Lauri’s Personal Reflections

What Privilege Taught Me to Believe

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 1 Comment

and how those beliefs were undone

I didn’t grow up wealthy, but I did grow up privileged. I was born white to middle class parents, raised in a predominantly white third-generation neighborhood of white-collar professionals and tradesmen. In most of the homes around us, the men worked, and the mothers stayed home. The children were feral and unsupervised, only because everyone believed we were safe. We had a roof over our head, three square homecooked meals a day, new clothing (unless you were a younger sibling), and a basement full of toys. We enjoyed piano and dance lessons. Our parents sent us to private school.

Life was good and in that state of perceived safety and abundance, we believed in the promise of “The American Dream” – a good education and hard work was the path to success and the harder you worked, the more successful you would become. We were also taught that welfare was for lazy people and we should judge them and treat them accordingly. There was a clear dividing line between us (hard workers) and them.  And a not-so-subtle dividing line between us (white people) and them (people of color).

All of this happened along side a devout Catholic upbringing. God was the old man in the sky. We were undeserving of God’s love. God’s love had to be earned and could be taken away. And abortion was a mortal sin. We were even invited to join the school’s “Pro-Life” club from whom we would get a bright shiny silver bracelet marking us as “soldiers of Christ” in the war against abortion (this was all on the heels of Roe vs. Wade). As a young adult, I volunteered at a pro-life “clinic” for women facing unexpected pregnancies.

In addition to all of this: we were raised Republican. We were told Republicans were good and were looking out for the good of the people and that Democrats were communists – and that was bad! I remember knock down drag ‘em out fights between certain family members who (gasp) belonged on different ends of the political spectrum. The Democrats were good people, but clearly delusional – at least that’s what we were led to believe.

In college (YES!  I attended university, which was mostly paid for by my parents – another privilege), I joined a sorority (more privilege), continued attending mass and attended adult faith formation classes. I voted for Ronald Reagan, and later, for George H. W. Bush.

Other than being a brunette, I was the stereotypical white girl of privilege.

But then, life happened.

My previous stance on abortion was the first thing to go. In the volunteer position, I witnessed first-hand the violent tactics often used by the Pro-life movement in dissuading women from seeking an abortion. There was no compassion shown, only judgment, accompanied by violent and graphic images of late-term abortions. There was a reason I wasn’t allowed into the “counseling” room at the clinic. Additionally, with over 40% of pregnancies being unplanned, I was bound to eventually meet a young woman, likely a friend, who would have to face a sometimes-difficult choice. As statistics would have it – I did – come to know of several friends who at one time had to face an unplanned pregnancy. Further, I knew of several who had no choice but to seek the termination of the pregnancy for medical issues related to either the baby, or their own survival. Abortion, it turned out, wasn’t so black and white.  How could I judge a woman (or a couple) who was having to face the most difficult decision of their life – one that would stay with them their whole life. The decision to terminate a pregnancy (no matter what the circumstances) is a wound that does not heal.  It changes, but the pain will always be there on some level. Compassion told me to put myself in the others’ shoes and support them through a very difficult decision. And to understand that at any point, I could find myself in a similar position forced to make a similar difficult choice.

The second thing that went was my belief in the American Dream. The first of this leaving happened in my own professional journey. Sheepskin in hand, I went out looking for work. And this is a FACT – not once in my 40 years of being in the post-college workforce have I made more than $26,000 per year.  NEVER.  Not once.  This was not for lack of effort, work, skills, or abilities. Now at a ripe almost 60, it is not for lack of education, experience, or expertise. The universe has imposed some sort of invisible ceiling between myself and money – never even surpassing (which was also the big privileged promise) the salary of my father.

Hard work and a college education, as it turns out, is NOT a guaranteed path to wealth.

No matter how much someone else wants to tell you otherwise.

Then I experienced poverty. Thankfully not poverty of the sort that far too many suffer, but I have faced an enduring period of financial struggle – the likes of which has had me utilizing some of those so-called “communist” programs. I have received rental assistance and energy assistance. I qualified for Food Stamps and could have been using the Food Pantry (I chose to use neither, but at a grave consequence to me financially – eventually leading to bankruptcy). I have enjoyed the profound benefits of the Affordable Healthcare Act – in fact, my life depends on it. Finally, I am on an income-based repayment plan for my graduate school student loans (if anyone wants to argue with me about student loan forgiveness, DON’T!!!!!  I will direct you straight to Matt Taibbi and his expose’ on the criminal nature of the student loan industry!!!!!) 

Beyond my own personal experience, I have witnessed hundreds, if not thousands struggling with similar or much worse circumstances. I have seen, through clear eyes, that the so-called “American Dream” is a lie and that there are, indeed, systemic obstacles to Americans realizing that dream. This fact of reality breaks my heart and inspires me to share my own journey beyond the lies that come with privilege.

As it relates to Catholicism.  This may be the biggest irony of them all. I have always been a woman of faith (whatever that means). I was a devout Catholic until the local Church made it clear I was no longer welcome. Jesus is my teacher and Mary Magdalene has become a guide. I sometimes pray the rosary and turn to Michael the Archangel in times of anxiety. I cherish my Catholic upbringing – for good and bad – but mostly, for what I learned about social justice:

Jesus calls us to love.  Period. And he was quite clear about what love looked like:

  • Judge not lest ye be judged.
  • Love your neighbor as yourself.
  • Everyone is your neighbor.
  • Welcome immigrants and foreigners.
  • Feed the hungry.
  • Set prisoners and captives free.
  • Clothe the naked.
  • Heal the sick.
  • Give sight to the blind.
  • Welcome “the other” to your table.
  • If someone asks for your cloak, give them your shirt as well.
  • Love one another.  Period.

As it turns out, it is my faith that has called me to depart from the politics in which I was once immersed and toward a political stance that supports the needs of the all. As my own life has shown me, even privilege does not guarantee that life will provide us with what we need. It has also shown me that by our own efforts, our own needs may not necessarily be met. There’s a little story in scripture that seems to provide a solution to this quandary:

All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. (Acts 2: 44-45)

If a sharing among the common good was good enough for Jesus and his earliest disciples, then it’s good enough for me. This is what love has taught me.

Unraveling the Wound of ME

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

I don’t know about you, but this past week has been quite a doozy!  I wouldn’t even bother to write about it except that nearly everyone I know has shared the common experience of a “what the heck was that?” kind of week.

Some of the things I’ve heard, witnessed, and been a party to:

  • DEEP Depression the likes of which we haven’t seen in months/years.
  • Strangely triggering experiences with disproportionate reactions.
  • Not just rugs, entire carpets being pulled out from beneath us.
  • A feeling (literal and figurative) of losing the ground beneath our feet.
  • Old, ancient wounds – ones we thought we were done with – paying us a visit.
  • Sudden losses including the ending of relationships.
  • Final straws on camel’s backs calling for immediate response.
  • Complete immobility, lack of motivation and/or interest…in anything.
  • Unexplained sorrow and intermittent tears.

I can’t even begin to offer an explanation of why any of this is happening, or the causes behind it.  I just know it is and has been. For me it’s been a week of writhing and groaning with a whole lot of nothing.  Nothing to do.  Nothing to be. Just nothing. And the realization that there are just not enough shows on Netflix to soothe a week such as the one we just had.

Yes, the world itself is insane. But, for me anyway, the past week felt much more personal – but even that said, I can’t put a finger on what the personal is. My normal inquiry, “What is the wound that is asking to be healed?” just isn’t working here. Either I’m fresh out of wounds, or I, myself, am the wound.

Now there’s a thought!  What if the wound is ME?

I don’t mean this in any sense of self-loathing or self-rejection (or do I?). But…. accompanying the writhing this past week was a whole lot of life-reviews. Visions and memories of really old stuff – experiences that caused me shame or regret, decisions I made that went wrongly, past relationships, old jobs that didn’t fit, every single experience/relationship that felt abusive in some way.

I’m not one to spend time entertaining regret. Shame, however, is another story. Shame, that in hindsight, I had no reason to feel. You see, it wasn’t my shame. It was someone else’s rejection, critique, or condemnation of me for any number of reasons. I wasn’t thin enough. I ate too much. I was too smart. I saw through their lies and bullshit. I couldn’t perform a certain task (through no fault of my own). My lifestyle choices and desire for ease didn’t fit theirs. I exercised the wrong way. I could see the truth they didn’t want me to see. My goals, desires, wants, weren’t the same as theirs. I didn’t obey the rules they wanted to impose upon me. I questioned authority. I challenged hypocrisy.   

There was no reason for me to feel shame for any of this – but, as it turns out, I did/do. Why? Because the rejection, condemnation, etc. was PERSONAL. It wasn’t the actions or behaviors they were rejecting.  It was ME they were rejecting. It was ME because the things these individuals and institutions chose to reject were all based on WHO I TRULY AM. All those years in the past I spent trying to just be myself and being told WHO I AM is not ok.

  • My body is what it is and can’t be forced into a certain shape or size (no matter how hard I tried).
  • My metabolism is what it is and before menopause I had to eat large portions just to survive.
  • I’m smart. I can’t help it. I just am.  I know things. I remember things. I like to learn.
  • I prefer ease to chaos, gentle to harsh, peace to conflict.
  • I’m an introvert. I like people, but I thrive in solitude.
  • I’m outgoing but shy.
  • I don’t like to toot my own horn, or wave a banner to my success.
  • I’m humble.
  • I can read people and I know immediately when someone is lying, a liar, or taking advantage of my generosity and I have a visceral response to these awarenesses. I can’t help it.  I just know and the knowing is somatic.
  • I live by my own truth barometer and profess no outside perceived authority except MYSELF.

All of these things are true about me and part of who I am. I can’t help it. It’s just ME.

All this to come to the realization that indeed, the wound that is asking to be healed in me and which arose through all the weirdness this past week (for me anyway) is the wound of ME. Every single thing, experience, interaction, etc. that causes me to feel as if there is something wrong with ME. That something about ME is wrong. That I have to apologize for who I am or beg for what I need to be ME.

The wound that is asking to be healed is ME.

 Image credit: Facebook AI portrait generator. Turns out this one actually looks like me!  😊

July Fourth

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 1 Comment

Today I don’t celebrate.

I grieve.

We are not,

nor have we ever been

free.

How can a nation built on genocide,

subjugation, and slavery call itself free?

The blood on our hands is the red in our flag.

White is the rage of freedoms deprived.

Blue is the bruising of eyes, and arms, and backs

of all those beaten down by discrimination, hatred, and bigotry.

We are not and we have never been free.

I weep for a nation that calls itself free

while over half a million are homeless…

where people are continually deprived of adequate food, shelter, and healthcare,

where our education system is being dismantled

and books are being banned.

Where women are no longer free to make decisions about their own health,

and where so many go without

while others bask in the wealth they could not spend if they tried.

How can we call ourselves free when

our tax dollars are going to fund another nation’s genocide and

when the blood on our hands is more than just our own?

Our nation is not free.

It never truly was.

So no – I do not celebrate July fourth.

Instead, today I grieve.

copyright Lauri Ann Lumby

Why Bother?

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

examining the blurred line between surrender and depression

This title, Why Bother, even describes how I’m feeling in this moment as I attempt to put these thoughts in writing. On one hand I’m sick to death of my own inner voice. On the other hand, I know I have friends, colleagues, clients and students who might share these sentiments. Is this just what happens as we approach our sixties or is there something more afoot?

In short (who am I kidding, I’m never short with my words), I have arrived at a place in my life where daily I’m faced with the question, “Why Bother?” while also acknowledging a deep sense of letting go combined with an even deeper sense of surrendering to what is (or what seems to be). Some might call it acceptance. Others might accuse me of being depressed. Yes? No? Maybe so? Does it even matter what we call it when it just simply is?

For the vast majority of my almost sixty years, I have worked my butt off!  As a child, I pursued academics with two specific goals in mind: to become class valedictorian and to get into the college of my choice where I would pursue Engineering just like my dad. In the end, I achieved neither, but I worked hard in pursuit of those goals. In college I did the same. I worked hard, studied, hard, all with an end-goal in mind – get a good job that makes lots of money. Again, none of these goals panned out, but not for lack of trying.

Somewhere around 1994, I experienced a profound change of direction and found myself called into what I believed to be my life purpose and mission. I pushed myself in my studies. I developed opportunities to put my learning into actions. I gained respect in my field and eventually landed a job that I planned to pursue to the highest rank possible for a woman working in the Church – Parish Director. As these goals began to bear fruit, the rug was violently pulled out from under me and I found myself again, on another path.

We plan and God laughs!

Before going on about career stuff, I must also acknowledge my marriage. I had a vision. I had goals. I worked my ever-loving ass off to make the impossible succeed. I did not fail -but the marriage did. Again, not for lack of trying!

Then there’s my kids – yeah – I won at that. No, it’s not a contest, but I can confidently acknowledge the role I played in supporting my children in being the absolute best versions of themselves as they could possibly be. No, I wasn’t perfect. I sometimes lost my temper. I occasionally yelled at my kids. My anxiety often got the best of me. I’m sure they are carrying around conditioned thoughts or behaviors influenced by my own unhealed wounds. BUT, I look at them today and I could not be more proud – of them, and myself for my attempts at loving them into being who they are today. In this I can say I succeeded.

Back to the career stuff – without boring you with the details about which I’m sick of speaking – I worked hard, really hard, at what I understood to be my mission and purpose, and worked even more vigorously at it after the Church rug got pulled out from beneath me. I pursued further education. I voraciously consumed books on personal development, grief, and shadow work, etc. all while building, promoting, and managing my own business offering resources and support for individual self-actualization.

  • I wrote and published books. Eleven to be exact.
  • I created and facilitated over 30 courses in personal development – both in-person and eventually online.
  • I worked with countless students and clients who felt called to pursue their own inner work.
  • I networked with and collaborated with other people in the field in support of our shared mutual growth.
  • I penned thousands of blog posts to support the visibility of my work and to educate and inspire readers.
  • I wrote for myself and was guest writer for many online and hard-copy publications.
  • I put SEO practice into my work.
  • I did what I was told to do by various so-called experts.
  • I gathered a strategic team to help support a necessary rebranding.
  • Speaking of rebranding – I’ve done that too many times to mention.
  • I believed in the promises offered to me by influential people in the field to “help make my business successful.”

Since 2003, I have done all this. I’m grateful for all those who received from the gifts I shared in the world. I acknowledge the benefit my sharing has been for many. I’m humbled by the relationships that have blossomed out of the simple act of me sharing myself in the world.

Yes, great good has come from thirty years of pursuit. And yet, I have nothing of a material nature to show for all my hard work. I have zero savings. No investments. I own nothing but my car and the contents of my apartment. To heap on additional frustration, as of 2020, my work, my passion, my mission, my business has all but died. Yes, there have been a few new students and clients popping up from time to time along with the return of those with whom I hadn’t work in years. But for the most part – not much to nothing has been happening.

At some point in the last several years, I have been forced to increasingly acknowledge that what I thought was my mission and purpose is over. It’s complete. Perhaps all I pursued was simply for my own sake and those clients and students were only along for the ride (as one of my Zen friends reminds, “We’re all just here in our own sit.”) I sometimes wonder if the search for and pursuit of meaning and purpose is simply an illusion that feeds our big fat egos.

But I’m really good at what I do/did.  There was a passion that drove me. My gifts became enlivened and additional gifts were discovered, cultivated, and shared. St. Paul says this is what we should be doing – using our own unique gifts in support of the mission of love. I’ve done all that.

And yet…..and yet…..what do we do when there is nothing left? No one coming forth to receive our gifts. No inspiration to create anything new. No energy or excitement about diving back in to try reviving that which is already dead.

I got nothing. I’m spent. I have nothing more inside of me to promote, advertise, or feed my business – and at this point I wonder, “Why bother?” I’ve done all I can. Perhaps it’s lived out its life and that life has come to an end. Maybe it’s time to hand the baton to the young ones who still have the energy to start a new life.

I do not. I’m done pushing that boulder up the hill only to have it roll back down over my own dying body. I’m tired. I’m spent. One some days I feel defeated, but mostly I feel resigned. In spite of all my efforts, nothing can reverse the direction of a dying tide. It is what it is. I did what I felt called to do. I ministered to those who found their way to me. I gave my best effort and brought my best self forth. Some enjoyed the benefits of my sharing. Others found their way to another path. Some gave up the work for reasons I can only guess. Some turned away because it was easier to blame me than to face their own demons and do the deep inner work of personal healing and transformation. And I was there for it all.

So what happens now? I have a part-time job that has its frustrations but at least it helps me to pay the bills. Beyond that, I’m not sure I care. Not because I’m depressed, but because if there is one thing I’ve learned in the 59+ year journey is that WE ARE NOT IN CHARGE! Some other force is driving the boat and we can either exhaust ourselves fighting against it or go along for the ride. At almost sixty, I’m choosing to go along for the ride because any other choice is futile. This is where the “Why bother” comes in. In going along for the ride (surrendering/accepting), there’s nothing left to do, only something to be. The something I choose to be is peaceful, living with ease, gently, lovingly, and with kindness toward myself and others – or as one friend recently shared: “There is nothing more to do other than to be that which cannot be seen,” which as it turns out might just be a fancy way of saying, “Why bother?”

A**HOLE

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Contrary to what some (perhaps many) might say, I’m NOT an asshole. Contrary to what I jokingly say about myself, I’m NOT an asshole. I only jokingly say that I’m an asshole as a way to protect myself from those who honestly believe I am (an asshole).

People say I’m an asshole when they don’t like certain things about me. When my actions or words make them uncomfortable or hold them accountable to their own behaviors. Here’s a list of what some (many?) don’t like about me:

  1. I know who I am. I know my gifts, and my challenges and I’m confident standing in either.
  2. I have a clearly defined sense of right and wrong. I uphold these values within myself and hold others to these same values. (A dear friend once said that I have more integrity than anyone he has ever known.)
  3. I am growing more comfortable in the fullness of my emotions. I can feel sorrow, anxiety, depression, despair, joy, excitement, and anger and am somewhat comfortable expressing these.
  4. I’m VERY passionate about certain things and I’m not afraid to express this passion.
  5. I have a deep desire for justice in our world and will freely speak out against injustices.
  6. I feel anger DEEPLY (or I might be confusing passion for anger). When I witness an injustice, when my needs are not being met, when someone deeply hurts me, I feel anger. I’m not very good at expressing anger (because “you’re a bad person if you are angry), so it usually gets turned inward into seething resentment. Then I become SILENT and withdrawn until I’ve had time to process that anger.
  7. I have exceptional boundaries. As an introverted empath who is highly sensitive to the energy of others, my boundaries have become even more iron clad.
  8. I hear and can see people’s thoughts. I can read their personal energy. I KNOW when someone is lying to me, trying to keep secrets, or trying to manipulate me. I want to ask of certain people I know who repeatedly try to hide things from me, “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE FOOLING?”
  9. I’m not afraid to cut people off who have been intentionally cruel to me, betrayed me, lied to me or tried to cheat me. This is equally true of those who purposefully and thoughtfully infringe on my boundaries. I would rather spend the rest of my life alone than put up with other people’s morally questionable or needy behaviors.
  10. I don’t do needy. I will slam the door at the first sign of dependency’s tentacles. Bye!
  11. Perhaps related, I am independent, self-sufficient, and for most of my life, I have been the source of my own need-fulfillment. I fill my own cup. It’s not my job to fill yours. I might be able to support you in learning to fill your own cup, but I won’t fill it for you.
  12. I do not and will not enable others. My mission is to empower, not to feed our dying system of co-dependency.

For this and (perhaps many) other reasons, there are some in the world who think I’m an asshole. I’ve even said the same of myself, but I know that’s not really true.  If it is, it’s only because we live in culture that is profoundly arrested in its development that has no idea what to do with self-actualized humans except to condemn them. I’ve been condemned and I’ve survived this too. (another reason for people to hate me. 😊

Why I Choose the Bear

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Trigger Warning!  Trigger Warning!  Trigger Warning!

I was a victim of sexual assault. The assault happened in 1983 in my freshman year in college. I was out with a pack of girlfriends for a night of cocktails and dancing at the Fieldhouse bar in Iowa City, Iowa. I woke up the next morning in a stranger’s apartment. I didn’t know how I’d gotten there. In my right mind I would never have gone.  I understand now that I was likely drugged – and I’ll leave it to you to fill in the blanks.

The thing that still gets me is that in the fragments of memory I do have of that night: I don’t remember the guy, but I remember him parading me past my girlfriends, past the bouncers, and past a group of my male friends who had congregated outside the bar. Not one single person thought to ask if I was leaving of my own volition or questioned this stranger escorting me away – most especially my male friends. They knew me. They knew who I hung with. They were friends with my boyfriend at the time. They would have known that I did not know this man and that I shouldn’t be leaving with him. Yet nobody did a thing. I’m not blaming my male friends – I’m just making note of their inaction in what turned out to be a dangerous situation.

This was not the last time I experienced inappropriate sexual behavior on the part of a male. It’s not the last time I witnessed other men looking the other way. In my 59 years I have witnessed time and time again 1) a sense of entitlement some men have as it relates to sex  2) the coercion, guilt, shame, and other tools used by unhealthy men to “get” women to have sex with them, 3) the tools some men use to inflict power over a woman, intentionally putting her into a vulnerable state of unease (ie: unsolicited dick pics) and 4) the stories they tell each other about their conquests, their sexual prowess, and the power they feel over women.

In my lifetime we have become more aware of the power dynamics used against women for sexual purposes, but still NO ONE DOES ANYTHING ABOUT IT!  Case in point: The New York appeals court just overturned the sexual assault charges against Harvey Weinstein.  So much for #metoo. 

All of this, and for so many more reasons I shouldn’t have to bring forward here, I choose the bear!  Why? Because life has shown me that not only strange men, but so-called friends, and partners can be dangerous. But even more than the direct, personal experiences of assault, manipulation, objectification, or abuse of power, I still see that NO ONE DOES ANYTHING ABOUT IT.

When a man commits an offense against a woman, men look the other way. No, not all men (why do we have to keep saying this?), but enough of them that it feels like the norm. THIS is what needs to change. We already know that abuse against women IS the norm (83% of women have experienced some form of sexual harassment or assault in their lifetime!). It is not the women who need to change (their behavior, dress, makeup, way they walk, where they spend time), it is the men.

If men want women to choose them over the bear, then men need to step up. Hold their brothers accountable. Call out those they see acting inappropriately toward women. And when they see a woman who is being harmed or at risk of being harmed, GET HELP. Don’t stand there looking the other way because you are afraid by making waves you might lose your man card. If men want women to choose them over the bear, then they need to do something about men seeming like more of a threat to woman than a huge-ass bear.

*If you have suffered sexual violence and need help, please reach out! The Sexual Abuse Hotline is available 24/7. Learn more here: https://www.rainn.org/

A Poet’s Life

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 2 Comments

This morning I was reminded of why poets are so often misunderstood. This reminder came in the form of an innocent enough social media post where I shared the following words:

These are sentiments of a feeling I had for one single second – no longer than the blink of an eye or an intake of breath.  The feeling surfaced. Followed by the awareness. Then I wrote about it. I felt it for a few more moments. Then it was gone. I didn’t dwell on it. I didn’t wallow in it. I didn’t self-flagellate over it. I felt it. I gave it a name. I gave the name a form.  Then it was done.

But that was not how social media understood it. Many took my sharing to mean I was feeling badly or depressed. Some thought I was sad or hurting. Others shared words of comfort or support.  I’m grateful for the expressions of support, but in that moment, I was really and truly fine. I was no longer feeling the feelings that sought form through my words. Perhaps these expressions of support were reflections of the senders’ own pain. Perhaps my words hit their own nerve. To these I offer support in return. But truly, I am fine.

Such is the life of a poet. The feelings of my words had passed. But there is truly no way for others to understand this. There is also no way that those who are not poetically inclined to understand the burning need to give expression to experience and words to what we feel. We just can’t help it.  These experiences become a burning inside that has to be released. For a poet – this release comes in the form of words. Patti Smith once said, “To be an artist is to see what others cannot.” I would suggest being a poet is to feel what others cannot and then be compelled to put that into word.

I can’t speak for other poets, but I know for myself, in addition to having no choice but to give expression to experience, I am also compelled to send it off into the world. Not because I want pity or attention, but in case there are others who have shared this experience and perhaps don’t yet have words for it, or permission to feel it. I write so others might experience validation, comfort, assent, or even consent. I hope that in sharing my words I might be giving another what they need to better know and understand themselves. For what better purpose could a poet possibly live?

Lauri Ann Lumby is the author of eleven published books, including five volumes of poetry. You can find her books on Amazon.com and other online resellers.

Amazon Bookstore

Chasing SEO

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Since 2008 when I opened my own business and became responsible for my own internet marketing, including email mailing lists, website, and now social media; the challenge has been to secure search engine optimization (SEO) – the idea we’ve all been sold that says the key to gaining customers is to master the use of keywords and keyword phrases related to your business – words and phrases that people would most likely use to find your product of services.  Maybe this SEO games works for some business owners, but I can attest that even after hiring no fewer than five so-called SEO experts, and following their guidance, I am no closer today to securing the promised “six-figure income” than I was in 2008.  In fact, when I ask students and clients how they found me, their response is either word of mouth, referral, or some miracle that led them to me. (shrugging my shoulders emoji). So for a little bit of tongue in cheek fun today, I’m penning a piece of poetry called Chasing SEO – using the so-called SEO formula to see if it gets me any attention. (smiley face emoji).

Chasing SEO – a Poem

Spirituality. Spiritual Formation. Spiritual but not religious.

Meditation. Mindfulness. Contemplative practices.

Meditation practice. Learning meditation. How to meditate.

How to develop a meditation practice.

How to pray. Prayer. Praying. Praying for peace. Does prayer matter?

Does prayer work?

Can I be Catholic and meditate? Is meditation the path to the devil? Is meditation a sin?

Recovering Catholic. Leaving the Catholic Church. Recovering from Church trauma.

Priest sexual abuse. Sexual abuse trauma. Healing from sexual abuse. Healing from Priest sexual abuse. Ecclesial trauma.

Being priest. Priesthood. Priestess. Priestesshood. Becoming a priestess. Being a priestess.

Religion. Psychology. Scholarship.

Mary Magdalene. Was Mary Magdalene Jesus’ wife? Why is Mary Magdalene important?

Was Mary Magdalene a sinner? What where the demons of Mary Magdalene?

Did Jesus really rise from the dead? What is resurrection?

Why does Jesus matter? Does Jesus matter?  Did Jesus live? Was Jesus real?

Is the bible real? Who wrote the bible? Should we believe the bible?

Forgiveness.  What is forgiveness? How many times are we to forgive? Why is forgiveness important? How do I forgive my abuser?

Midlife. Midlife Crisis. Hormones. Menopause. Perimenopause. Aging. Natural Aging. Embracing Aging. Women and aging.

Normal human development. Healthy human development. Stages of human development.

Stages of spiritual development.

The enneagram. Myers-Briggs. Junian theory.

Who was Carl Jung?

Tarot. Tarot cards. Are tarot cards evil?

Reiki. Is Reiki the work of the devil? Reiki healing. Is Reiki Buddhist?

Is Lauri Lumby Catholic?

Is Lauri Lumby a witch?

Catholic witch. Women’s ordination. Should women be ordained?

Clericalism. The evils of clericalism.

Collapse of the empire. The end of the patriarchy. Societal Collapse.

New world. Bringing forth a new world.

Gen X. Gen Y. Millennials. Boomers.

Spiritual counseling. Pastoral counseling. Mentoring.

Is spiritual counseling the same as life-coaching?

What training do you need to become a Spiritual Director?

Spiritual Direction.

Love. Choosing love. Being love. Finding peace. Seeking contentment.

Who am I? Mission. Purpose. Unique giftedness.

How do I find meaning and purpose in my life?

Does any of this really matter?

I guess we’ll find out.

Poet Prophet Priest

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Over twenty-five years of doing the work I do in the world, and I still don’t know how to explain to people what I do!  Recently I landed upon three words that at least approach the idea of how I function and how that leads to the work I do and the gifts I share in the world.

Poet: Patti Smith once said: “To be an artist is to see what others cannot.” This is how it is with me. I see the world and all of life’s experiences through a depth beyond normal sight. I look beyond appearances to the mystery wherein lies the signs and symbols revealing meaning. I see through my eyes, but more directly, through my feelings. I feel what I see and what is beyond what I see. Herein I seek the beauty beyond the tragedy and the death that lies beyond the veil of perceived beauty. All that glitters is not gold. THEN, I am compelled/forced to put what I see and feel into words. Whether poetry or prose, all that I write is poetic.

Poetic: having an imaginative or sensitively emotional style of expression.

(Oxford English Dictionary)

Prophet: Albert Nolan defines a prophet as “one who is able to see the signs of the times.” More specifically, Nolan says:

Prophets are people who speak out when others remain silent. They are watchful of the areas in need of reform in their own society, their own country, or their own religious institutions. True prophets are men and women who stand up and speak (or act) out about the practices of their own people and their own leaders – while others remain silent. True prophets are not part of the authority structure. Prophets are never appointed, ordained or anointed by the religious establishment. They experience a special calling that comes directly from God, and their message comes from their own personal experience of God.

(Jesus Today – a Spirituality of Radical Freedom (Orbis Books, 2008, pp. 63-67)

Guilty!  If you have observed my work, my writing, my sharing, my community and global participation, you will agree. I speak what I see. I call out systems of injustice. I hold the world to the same standards I hold myself. AND I see where things are going and where we will end up if we continue along the current path.

Being a prophet is not like being a fortune teller.  Instead, it is made up of the practices of deep observation, a knowledge and understanding of human behavior, and applying my own skills of reason and logic. Prophecy isn’t miraculous. Seeing prophetically is a skill accessible to anyone with eyes to see and the logic to comprehend what we are seeing. Being a prophet isn’t really any different than understanding that 1+1=2.  The only difference is that being a prophet, we are compelled to speak what we see.

Priest: Calling myself priest is a tricky one, as the word and vocation itself has been corrupted beyond recognition and for centuries used to inflict all kinds of evils upon our world. In the pre-patriarchal traditions, a priest was a woman or man of the clan who were recognized as possessing certain gifts – gifts of healing, counsel, and teaching. The priest’s gifts came through a deep sensitivity to mystery and an ability to see, hear, and feel beyond the tangible world. The priest communed with the beyond and as such, was able to guide people during the transitory times of life – specifically: birth, growth, loss, and death. The priest was recognized as a leader and of great value to the clan, while being just one in the intimate workings of the community. The priest wasn’t above any other member of the tribe, but stood in circle with all the other gifts required to ensure the tribe’s survival and thrival.

If I claim to be priest, it is more in line with this pre-patriarchal imagining of priesthood and not at all like what we have come to know through institutional religion. Bottom line:  I am here to serve humanity through the gifts that I have and the calling I’ve been given. It’s no wonder I’m the person people turn to when the shit hits the fan, the bottom falls out, and all other efforts have been exhausted. I jokingly say that I might be the Pastor of Oshkosh, but this is not far from the truth as many of my local community will attest.

Poet. Prophet Priest. Yeah.  I can live with that and it’s the best I can do in a world where the work I do still defies definition!

Poet

Visit Lauri’s bookstore for all her poetic writings.

Bookstore

Prophet

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Priest

Lauri is available for one-on-one spiritual counseling.

Learn more here.

Living Below the Mean

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Since 2011 I have been living below the mean and median income of my local community of Oshkosh, WI. Many of those years I have lived far below the poverty level for a family of three.

I’m sharing this information, not for pity, but to put a face on poverty and to shine a light on how most of the people in our community live. For you see, there is a profound misconception in our community (and likely others) of those who live in poverty. Contrary to popular misconceptions, many (likely most) of those who live below the mean are educated, hard-working, responsible, individuals who either by choice or circumstance are making a living much lower than that of their peers.

For me, living below the mean has been part choice and part circumstance. After my divorce, I chose to continue to be as available for my children as I had been during my marriage. I wanted to continue the business I had begun to build while married and maintain the flexibility required when co-parenting two children. I chose to work during the time my children were with their father and adjusted that according to his travel schedule. I packed an easy 40 hours into the work days I had available – making the most of the time I had while dedicating the rest of the time to my children. These choices, and the reality of owning a service business, meant that we didn’t have many extras. I also made many sacrifices so my children could have what they needed. These were personal choices that I gladly made, and my children prove to me daily that I made the right choice. They are absolutely fabulous human beings of whom I could not be more proud!

Then there are the circumstances. Being a sole proprietor in a service industry has its ups and downs. Some years are better than others and location makes a difference. If I were in a bigger city like Minneapolis or Chicago, the work I do is considered common place and is part of the everyday language. When I say “spiritual director” or “Reiki Master” in Oshkosh, all I get is blank stares. Things began to improve as I took my business online, but then you must compete with the millions of others who are seemingly doing what you are doing (they’re not, but the general population doesn’t get that).

In short, I work in a fringe industry and a lot of the fringe doesn’t have money either.  Yes, I could look for other employment, and I have, but when you throw education, experience, and age into the mix, the reality of ageism kicks in and you find yourself relegated to the “secretary pool” where you’re not really wanted because you know how to and have had the experience of thinking for yourself.  It’s a lose-lose situation, one I know I’m not alone in as I chat with my friends of a certain age who have similarly found it difficult to secure gainful employment – even after a lifetime of experience in their chosen industry.

This is the reality. I have my own business (which hasn’t done well the last couple years), and a part-time clerical job. I’m making barely enough to pay my rent (in an increasingly expensive housing market) and a few odd things. Somehow it always works out, but usually by the skin of my teeth. AND I’m one of the lucky ones. Living close to or below the mean means that there are MANY who are living with far less. In this I am humbled and grateful. I also have the support of friends and family who regularly step in with support and I know who I can turn to if I’m really in trouble. Most people don’t have that. So again, I’m grateful.

Finally, I want to make it really clear to those in the back who continue to maintain a certain perception and attitude toward people like myself living below the mean:

  • For me it’s a choice and a circumstance. For MOST it’s not a choice.
  • I am a college educated 58 year old woman.  I have a BA in Business and Marketing. A Masters in Transpersonal Psychology. AND several advanced certificates and specialized trainings. I have run my own business since 2003 and in that time have published eleven books and over thirty online courses and trainings. I work hard and continue to offer my services on a sliding scale because I know MANY could not otherwise afford them. I have also continually been an active and involved member of our community.

Oh yeah, then there’s the chronic illness. That just adds another layer in considering choices and circumstances that impact the reality of living below the mean.

*Image credit: https://www.point2homes.com/US/Neighborhood/WI/Oshkosh-Demographics.html