Category: General Learning

Good one here from author Brianna Wiest. Thx to my friend Hailey for sharing it.

So much to relate to in this. Creating. Being alive. I quite like the invitation to be alive with “anything.” I written quite a few poems that come from a desire to follow what is alive in the inner — fears, joys, angers, discoveries.

Here’s to it, to the many of us leaning in. In the big, giant ways and the small, tiny ways. Alive.

It’s rather good to learn with friends. It’s one of the most basic narratives of my life. Just learn. Just follow the joy of learning. Inner. Outer. With people. Solo. Connect things. Try things. Stop calling them things.

I just came from a call (Coffee over Zoom = Zoffee). With a wise man that I’ve know over 10-15 years. But in the frequency of a call once every 18 months or so — I think we’ve only been together twice in same physical space. There is a resonance between us. A similar desire for learning. For feeling. For listening.

Today my friend offered me this reflection and encouragement (diagram above). I scribbled while he talked, because that’s what I do.

“Learn to welcome the space between the letters. And between the words. And between the sentences. Learn to look for what isn’t and can’t be in the words, in the articulation.”

Dandy.

My friend also added, “I don’t try so much to facilitate these days. But I do try to catalyze.”

Yup, this feels wise. And so much of what I’m learning to lean to. And to surrender to. In life. In family. In hosting work. As I wrote above, “holding space to help people be ready (more ready) for that catalyzing.”

It’s rather good to learn the spaces between, to become trusting and fluent with the spaces between. It’s rather good to learn with friends.

First, thx Molly Baskette for writing this piece as a Daily Devotional for the United Church of Christ. Molly calls it Chris in the Chaos. It’s all appealing to me. But Molly’s story of Xmas tree messery stood out. “It’s all right. It’s just a mess.”

Second, there’s some timely medicine for me in the message. And for a mess of a yesterday conversation that snuck up and on me. I’ve had a hard time sorting it. The mess isn’t actually the conversation. It’s the stuff that has been collecting dust in the cupboards for years — there’s the mess. I needed the lightness for my circumstance, told through a child. “It’s all right. It’s just a mess.”

Third, I’m so delighted by my closer-in colleagues. Today, one reached to me, affirming my invitation to participate in a Wisdom Council. It was such clarity and commitment. Didn’t surprise me. Just delighted me, again. I wrote email to her, thanking her.

On we go.
Moving hearts.
Saying yes.
Being beloved and receiving beloved.

These little phrases shape a simple story. As I sip morning coffee. As I journal. Welcoming inspiration to guide the day, the meetings, the messes. And of course the delights found in the messes.

That’s me walking with my Pal Sarah. It was this summer on Whidbey, back at Aldermarsh. Thx Roq for catching the picture. I texted this photo to Sarah recently, and commented on how good friendships are so often walking each other home. She smiled back through text and affirmed.

So it is.

A couple weeks ago at NGLI (United Church of Christ’s Next Generation Leadership Initiative), the 4th year cohort lead closing worship. This is the group that I and Travis Winkler were able to teach and guide in 2024’s gathering. Their theme for Worship was “Belonging” and included this text from M Jade Kaiser.

I love it for all that it points to. I love it for what it affirms in the great walk of home.

To become is a life long process.
Nothing is constant,
not even the self.
We evolve in the midst of narratives meant only for some
and ways of being made narrow by fear and power.
We must, then, have the courage to listen to the truth of our own lives,
to the wisdom that comes from within –
responding without resistance or need to control,
but with welcome and curiosity.
This is what ensures our becoming is an unfolding
of our truest self.

This lifelong labor cannot be carried out alone. It requires help
from friends, and lovers, family, and creaturely companions
who bear witness to what makes us come alive.
And say to us, “Listen. Look. Feel. Pay attention to that.”

Telling the stories.
Sharing in the memories.
Giving thanks for the relationships, understandings, and experiences past
that have shaped us to this day.

Celebrating new beginnings that excite.
Holding risks together.
Leaning into unknowns with the promises of support and companionship.

Listening to the future calling uniquely to each of us in the midst of all of life’s noise.
Helping one another find our place in the shared labor of collective life.
Supporting each other in what it is the world’s ache is asking from us.

To say, for the first time,
“This is who I am.
This is the truth of my body.
This is what I know about myself.
This is my name and this is where my path is leading me.”
And to have it heard. Have it received. Have it affirmed.
And then,
to say it again,
and again,
as we change
and as the world changes,
and to have each proclamation greeted with an open-armed embrace:

There is no me without you.
We shape one another.
The Sacred that birthed us
weaves our lives together
so that we can only find ourselves through shared becoming.
For my journey and all its winding ways.
For yours.
For all the saints who labored for what is,
all the kin whose lives made ours possible.
For all those yet to come for whom
living our truths today will mean breaking possibilities open for them tomorrow:
We pause. We give thanks. We acknowledge.