian life were eager to hush such foolish outbursts of joy and energy for life. And why is that? Why were they and why are we so quick to squelch that which is evidence of God's abundance and grace; God's pure pleasure in us? Why does our worship often resemble a morbid funeral march instead of a birthday celebration; celebrating our rebirth each and every day?

I like to think that I was once a child with enthusiasm incarnate and then I learned to be quiet like the adults who I looked up to insisted on. And then I met my children. I met Hans, my fantastic friend and others. And now after many, many years of trying to hold that enthusiasm at bay, I am finally allowing it voice once again. I find my voice is changing (literally). The fire in it is growing, the conviction getting stronger. I pray that one day soon, I will be so possessed by God that it will encourage someone else, lift someone else up as I have been.

Thanks be to God and to Hans and to my friend C and others for spilling their joy on my lap.

Blessings on your day,

Jules

--
Julie A. Bonde
Whispers of Wisdom

With Creativity and an Open Heart, I will Nurture the Spirit of God in myself and others. This is my mission, this is my prayer.~JAB

www.wow-ink.com
http://downwindfromeden.blogspot.com

I AM THE SONG!

I am the song
I will pierce your heart with my sharp arrow
I will crack open the armor you have built around each cell
I will stimulate your heart to beat harder, faster, stronger
I will create vibration and color in your eyes
I will give your passion a voice
I will make you move; arms, legs, hips feeling the beat
I will open your ears to the voices of those around you
I will show you how harmony works and the possibilities for community
I will soothe your grief, celebrate your victory, rock you to sleep
I will remind you of the voices of angels
I will connect you to yourself and to God
For I am energy, power, spirit
I am the song

© 2009 Julie A. Bonde

If you would like to read more about how we live in, with, and around music, tune into my friend Conie's blog at http://pointsoflightmusic.blogspot.com

Living Downwind from Eden

Downwind from Eden is a good place to be. It can be messy and complicated but when the winds of grace are blowing, you get this wonderful aroma of love, acceptance, joy and peace. Like last night, I was feeling awful, kind of chest cold settling in deep along with some loneliness in my heart. I was attending my hospice choir practice; at least most of me was there. At the end, I still felt as if I could slink away with my heavy darkness without anyone really noticing. And then from across the room, this sweet woman, gray hair and twinkle in her eye came and gave me one of those hugs. I hope for your sake, you know the hug I'm talking about. This was the kind of hug when you know you aren't just being greeted out of courtesy. This was the extended hug when you know your soul is being savored and consoled and welcomed. This morning, I'm still wallowing a bit in self pity but the sweet aroma of grace and the remembrance of those loving arms are making me grateful I live just downwind from Eden.