prayer

When September Ends

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

I’m hoping that what comes through me here today provides some sort of comfort, or at the very least, validation and affirmation for the small community that finds its way here.

September sucked.

I can’t even begin to point at the whys or the hows of it, but September was a truly challenging month, for me, and for many others I know. I would be easy to point our fingers at the obvious – certain political and global events that cast the world into a frenzy. But that’s only on the macro. Closer to home, it seems that every person I know was faced with some sort of bizarre fuckery during the strange month of September.

For me, the strangeness included bizarre human behaviors, out of left-field conflicts, unhealthy people trying to project their unhealed shit on me, and over $600.00 in unexpected expenses.

All of the above is pretty much par for the course, but when I’m draining what little I have of a savings account to cover September’s extra expenses, I find myself in a place of real doubt and fear, and all of my most vulnerable questions resurface.

“Not having enough ($)” really is my core fear and the one that has been the most stubborn lesson for me in this life.

So this morning, as I dared to look at my checking account balance, and felt the visceral fears arise, I did the only thing I know to do:

I prayed.

Then I was led to a few resources that provided comfort and reassurance. In these I was reminded that THIS MOMENT is a temporary thing. THIS MOMENT is not the herald of doom.  Neither is it the object of my fate.

I was also reminded of the strange miracles that happened in the midst of September’s perceived struggles – miracles that arose out of what initially felt like doom. Certain ghosts of my past paid me a visit and, in these visits, old wounds and deep pain resurfaced. But once I was able to identify the theme, the miracle appeared, and a profound reconciliation took place.

This is what happens with struggle when we allow ourselves to BE WITH IT instead of trying to run away. I didn’t run when the ghosts re-emerged. I allowed myself to be with the depth of emotion and the heights of the pain. I sat with it. I raged. I wept. I raged some more.

Same with the money. I see the fear. I am aware of it. I’m fully conscious of the doubts that surface when I’m in the glut – mostly I question my place in this world and what I’m doing “wrong” with this one life I have. But like ghosts, I sit with the fear. I feel it. I pray. I ask for guidance.

This morning the guidance came. Recently, I have included a daily reading of poetry into my practice. This morning, these words from Mary Oliver pierced my anxious mind:

“Going to Walden is not so easy a thing

As a green visit. It is a slow and difficult

Trick of living, and finding it where you are.”

THIS!  We’re all looking for “Walden,” aren’t we? No matter how we define that, we are looking for that place of peace. Thoreau sought it and found it in his time at Walden Pond, but it was not the pond itself that was the source of peace. Thoreau discovered the true source of peace was within him – but he had to get quiet enough to find it. Walden gave him that quiet.

Whereas we are tempted to believe that escaping the hustle and bustle of our everyday life and struggles is what we need to find this peace, Oliver points out that everywhere is Walden. Rather, WE are Walden. What we are seeking is right here, right now, exactly where we are, and whatever is transpiring around us. We just need to be still enough, and willing to FEEL the full extent of our unease, to find it. Peace is where we are – no matter where, what, or how that is.

September comes. September ends. And still our fears remain. We do not, however, need to be the victim of those fears. Allowing ourselves to be with whatever struggles life hands us, while identifying and being with the resulting fears, is ultimately the pathway to peace.

THIS MOMENT is not our fate. Instead, it is the source of our salvation – when we have the courage to be with it….because as is always the case, “this too shall pass.”

What struggles did September bring to you?  How did you find your way through them?

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Letters from Hell #2 – Rest

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 2 Comments

This morning, my thoughts have turned to rest. Specifically, rest, that it seems I am needing a great deal more of. I never needed rest before – or at least I acted like I didn’t need it. I would work from before dawn to after dusk Monday through Sunday. Weekends were taken up with chores – cooking, cleaning, yardwork, being a mom, etc. etc. etc. There was no time for rest – rather, I rarely took the time.

But now, as we’ve been living in hell, it seems like all I want to do is rest.

I can’t help it. I’m tired. Damn tired.

Living in hell is exhausting. Between “hearing (and feeling) the cries of the world,” the increasing division and violence, and the constant bombardment of traumatic events and chaotic actions, I have very little left to give – to anything – other than survival.

It’s no wonder when the weekend comes all I really feel like doing is sitting at home, reading, napping, and watching TV. I have zero bandwidth (or money) for much else. I don’t want to go anywhere or be by anyone. And please don’t ask me to go somewhere where there will be crowds. I get enough of the energy of people during the week, and I really cannot tolerate any more.

I suspect I’m not alone in this – at least among those who are paying attention. As a healer and an empath, I feel it all  – every person’s emotions, feelings, anxieties, frustration, anger, and fear. I can’t help it. My body is like some kind of processor for all the darkness that is erupting in our world. It comes into me and moves through me. It seems I have no choice in the matter. It’s part of what I’m here to do and be. And trust me, it is not out of pride that I share this – because I would not wish this “job” on anyone.

With no choice in the matter, I do what I must to survive: 

First, my home is my sanctuary. I have created it into a place of refuge and safety. It is my hermitage, my monastery, my cloister. With three-foot-thick concrete walls, it is a fortress in which I feel safe. I am here mostly alone or in the company of loved ones or special clients. To the world, my home is invisible. To be found, you must have been given an invitation.

Second, when I’m not at the job that provides the income I need for basic survival, I’m at home. Except for visits to the yoga studio, running basic errands, visiting my favorite coffee shop, I’m home. At home, I am deeply immersed in my practice – meditation, prayer, reflecting, writing, reading, and praying some more. Increasingly, in prayer is how I spend my time. I need it. The world needs it.

Third, I’ve learned to embrace rest. When I’m tired, I nap. When it’s not a “work day,” I rest. In this also, I find I no longer have a choice. I need it after all the energy it takes to live in this hellscape, to be forced to be out in the world, and to be one of the many witnessing and supporting humanity as it decides its own fate – an eternity in hell, the end of the human race, or if they will finally agree to embrace the opportunity they’ve always been given – which is to be Love.

Hold the Line

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 3 Comments

Hold the Line

Love isn’t always on time.

These are the words that keep dancing around in my head. As we are continuing to be witness to the collapse of the world as we have known it, these are important words to remember.

Love does not come in our time.  Love comes in “God’s” time. We are not in charge of the unfolding of current events. Instead, we are witnesses and Love-bearers.

As witnesses our job is to watch, observe, and hold space for all the many faces of grief we will experience in the face of the death-throes of the patriarchy. As Love-bearers, we are meant to observe the unfolding from a place of non-judgment and detachment.

Love is universal. All are made by and for Love. Even (especially) those we perceive to be living a life contrary to Love. Jesus said “Love thy neighbor,” and “Pray for your enemies.”  Our neighbors are those we perceive to be like us. Our enemies – well, we know who they are. We are called to Love them – one and all.

I know, easier said than done. When we watch humans being cruel toward each other, treating one another with disrespect, acting as if some are deserving of liberties and others are not, it is hard.

When it is hard, we are called to pray for ourselves.  “Help me in my unbelief.” “Forgive them, they know not what they do.” “Into your hands I commend my spirit.”  “Teach me how to Love.”

All are wounded seeking to be free. Some know they are wounded and are seeking their own healing. Most aren’t even aware they’re wounded and are simply acting out of those wounds.

Love one another. Pray for each other’s healing.

And don’t interfere. It is said “you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.”  The same is true of humans. The difference between horses and humans is that humans can’t even be led. All we can do is our own work of being Love in the world and being that Love more fully. Sometimes, our presence awakens others to the Love within themselves, and to the invitation to knowing that Love. Sometimes our presence pisses people off. Neither is within our control. It’s not personal. It’s none of our business.

Each of our names are written on the palm of God’s hands. Our lives are written in Her book. If you are reading this, you are here simply for the purpose of Love. Be that Love and live from that Love and that is all you need to know.

Hold the line. The Love that you are is always on time.

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Moving Gently

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Often, when I reflect on what I want out of my life, the phrase moving gently surfaces. The idea of moving gently is so contrary to the way I have formerly moved and to the way in which we are often conditioned in this society that it has taken me time and much practice to realize this gentle movement in my life. Now, when I am able to sink into this gentle movement it feels natural, nourishing, and life-giving. In the times when life throws me back into situations where gentle is either not possible or difficult to attain, I feel violated and as if my life force is being sucked out of my being. This contrast encourages me to choose gentle movement wherever I am able and to free myself of those things that don’t allow for gentle.

Moving gently brings up images for me of the Bronte sisters and Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women – Victorian women (albeit privileged) who lived in a time when quiet reading, long walks in the moors, the needle arts, and writing were honored as time well-spent. Moving gently also brings up thoughts of medieval nuns like Hildegard of Bingen whose lives were defined by prayer, tending their gardens, providing counsel, caring for the sick, and completing the daily tasks of running a monastery.

These images provide but a glimpse of all the aforementioned lives required, but it is the energy-sense of these images, much more than the literal truth of them that provides food for thought and seeds for discernment.

Moving gently is about having a felt-sense of gentle and choosing this wherever possible in ones life. It is about measuring each experience and encounter and comparing it to what gentle feels like. Then it is about choosing what measures up and discarding the rest. As it turns out, choosing to move gently has application in all areas of my life. Here are some real-life examples:

Exercise: I used to be a gym rat, spending hours a week forcing my body into a size six form through vigorous exercise and weight lifting. Now, I relish in the gentle movements of yoga and Chi Qong. I’m no longer a size six (thank you menopause), but I feel good in my body.

The Drive to Succeed: I spent the vast majority of my life driving, striving, and forcing myself into the western world’s definition of success. I drove myself to be number one in my class. I sought positions that dangled the money carrot. I followed all the rules of SEO marketing and professional networking to try to be a success in my own business. Now, I do none of these. Instead, I listen deeply to my soul and when I feel called to work, I do.  When things come to me that feel life-giving, I receive them. I create what I want to create and leave the rest to God. Somehow it always works out – often by the skin of my teeth, but it works out.

Popularity and People-Pleasing: (puke emoji). I used to believe it was my job to make other people happy. Formerly, I worked hard at being friendly, outgoing, welcoming, and approachable. I wanted people to like me, and I would change and adapt in the hopes of getting other people’s approval. No more. Now, I am me. If people don’t like me, that’s more a reflection of them than it is of me. Instead of wanting to be popular, I now prefer to be unknown and unseen. In my mind, I like to think of my invisibility as the Diana Prince to the Wonder Woman hidden underneath. I no longer need to wave the banner of my magic to get people’s attention. If my gifts are meant for them, they will find me.

The Use of My Time: Formerly, my time was put toward efforts that I hoped would produce popularity, money, fame, even power. Now, my time is spent gently. If I have nothing “to do,” I spend my time in prayer and contemplation. I seek out opportunities for learning. I read and study. I read for enjoyment. I move my body gently. I feed my body simply. I enjoy quietude. I listen to music. I spend time with friends. I work with clients when the opportunities present themselves. I moderate student discussion in my online classes. I facilitate a weekly meditation circle. I tend to the responsibilities of my “chop wood and carry water” job. I pay my bills. I carry my love out into the world. I no longer engage in debate. I have freed myself from trying to convince anyone of anything. I have released resentment. I have let go of my need to fix, change, or save the world and the people within it.

I’m not saying it’s perfect. But identifying my soul’s need to move gently and going about the process of making this choice, I feel more peaceful and content than I have ever felt in my life. Oh yes, I sometimes stray from this and my battle armor is always close at hand, but at least I know what my soul prefers and that the freedom to choose gentle is almost always there.

For Whom is Prayer?

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

I’m in an ongoing quandary/inquiry with a fellow monastic friend related to the topic of prayer. Central to this inquiry are questions around:

  • Why do we pray?
  • Do our prayers matter?
  • What do our prayers actually influence (if anything)?
  • What good is prayer?
  • What even do we mean by prayer?

Prayer means different things to different people.  In the tradition in which I was raised, prayer consisted of formulaic rote prayers. Having grown up Catholic, prayer included those we recited at mass, the rosary (and the prayers that made up the rosary), saint novenas, prayers to saints, prayers for special intentions, etc. Prayer was words we sent up toward God or to whichever saint we were praying to for their intercession. (Saints were considered intermediaries between ourselves and God). Prayer also included all of our requests of God – to make us happy, healthy, to cure a disease, to help someone who needs God’s help, for God to intervene in a conflict or struggle, pleading to God for world peace, praying for the repose of a recently deceased’s soul, and finally, prayers for the release of “the poor souls in purgatory.”

In a nutshell, prayer was asking God for something or reciting rote prayers

in the hopes of gaining God’s favor, love, or forgiveness.

But here’s the thing….in the same breath that these prayers were taught and, in some cases, enforced, were the teachings about a God who was unconditionally loving, all-forgiving, and who knew what we needed before we could even ask. If this was the God we were taught to believe in, then what was the point of all those prayers? (And what would be the point of purgatory or even hell for that matter?????) Why would we need to offer prayers for God’s approval, to earn God’s love, to beg forgiveness, even to ask for healing or help for another if all this was already given, unbidden, by an all-loving God?

The answer, as it turns out, is simple. Prayer is not for God. Prayer is for the one who prays.

Rote, repetitious prayer, gives our mind something to do when we are anxious or afraid. Repeating a series of phrases or a single line provides a rhythm that helps to calm our mind and restore us to peace. Running our fingers over rosary beads has been proven to further facilitate a peaceful mind. Repeating memorized prayers while moving our fingers over rosary beads while reflecting on the life of Jesus and Mother Mary engages all parts of the brain with the benefit of  hastening the experience of an easeful mind. Intercessory prayers – asking for God’s intervention or assistance in a matter of importance or to request healing for ourselves or another – gives us the feeling of having some control over an otherwise uncontrollable situation. When we are feeling alone, afraid, ashamed, burdened, offering a prayer to God helps us to feel not so alone and might help us forgive ourselves when there is nothing to forgive from God’s point of view.

While God doesn’t need our prayers, we do.  This is why we pray. It’s not for God – to earn God’s love, to seek God’s forgiveness, it is for our own peace of mind, to release our own shame, and perhaps one day, to understand that no matter what anyone else might say, we are unconditionally and infinitely loved.

How Are We to Pray?

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Once upon a time there was a kind and gentle Middle Eastern man who came to know the breadth and depth of love and the peace that reigned there. He then sought to help his friends know love and peace in the same way. His method was simple:

“Whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret … When you are praying, do not heap up empty phrases, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him. (MT 6: 6-8)”

His philosophy was true:

“The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There it is!’ For, in fact, the kingdom of God is within and among you. (LK 17: 20-21)”

Prayer, as he understood it, was simply a path to inner peace through which one might remember their original nature as One within themselves, with each other, with God and with all of creation. Prayer, in this way, was sufficient unto itself and all that one needed to access the kingdom so many others had said had to be earned through the fulfillment of the law. This kingdom is already within us and part of our original nature. This man simply sought to help us remember.

This remembering, however, threatened the institutions that ruled over his lands – both the religious and political. Those who gained power through threats and intimidation and who favored a God whose love had to be earned and which could be taken away. These institutions had set themselves up as the intermediaries between human beings and God/Love, growing wealthy over the sacrifices they required of the people so they might earn their way into the kingdom of Love. The idea that the kingdom was already within people, meant no intermediary was necessary, no sacrifice expected and there was no infringement of the law that could separate the people from God’s Love. The institutions killed the man for teaching the way of Love.

The Love could not be destroyed, but where one institution was destroyed, another rose up in its place.  Soon the world was filled with outside perceived authorities who claimed to know the way of this gentle Middle Eastern man.  These institutions set forth doctrine and dogma, rooted not in Love, but in Fear. Then they created rituals, rules, and formulas for what they called prayer – all required to earn God’s Love and to find their way into God’s kingdom. Further, they set prayer as a bargaining tool, suggesting that if one prayed hard enough, and in the required way, using the proper formulas set forth by the institution, then God might be convinced to interceded on their behalf – bringing them riches, fame, wealth, power, and might even be convinced to interfere with the freewill or fate of another. If they prayed in the right way, God might heal them of sickness, raise them from the dead, or rescue them from the brink that they had chosen for themselves.

You see, it served these institutions to paint God in this light. Defying their own scripture which clearly proclaims:

 “I desire mercy, not sacrifice. (MT 9:13, Hos 6:6)”

these institutions created their own god, one who was made in man’s image: fickle, jealous, wrathful, vengeful, punitive, judgmental, one whose love had to be earned and whose love could be taken away. In their desire for power and wealth, they forgot what the kind and gentle man taught of the unconditional Love that is God. They forgot the words of the teacher who taught people how to remember the peace of that Love and that there was nothing they need do to earn that Love, that it could never be taken away and that there was never anything to ask of that Love for Love is the very nature of who we are, and when we become anxious and afraid, we need only turn within, close the door, and remember that Love in prayer.  

Living Monastic

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

As an unmarried adult woman of a certain age, living monastic looks a lot differently than how one might imagine. I’m not living in a convent. I haven’t taken vows of chastity, celibacy, or poverty. I don’t wear a habit. I sometimes wear sensible shoes, but only as a matter of comfort, not because it’s dictated by my order. Instead, I’m free to date (if I ever find anyone worthy). I dress as I choose. I earn less than the median income for where I live, but that’s a matter of choice not imposition. I live in a comfortable apartment by myself that I have turned into my personal sanctuary.

Monastic living for me is less about the externals (how things appear from the outside) and more about the ways in which I choose to spend my time and how I choose to be in the world.

Time, for me, is a precious commodity, and one I use wisely. I don’t waste my time on meaningless interactions or the expectations of our culture. Instead, my time is spent in the way in which I want to spend it which starts and ends with silence. As an introvert, I thrive in silence. Silence is my practice. It’s how I tune into myself and Source. Silence is my prayer, my meditation, and my life-blood. Silence is the place I begin each day and to what I return when I find myself disturbed by the world or by my own unhealed wounds. It is in silence that I find comfort, guidance, and healing and often how I share my own gifts like the times I feel called to send healing and love to our broken world. My entire day revolves around this silence and I guard it with my life.

Everything else revolves around that silence including all the doing that must be done in order to exist in this world – managing a household, taking care of chores, grocery shopping, cooking, working to earn a living, (this is the chop wood and carry water part of monastic living), and all the things I do for my own growth and enjoyment – reading, watching TV, writing, spending one on one time with friends, hanging out with my children, doing yoga, and being out in nature.

Also surrounding this silence are all the ways in which I show up in service to humanity – as a spiritual counselor and mentor to others, facilitating classes or groups, officiating at a funeral, and executing my office manager duties at a local ballet studio.  These are just the things that look official – you know, a vehicle for sharing my gifts and for making a living (chop wood carry water).

Beyond these obvious ways of doing is an even deeper showing up for me. This showing up is not about what I DO, but about how I BE. This being includes – being generous, being kind, being thoughtful, being welcoming, being friendly, being gentle, and sometimes being fierce. If I were to give a word to all this being, it would be LOVE – the kind of Love that isn’t all rainbows and unicorns but is sometimes like a shield or a sword – cutting through the bullshit, setting and maintaining boundaries, saying no, and being really really real with the challenges, difficulties, and evils in our world. Sometimes love is delivered in hard truths that some just don’t want to hear, at other times it’s delivered gently, but it is forever and always about love.

Living monastically in the modern world is a personal and counter-cultural choice that I know is not for everyone, but it is 100% for me. Arriving here has been almost sixty years in the making and I’m grateful for all of the experiences that have led me here.

Good Words

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

This is just such a good reading I wanted to share it with a little practice at the end if you feel so-called.

The Lord GOD has given me
            a well-trained tongue,
That I might know how to speak to the weary
            a word that will rouse them.
Morning after morning
            he opens my ear that I may hear;
And I have not rebelled,
            have not turned back.
I gave my back to those who beat me,
            my cheeks to those who plucked my beard;
My face I did not shield
            from buffets and spitting.

The Lord GOD is my help,
            therefore I am not disgraced;
I have set my face like flint,
            knowing that I shall not be put to shame.
He is near who upholds my right;
            if anyone wishes to oppose me,
            let us appear together.
Who disputes my right?
            Let him confront me.
See, the Lord GOD is my help;
            who will prove me wrong?

Isaiah 50: 4-9a

Meditation Practice:

If you feel so-called, apply Lectio-Divina to the scripture passage above and share your experience in the comment section.

Lectio Divina

Lectio Divina is Latin for “divine reading,” “spiritual reading,” or “holy reading” and represents a method of prayer and scriptural reading intended to promote communion with God and to provide special spiritual insights.  Traditionally, Lectio-Divina is practiced with sacred scripture, but can be applied to any inspirational or meaningful written text.  Lectio Divina is accomplished in four steps, with the fourth step – contemplation – continuing beyond our practice time and flowing out into our day.

Lectio – Choose a scripture passage or inspirational written text.  Read the passage gently and slowly several times, savoring each portion of the reading.  As you are reading, look for a word or phrase that seems to jump out at you.  Receive this word or phrase as God’s nourishment for you.

Meditatio – Reflect on the text of the passage and think about how it applies to one’s own life. Specifically, ruminate, ponder, meditate on the word or phrase that jumped out at you.  Ask the question, “How is God speaking to me personally through this passage?”

Oratio – Respond to the passage by opening your heart to God. Allow yourself to have a conversation with God.  Offer a silent or spoken prayer in response to God, or write your thoughts in a notebook or journal.

Contemplatio – Listening to God. This is a freeing of yourself from your own thoughts, both mundane and holy, and hearing God speak to you. Opening the mind, heart, and soul to the influence of God. Contemplatio is often done in silence or carried with you as you go about your day.  Observe how your meditation period continues to influence your thoughts, behaviors, attitudes and feelings.

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