Lauri’s Personal Reflections

Hating Our Bodies?

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

I’m not exactly sure when I started hating my body. I do know I didn’t always hate it. In fact, for a fair part of my childhood I didn’t give my body a second thought. It just was. It wore clothes. It gave me movement. It housed my organs and my mind and in some invisible place, my soul.

I’m guessing the hatred started somewhere between puberty and girls suddenly getting separated into categories of pretty (ie: popular) or smart.  Apparently if you were smart you couldn’t be pretty, even if you were.  As such, smart = unpopular – which mostly meant boys didn’t like you so neither did the pretty girls. (I still don’t consider myself attractive even though many have insisted otherwise). Ugh!

I’m guessing it started there. From that point forward, I learned to idealize thin, and came up with the idea that 113 pounds on my 5 foot seven frame was my goal. For many years, 113 was no problem.  I ate what I wanted. I didn’t concern myself with exercise. I just naturally stayed somewhere between 113 and 115 pounds. Then things began to change and my frustration with my body’s refusal to comply with my wishes turned to hatred. In a subconscious attempt to reinforce this self-hatred, I made sure to only date men who were equally, if not more, obsessed with emaciated women. Now I had two voices in my head shaming me for eating or daring to have flesh on my bones.

Tens of years, two children, chronic illness, menopause, medication, and tens of pounds later, I still despise my body. What’s most ironic about the hatred now is that I’m finally the size and shape I always imagined myself to be even when I weighed a really unhealthy 113. The weight I carry now is not for lack of healthy exercise or because of poor food choices. In fact, I’m not sure my food choices could be any better. I am aware, however, of the complete lack of enjoyment in eating, and all that I deprive myself of enjoying because “it might make me even more fat!”  UGH! I also know that by 99% of the population’s standards, I am nowhere near fat, but I think I am, and that’s all that matters.

And I know I’m not alone. I despise our culture for what it has done to women in causing us to hate our bodies. It would be easy to cast a finger of blame at the media, fashion magazines, TV, and movies. They’re an easy target. Another less obvious target: The American Medical system. We’re all familiar!  At every doctor visit we’re weighed and measured, asked how we eat, and how often we exercise. Then our blood is tested for anything that might indicate early death from heart disease from being too FAT. I’m not eschewing good health, but who is it that is determining what is healthy and what is not? You got it – white American men who have been conditioned by the same “stay thin” mentality as we have.  ☹

But what if we’re not fat? Better yet, why does it matter?  Some of the most attractive women I know have abundant curves. Right off the bat I think of actress and model Liris Crosse and clothing designer Kenya Freeman. Beautiful, curvy, healthy women who are enjoying life and loving themselves. I want to love myself like they seemingly do.

Don’t we all?  What would happen if we really started loving ourselves? Loving our bodies exactly how they are without having to squeeze, starve, manipulate, torture, botox our bodies into some idealized form that isn’t even real. 113 was only healthy for me when I was a pre-pubescent teen. As a post-menopausal woman of 58, despite what our culture and even our medical system want to tell me, my current weight must be the right one for me because I’m doing all the right things. This is simply where my body wants to be. Not to mention, a few extra pounds after menopause is actually a good thing as it is in fat that estrogen is stored which we desperately need to keep our bones healthy and strong.

I know this all in my head but that doesn’t change the unhealed wounds or the voice in my head that continues to shame me for being “fat” and which is constantly chastising me for not being thin. It’s a constant voice in my head.

This is where I turn to my spiritual practice and the Authentic Freedom protocol I developed for healing these inner wounds. For the next thirty days, I am committing myself to a “Loving my Body” practice.  Perhaps, you would like to join me.

Image Credit: Bjørn Christian Tørrissen, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Know Your Worth

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 3 Comments

You are a precious child of God/Love, of this there can be no doubt. And yet, life often wears us down to the point where we forget this critical truth.

Worn down is exactly where I have been as I’ve watched the work of thirty years die on the vine. All of that by which I had come to define myself seems to have come to an end. My children are grown up and out of the house. The books I had in me are out in the world. My burst of artistic creativity in the form of spiritual icons seems to have lost its fire. My remaining clients and students are few. It’s not enough to sustain me financially so I’ve been forced to “get a real job.” It’s a good “real job,” but it’s only part time and still not enough (just barely covers my rent and a few of my regular bills).

Life is strange when you’re fifty-eight and you find there’s nothing left in your hands. It’s even stranger when well-meaning friends, relatives, and even strangers try to offer encouragement, support and things you could “do” to drum up more business.

Sigh. I feel like I’ve done all that. I have no more efforting in me. The desire to hustle for my business died long ago and the thought of creating marketing materials to target a whole new audience exhausts me beyond exhaustion.

I’m too old for this shit. Been there done that…..and what exactly do I have to show for all the darn efforting and for everything I sacrificed to pursue what I still believe is my calling. I have the gifts for it and people benefit from the sharing of my gifts. But still……

Yesterday well-meaning ideas were put before me and my whole body recoiled. I could feel my Soul entering panic mode and my mind started to shut down. Knowing my own discernment response, I excused myself from the gathering and acknowledged that there was something out of alignment for me with the suggestions. I brought this awareness into my sleep and welcomed it into my prayers this morning.

As it turned out, the Universe had a lot to say.

  1. A FB post from a friend in which she said, “I no longer know who I am.” BOOM!  That hit me between the eyeballs!  Ditto sister!
  2. Reading the Tao, words that remind my Soul of my truth:

Bend and you will be whole.

Keep empty and you will be filled.

Have little and you will gain.

3. Scripture randomly floating into my brain:

Don’t cast your pearls before swine. (MT 7:6)

4. And a reading from my Kali oracle deck:

Your path need not be one of endless effort.

All of these a reminder to know my worth, trusting and honoring what I know about myself and my own truth. I’m done casting my gifts to the wind and having them either blow back in my face, fall on the ground in front of me, or get blown away never to return. I know my worth and whatever the Universe has in store for this empty vessel that I’ve become will find its way to me for I am indeed a precious child of God/Love.   

Divinely Ordained

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 1 Comment

The other night I was gifted with a timely dream that provided both a reminder and an invitation.

In the dream, I was preparing to co-preside with two other priests of a different church. Both had already donned their traditional vestments. Not one to go for traditional, I was pulling on a long, black, cardigan made of light weight spandex/cotton. After pulling on the robe, I looked into the mirror and saw that my robe had changed and I was now wearing the garb of the ancient high priests. My first thoughts were of the High Priests of the Jewish tradition, but the robes seemed to predate even those. As I gazed into the mirror, I heard the following words:

“High Priest according to the Order of Melchizedek.”

The Order of Melchizedek is mentioned three times in scripture:

Genesis 14: 17-20:

Melchizedek, the king of Salem, offered bread and wine. As a priest of God Most High,he blessed Abram with these words,

“Blessed be Abram by God Most High,
    Creator of the heavens and the earth.
And blessed be God Most High
    who has delivered your enemy into your hands.”

Then Abram gave him a tithe of all he had taken.

Psalm 110: 3-4

Yours is royal dignity in the day of your birth;
    in holy splendor, before the daystar,
    like the dew, I have begotten you.”[e]
The Lord has sworn,
    and he will not retract his oath:
“You are a priest forever[f]
    according to the order of Melchizedek.”

Hebrews 7: 1-3

This Melchizedek, the king of Salem and a priest of God Most High, met Abraham as he was returning from his defeat of the kings, and he blessed him. Abraham gave him a tenth of everything. His name first means “king of righteousness,” and then “king of Salem,” that is, “king of peace.” Without father, or mother, or genealogy, and without beginning of days or end of life, thus bearing a resemblance to the Son of God, he remains a priest forever. 

The Order of Melchizedek is considered a primordial priesthood, one that predates Judaism, and therefore Christianity, and is a priesthood available to anyone who is thusly ordained. Unlike the modern expressions of priesthood that requires a specific kind of formation, along with a formal ordination ceremony through which one human imparts the ordination onto another (as in Catholic Bishops ordaining Catholic priests), the priesthood in the Order of Melchizedek is divinely ordained. As such, the Order of Melchizedek transcends religion, dogma, doctrine, and belief. Instead, it is an inner calling, revealed over time to those so-called. While formation may establish the foundation upon which this calling may take root, that formation will be unique to each individual and may come formally through an outside guide, or inwardly through our own awakening and depth work.

For several years, I have been aware of this calling.  I have even developed a training program according to my own desire to be formed in and live out this calling.  I was simply led to the resources and tools, embarked upon the study and embodiment myself, and then put it into a form that could be undertaken by others. Even so, I’m still not sure what it means to be a high priest according to the Order of Melchizedek!

The timing of this dream is interesting as I find myself at a crossroads of sorts. I’m not alone in this crossroads as I am aware of many who are facing a similar point of no return. The lives we have lived and known for the past fifteen or more years are coming to an end. Those things that have provided a source of income, supporting (in many cases BARELY) our livelihoods are coming to a natural conclusion. In this, I currently find myself standing in the middle of a completely blank slate. It seems all I’ve known and all the ways I’ve provided for myself and my family have come to an end, and there is absolutely nothing on the horizon. To say I’m at peace with this crossroads would be a lie. It’s terrifying! In my best moments I can relax into trust. In my worst moments I feel lost, forsaken, and defeated.

Enter the dream. What does it mean? What is it heralding, acknowledging, affirming? When I enter deep reflection, I see two things: 1) The conclusion of my 3d mission. 2) Me standing in the 5d world with no idea of what I’m supposed to do or how I’m supposed to be in this new world. This is obviously related to an earlier post about adapting to a new way of being.

Is the High Priesthood according to the Order of Melchizedek the new way of being? What does that even mean?

What I do know is what it DOES NOT mean!  The priesthood that I have felt inwardly calling to me has absolutely nothing to do with what we have known and experienced as priesthood.  My priesthood has nothing to do with hierarchy, power, or privilege. My priesthood is not one of separation where the priest is set apart as special or better. My priesthood doesn’t require special robes, prescribed scriptures, ritual, a name, or even a building. My priesthood would be free of anything that creates and thrives in separation. Instead, my priesthood would be more of a heterarchy (involve relations of interdependence) – an interdependent collaboration of service to one another, each using their own unique gifts for the sake of their own fulfillment and in service to the betterment of the world.  

But how does one live that out? How does one make that happen? As the dream seems to suggest, it’s already happened and is happening. The dream acknowledged the priesthood I have been given and have already been living out. Maybe that was all the dream was saying:

See. This is who you are.  Own it.

Clericalism by Any Other Name…

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Just because one leaves the Catholic Church to become a priest elsewhere doesn’t mean one has escaped the dangers of clericalism. In fact, some of those I have known to take the collar elsewhere have been the most guilty of behaviors consistent with clericalism.

Clericalism:

            a policy of maintaining or increasing the power of a religious hierarchy.

a disordered attitude toward clergy, an excessive deference and an assumption of their

moral superiority

Throughout my life I have felt the call to serve humanity on behalf of the mission of Love. In the Catholic tradition in which I was raised women had two options: become a nun or a lay minister. I chose the latter. After leaving the Catholic Church, priesthood became an option to explore if I was willing to join a different denomination.

Three times I entered discernment into the priesthood through three different denominations. One I chose not to explore further because their theology of sacrament didn’t match my own. The other two, in theory, shared my theology, but in the end, it was clericalism that turned me away.

Clericalism, as I have personally experienced it is a priest (of any gender) who acts as if they are better than, separate from, or in a position of power over those to whom they are called to serve. Clericalism is anything that deems a priest special and better simply by virtue of being a priest.

Fr. David Doyle, my twelfth grade religion teacher, for example, dared to proclaim his ability to go immediately to heaven after he died NO MATTER his state of sinfulness. Even if he had murdered someone he got to go to heaven before us simply by virtue of his ordination.  At least, this is what he claimed. I told him he was wrong.

Some of the behaviors and examples of clericalism are obvious: hierarchical and patriarchal behaviors and attitudes, believing they are God, thinking the rules don’t apply to them, lacking accountability and/or anyone to hold them accountable, hypocrisy, etc.

Others are more subtle: adoration of the collar and priestly vestments, treating women clergy as subservient, giving women clergy lesser positions or less desirable assignments, preaching collaboration while acting autocratically.

In my mind when one is called to serve it is as an equal. I am no different than the people who I am called to serve. I recoil from anything that would seek to set me apart or marks me as different. It is for this reason that even when discerning priesthood, I had no plans to wear a collar, or put on vestments. Jesus didn’t wear vestments. He dressed as the people he served. So when those with whom I was discerning priesthood spoke of their adoration of the collar and “what happens” when they don priestly vestments, I listened more closely! When the man who was discerning priesthood with me and who had invited me to start a community with him made important community decisions behind my back and when I called him out for it and he responded with “why are you always picking on me?” (ie….why are you always holding me accountable), then I got the Fuck out!

Later, I discerned with another denomination. When the Bishop of this denomination denied the fact of declining enrollment and said there was no need to explore alternatives, I had deep questions. When the priest with whom I was discerning priesthood spoke of how I would be working FOR HIM I stopped in my tracks.  Later when I learned that the women deacons in this denomination ARE NOT PAID for the work they do even though they were doing EVERYTHING for the priest and even stood in for HIM when he was out of town, I ran!

After these and many other examples of clericalism in the priesthood I left that discernment behind. True priesthood, after all, has nothing to do with a collar, or vestments, or a perceived position of power. True priesthood doesn’t require that some other man place his hands on your head giving you “the power” to be a source of love in the world. True priesthood is part of our very nature when we seek to be a source of love in the world and to serve the betterment of our world through the sharing of our own unique gifts.

My Ecclesial Abusers Know Who They Are

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 2 Comments

When the torch bearers and pitchfork carrying Catholics came for me no one came to my aid. Not the priests I worked with, the bishops, not their chancellor. All were either silent or joined in on the abuse.

“How does teaching the Lord’s Prayer in Jesus’ native tongue fit into Catholic Teaching?”

…..um…..how does it not!?

“Eastern (Buddhist) practices are dangerous.”

….Isn’t this what Fathers Keating and Pennington are doing? Didn’t the Vatican II council encourage the exploration of other religions and their practices for the sake of understanding? How is Centering Prayer different from Zen practice?

“Reiki is witchcraft, sorcery, and the work of the devil.”

            Didn’t Jesus command us to heal the sick and didn’t he lay on hands to do so?

Round and round and round they went questioning my integrity, calling me names, spreading falsehoods and lies, turning people against me, harassing me in letters, emails, and even to my face. They went so far as to send 6 “spies” to attend one of my classes who harassed me throughout the entire two hours depriving those who wanted to be there from the experience they came to enjoy.

All I ever did was take Jesus’ teachings seriously and do what he called us to do.  And yet, not one single man of the cloth stood up for me or spoke in my defense. Not even the ones who knew me best and even encouraged me to do this work. Instead, the priests all stood with the vocal minority.

The one who regularly came to me to receive hands-on-healing in the form of Reiki, to him I gave thirty pieces of silver when the abuse finally drove me out. To this day, I have kept all his secrets.  Father ___, you know who you are!

The Silencing of Freedom-Speaking Women

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 1 Comment

Have you noticed how a priest has an automatic platform for his voice? Through no gift of his own or his own message to give, he goes to school for a few years and viola, he gets to stand before tens, if not thousands, and they listen to him. His message might be shit, or his words the same old sermon they’ve heard a million times, but still they listen. The priest did nothing to deserve this, and nothing to earn it.  He simply gets a platform from which to speak simply by virtue of his collar, and the penis that got him there.

Not so for women. Not so. Instead, there is no place for our voice or our own message except that which we’ve wrestled for ourselves – in back alleys, in dark corners of coffee shops or bars, between bookstore and library shelves where the women’s literature hides. A hasty, hushed whisper is all we’re allowed while priests gather flocks through no merit of their own.

Were it not for the vagina, I might have been a priest. Thank Goddess The Mother knew better. My skin crawls over the harm priests have caused – those who are men, and more recently those with breasts who also strive to wear the collar. Only slaves wear collars. In the case of the Church, slaves that seek to enslave.  No Thank You!

How can one preach freedom within an institution that enslaves? You can’t! This is why freedom-speaking women are rarely given a stage – especially those who point out the hypocrisy of those who tell freedom lies. The Institution’s response instead, is to silence these women.

The Church doesn’t want us to be free.

And yet, we persist. Speaking of love and the promise of freedom til the very day we die, even if all who ever hear us are the desert’s grains of sand.

When the Rejected Becomes the Cornerstone

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 3 Comments

This week I was given a lived experience of a lesson I had planned for my online community. Instead, of being able to present the lesson, however, I was writhing on my couch in the lived experience of it. Interestingly, it is not unusual that I am required to live out a lesson before I’m able to share it.

The lesson I had planned was based on the following psalm:

The stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.

Psalm 118

The Stone

This is how I came to live out the planned lesson:

I have a medical condition called chronic vestibular neuritis. What this means is layperson’s terms is that a virus caused permanent damage to my vestibular nerve.

From Wikipedia: The vestibular nerve plays an implicit role in maintaining blood pressure, maintaining balance control, spatial memory and spatial navigation during movement. 

Damage to the vestibular nerve can lead to intermittent and ongoing issues of vertigo, giddiness, sensitivity to light and sound, and migraines. This is exactly how I have experienced this disorder. I’ve exhausted all efforts in seeking a cure or effective treatment and have found neither. Instead, I’m stuck with the reality of this disorder:

  1. Due to this disorder, I can no longer drive on highways or long distances.
  2. Due to this disorder, I am often stricken with giddiness (feeling unbalanced, dizzy, or light headed).
  3. Due to this disorder, I am sometimes stricken with an excruciatingly painful migraine that might be limited to my head and neck, or sometimes encompasses my whole body.

Changes in barometric pressure or dramatic weather changes can trigger my symptoms. Wine is sometimes a trigger. Poor seating ergonomics and too much time on my computer are also triggers. Sometimes I can’t point my finger at what the cause might be. The position of the stars? A comet flying past? Solar flares?  Who knows!?

The Rejection

This week I was struck by the symptoms of this disorder and was forced to spend two days on the couch.

To say I hate that I have this condition would be an understatement.  Since 2016, when I was first stricken with the virus that caused vestibular nerve damage, I have struggled with the ongoing and intermittent symptoms. Mostly I have struggled with the limitations caused by this disorder.  I hate that I am no longer free to just get in my car and drive where I want.  I hate that I have to ask my friends or my children to drive me. I hate that there are some days when even local driving is excruciating – like on those bad weather days where the wind is blowing, snow is pouring down, and my windshield wipers are going. Between the pressure and the movement, I feel like I’m going to die.

My overachieving workaholic “needs to be productive to feel valued” self, hates that there are many days where I am completely unable to work because the pain, the light, the sounds, the smells, and any kind of movement forces me to retreat into darkness.  I writhe in pain while wallowing in the inner voices of chastisement telling me I’m being weak and lazy for not pushing through the pain to get things done. UGH!  (Who said the “protestant work ethic” was a good thing?  I’m not even Protestant!)

In short, chronic vestibular neuritis and all its accompanying symptoms has been a stone that I have rejected. I have hated this about myself. I have been frustrated at the medical professional’s inability to offer me an effective treatment or cure. Even the diagnosis took years to confirm (I knew what it was through my own research YEARS before my doctor could tell me what it was!). I have grown tired of all those well-meaning folks who try to offer up their own cures and treatments for something about which they do not know.

The Cornerstone

During all these many years of rejecting the stone of vestibular neuritis, has also been the whispering invitation of surrender and acceptance. After exhausting all other efforts, what choice does one really have?  I can continue to be angry, frustrated, resentful, impatient, and condemning of my symptoms, but what good does that do me?  Instead, (along with the accompanying symptoms of grief) I have tried to look at what this disorder might be inviting me into.  The invitation is really quite obvious and is known in what the disorder has forced me to do:

  1. Be vulnerable and humble enough to ask for and accept help with those things I can no longer do for myself (like drive).
  2. Take advantage of my good days. Do what I can do, without pushing myself and let go of the rest.
  3. Surrender to the bad days. It’s ok to do nothing. It’s ok to cancel plans. It’s ok to forego commitments.

The more subtle invitation has been to reorder and restructure my life away from my workaholic tendencies, and toward a gentler, more ease-full flow. No longer do I feel the need to fit into the standard American model of work. I have more and more fully embraced the fact that I couldn’t work a “regular job” if I tried. Only in running my own business do I have the freedom to work in a way that is necessary to maintain my health (oh yeah…..there’s that degenerative kidney disease I have too) and respond to my unpredictably changing symptoms.

In doing this, the rejected stone of chronic illness has become the cornerstone upon which the current foundation of my life is established.

What have you rejected about your own life experience that might be seeking to become a cornerstone?

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Proof I’m Invisible

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 6 Comments

or living in a different dimension!

For many years I’ve suspected I might be invisible – or at least partly so. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I can name at least a hundred specific instances where I am certain that I’m not being seen, and perhaps a thousand where my words are not being heard.

I remember a specific time in graduate school, for example, where I was in a room of fifty students, along with several professors and the president of the university. It was a “town hall meeting” where we were having an open discussion about the recent change in ownership, leadership, and curriculum in the program in which I was enrolled. I remember standing up to share my specific thoughts on this dramatic transition and I literally saw my words go up into the air and land in the middle of the room while those leading the meeting looked at me with blank stares. It was as if they didn’t hear a word said and couldn’t comprehend that I had spoken. I looked to my left and right to the students around me who were nodding in agreement and support with what I had said.

They heard me, but those enmeshed in the system could not.

Another example of my apparent invisibility (not really invisibility per se, more proof that at times I’m operating in a whole different plane than those around me) happened while driving in a snowstorm with my kid to my brother’s wedding. We decided to stop for a coffee on the way and as we pulled into the turn lane, a car that had been in front of us, was suddenly beside us waving and screaming at us. They were acting as if we had hit them, or had almost hit them, but we hadn’t. The only way I can explain what happened is that we drove through a portal in time that catapulted us from behind to beside the car, causing them great confusion and upset.

What inspired this post is a third proof of my invisibility, one that happened just this morning. A few months back I had submitted a proposal to present at a local writer’s conference. This morning I received their response:

I’m sorry but your proposal did not make the cut. Individuals reasons varied but if I had to give an across-the-board a tip for next year, it would be to focus on the craft/technique of writing, as opposed to marketing/branding/social media.

My proposal had NOTHING to do with social media, marketing, or branding. Instead, it specifically addressed the craft/technique of character development using a specific and unique tool from the field of transpersonal psychology.  Among my words that specifically addressed the craft of writing:

…supports fiction writers in creating authentically complex characterization while assisting them in navigating the unique features within each character’s storyline…

It seems the conference committee completely missed the point of my proposal. There was not a single word related to marketing, branding or social media, and everything relating to the craft of writing.

All I can do is shake my head in befuddlement. One among a million examples of proof that I am invisible and that only those operating on a similar plane as I can hear or comprehend my words. It’s no wonder I choose to remain in my cave and apart from the world to whom I don’t exist. I do, however, find comfort in knowing I’m not alone in this.  As Jesus once said, “for those who have ears to hear and eyes to see.”  Those who need to see and hear me do. The rest, I guess, are not mine to serve.

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Lamenting a Cruel World

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 6 Comments

A dearly beloved friend recently observed of me:

“You are a formidable and vulnerable teacher.”

I could not disagree with him and I am deeply grateful for his ability to see and articulate my truth. There is something uniquely profound about truly being seen.

Whereas I may present to many/most as a strong, independent, formidable force, my truest self is deeply vulnerable and fragile. I, like most who are truly honest with themselves, have been wounded by this world. It may appear to many, in fact many have said this of me, “You got this.” As a responsible firstborn Capricorn with a conditioned defense mechanism of independence and dogged self-sufficiency, this may be a safe assumption. Except, on many days, I DO NOT GOT THIS, neither do I want to.

At nearly 58 years old, I’m tired of having to gather up my strength, and don my cloak of resilience in order to survive this world and to find my way through the broken glass and twisted brambles of humanity’s folly.

I wasn’t made for this level of violence. Neither was I made to withstand this much light or noise.

None of us were made for this. Yet few are willing to admit it.  Instead, we make excuses (or are conditioned to) for all of humanity’s bad behaviors.

There are no excuses for humanity’s cruelty, deception, lack of integrity, greed, abusive behavior, or betrayal. As a student and teacher of human development, I can assuredly say that every single human being (excepting perhaps sociopaths and psychopaths – but even they can pretend) has both the potential and the power to be loving, compassionate, generous, gentle, and kind. In other words, cruelty is a choice. Admittedly, a choice coming forth out of what are likely deeply unhealed wounds, but a choice, nonetheless. When I know (and provide) resources to support humanity in healing their wounds, this choice becomes even more apparent.

So yes, when I see humans being cruel to each other, taking advantage of others for the sake of their own pride or greed, making excuses for or justifying their bad behaviors, stabbing others in the back, robbing or stealing from each other, I am deeply saddened. I also find myself angered because I know that cruelty is a choice and cannot comprehend why anyone would choose it.

Like I have often said, I wasn’t made for this world. The good news is I know I’m not the only one not made for this world. If you are one who regularly chooses kindness, I hope that in sharing my own vulnerability this gives you permission to do the same, and if nothing else, helps you to know you are not alone.

Copyright Lauri Ann Lumby

Illness Designating Power

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Our whole lives we’ve been told that illness means there’s something wrong with us.  What if the reverse, in fact, is true?  What if illness is a gift that designates our power? Can we take what we’ve been told and have chosen to believe and turn it on its head? What if what we’ve been calling illness (chronic illness especially) is really the body’s only way, in an upside-down world, to create the environment the Soul needs to thrive?  What if chronic illness is the body responding to abuse of the Soul?  What if when suffering chronic illness (ie: fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, Epstein-Barr, migraine, vestibular disorders, anxiety, depression, panic attacks) there’s nothing wrong with us but is our body pointing out everything that is wrong with our world? What can we learn about our Soul and our body’s true needs through the symptoms our chronic illness throws at us? What happens if instead of fighting against illness we give our bodies what they need to feel safe in an unsafe world? How might our world begin to change when we start tending to the deeper needs of our Souls? How might our super-powers begin to emerge when we start tending to the needs of our Soul as dictated by our body?

Waking the Dead

I sang skin back onto my bones like a blanket’s warm embrace.

Enfolding in acceptance all that I am.

A dream within a dream of much more than simple acceptance.

A celebration really,

where a blanket becomes a robe of the deepest blood red.

Sovereign-earned.

Invoking a blessing of holiness

where that which I formerly condemned is honored as gift.

Where pathology is given a new name signifying magic.

And where illness designates power.

Then I sang a song of amens and hallelujahs!

Copyright Lauri Ann Lumby

Grief

When we are struggling with chronic illness or other debilitating and troublesome symptoms, we are cast into a grieving process. We experience all faces of grief – denial, bargaining, anger, depression, and sorrow as we move in the direction of coming to terms with our symptoms.

For twenty-five years, Lauri Ann Lumby has supported people in all forms of grieving. If you are in need of support in grieving your diagnosis (of often lack thereof), please reach out for an appointment.

Learn more HERE