writing

Ugh!

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 2 Comments

For the thirty-or-so of you who continue to read my articles, thank you for your patience these past few weeks. In short – this care-giver is all cared out! I know in this I’m not alone.

The past several weeks have been heavy with intensity, anxiety, and dare I say, INSANITY. When I think things just can’t get worse in our world another shoe drops.  Just when I pray, “surely this is the tipping point that will bring the whole house of cards down upon itself,” it is not. It seems instead of wholesale collapse, the empire is dying one mortar chip at a time.

And we are all exhausted from the waiting and weighting. It is heavy work to be a visionary, prophet, lightworker, healer, starborne, starseed, and carer when the only paradigm we have ever known is coming to it’s self-created violent ending. Moreso even than the system itself, we have been bearing, upholding, and supporting those who are finding themselves anxious, frantic, nervous, and worried in the face of a collapse about which they may not even be aware. We have been a source of support for others while desperately trying to be support for ourselves.

For the past several weeks, I have found myself in complete survival mode. Between a world in collapse and some new (not really) health issues that have surfaced, it’s all I can do to get out of bed in the morning – not because I’m depressed – because I am bone weary and soul tired. On my good days, I’m honored when people seek me out for support. On my bad days, I’m sick to death of other people’s shit. (Not everyone’s shit….just those unwilling to tend to their own work.)

Does this make me a bad person? No, it just means I’m tired and as usual, excruciatingly human.

Humans exhaust me. When I’m tired, unwell, impatient, frustrated, and fumbling, I exhaust myself. Again, I know I’m not alone in this. I likely exhaust others. (ha ha).  But seriously, so many who reach out to me speak of their own disgust with themselves.

When the world is turning itself inside out, we can no longer survive as the person we once thought of ourselves as being. As the masks behind which the human-made world are falling away and the evil behind it all is being revealed, our masks also must fall. The masks I have worn are those of perfectionist, good-girl, straight A student, achiever, hard worker, honest, strong, brave, courageous, fiercely independent, and generously loving. Behind these masks, I am these things, but not always. I too am vulnerable, anxious, terrified, jealous, petty, unforgiving, harsh, and the deceit I indulge is that of people pleaser.  “I’m fine,” is a bold-faced lie and while I have love of all humanity, I sometimes wish a violent death upon those I call my enemies – or at the very least – a heaping portion of karmic retribution.

As the world has been collapsing and masks have been torn away, so too have we been forced to admit the full truth of who we are. We can no longer hide behind the expectations of a capitalistic patriarchal society.  Neither can we live under the burden of the driving, striving, and blind ambition favored by our world.

We must live our truth – or die. “Just hanging on” is no longer enough. Instead, we are invited to LET IT ALL GO. Quit trying to fit in. Quit lying to ourselves. Quit trying to be strong. Quit trying to help or care for those unwilling to help themselves. Quit forcing ourselves to take action where no action is needed and where our gifts have been denied. Quit denying the reality of aging and the physical consequences of illness.  Instead, we’re invited to embrace them. (Hollywood, Instagram, etc. beauty standards are simply another part of a world that is dying. Have you seen what is happening to Hollywood actresses? So many of them now look like corpses.  Gross!) Quit pretending we are well when we are not. Quit “faking it to make it.”

And more than anything else:  DARE to love yourself enough to choose what is life-giving for you, even/especially when what is best is to sleep.

And finally, DO NOT forget that if you are one who sees and believes in the hope of a new world, this new world is being born through you. As such, your physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual bodies are hard at work growing and getting ready to birth that new world. Be gentle and loving toward yourself as you would be with a brand new babe. In this birthing, we are fragile and vulnerable. Treat yourself as such!

With love,

Lauri

Letters from Hell #1

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 2 Comments

Beloved Friends,

I saw a meme yesterday that read:

What if in 2020 we all died and this is hell?

These are the first words that have made any sense of the world in which we are currently living, because beyond all that we see on the surface of things, it sure feels like hell.

For me, my heart is broken over all of it – but mostly over the violent division that seems to currently define our nation, if not the world. It seems everywhere I look the finger of blame is being pointed in the opposite direction from where it should be pointed – away instead of toward, because…..

This hell in which we are living, is one of our own making.

When humanity makes gods of men, looking outside of ourselves for guidance, authority, leadership and direction, this is what we get. A bunch of unqualified, overly loud individuals getting rich off our willingness to give them our power.

In this current version of hell, censorship is king. If the “Emperor” doesn’t like what you say about him, then through money and power, you are silenced. Or, if the Emperor is in need of a martyr, one will be created.

All of this to feed the beast of division. Those in power believing that in dividing the nation, they will gain more power. Strangely, it seems their tactics are working as the powerful few gain increasing wealth as the world falls around their feet. What will be left when they are done? A world of ash where beauty once stood? No wonder they’re looking for a way to settle on Mars.

Many of us have known this was coming, but nothing could have prepared us for how truly awful it really is. The long, slow, excruciatingly painful death of the world built on fear, power, and control. Daily, I plead with the universe, DIE ALREADY!

I’m exhausted for the end of things, hoping that when this is all over (will it ever be over?) humanity will find a way to live in peace. But for the love of God, how long is this going to take?

Physically, emotionally, spiritually, mentally, I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.  I’m not sure how much more any of us can take. We seem to be suffering from a collective sort of PTSD and recent events have only made it worse (thank you Justine Joslyn for this reminder!). 

I know my PTSD is triggered. I feel vulnerable, raw, and highly emotional. My head hurts. I feel the physical effects of cortisol raging through my body producing flu-like symptoms. My heart hurts. I am finding it hard to breathe. I don’t want to go anywhere or do anything. Yesterday, it was all I could do to sit on my couch and pray.

And when I’m at work, I feel broken and flawed. I feel like I’m doing everything wrong and that everything I’m doing is a mistake. I feel unqualified for a job for which I am, in truth, overqualified. I feel ashamed in my imperfection.

This is not me. At least, this isn’t normal me. This is me under panic and in a heightened state of activation. I am finding it hard to focus. I am doomscrolling for something – anything to make me feel safe.  I know better than this – but I can’t help myself.

I feel desperate – desperate for a moment to breathe, a moment to feel safe, a moment of peace in which the world isn’t suddenly exploding with some new tragic or devastating news. I hate it here.

But just when I’m ready to completely give up on humanity, wishing and hoping for this all to be over, I am reminded by the wisdom of youth, in this case my daughter. Yesterday I texted her, “The world just needs to end already.” This was her heart-wrenching, wise response:

“I want the world to get better. There’s still stuff I wanna do.”

UGH!  Knife to the heart! A knife to my heart that broke me wide open. In her wise words, my daughter spoke what we all want:

We want the world to be better. We want it to be better for ourselves, but even more so, for our children and our children’s children. For these, we must hang on to hope – cling to it even. With these words, I will leave you with this:

With the deepest love,

Lauri

Wise Council of Elders

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

In a few days I will be turning 60.  Past thirty, I haven’t really cared about age. I still don’t except that I kinda feel like I’m done. Not “done-done,” just without any sort of compass, map, itinerary or plan. What does one do and where does one go when you’ve already done all you set out to do – and then some?

  • I completed a college degree and went back to school for several more.
  • I’ve had many jobs.
  • I got married and divorced.
  • I bore and raised two amazing children who are pretty wonderful adults.
  • I’ve written and published eleven books.
  • I’ve created and taught the curriculum of over thirty separate classes.
  • I’ve guided many through my Magdalene training program.
  • I’ve counselled another many.
  • I’ve created videos and podcasts.
  • I’ve rebuilt my website too many times to count.
  • I’ve made many friends (and left a few behind).

With a few exceptions, I planned for very little of this!  Things came my way with an invitation to pursue them, and I did – with a passion and vigor.

Now, the slate is clean. My books and courses will always be there and available for those who feel so-called, and I don’t feel the call to create any more. I’m always available for counsel. My children will always be a part of my life, as will a handful of friends. Other than that, I have no specific plans, and nothing that is beckoning pursuit.

Instead, all I have before me is the present moment and whatever meets me there. When inspiration to write comes, I follow. I continue to work at my “chop wood carry water” job. And my practice continues to be the central focus of each day – actually each moment of every day, included in that practice are the only words that seem to speak to me now – those of the Tao Te Ching.

Other than that – nadda. Unless we count the dream that occurred the other night:

In the dream, I was shown a seemingly empty room.  The room was rectangular in shape with shining maple-colored floors. As I was being shown the room I heard the words, “Wise Council of Elders,” and then felt a tap on my knee that awakened me to see the truth of the room.  It was not empty but filled with ageless women and men of all races. I immediately came to see that I was one among them. I had always been one among them, only now I was awakened to this truth.

Then I woke up.  I know better than to ponder the meaning of the dream, so instead, I am simply sitting with the invitation and the awareness. What does it mean to be one among the Wise Council of Elders?  I guess time will tell.

My dear spiritual brother Bill Tonnis sent me his most recent song that reflects the sentiments in this blog:

Please enjoy Bill’s inspiring music!

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.

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