Ashes & Glitter
Welcome to an Inbox Inhale where I'll invite you to feel exactly how you are feeling.
Hi Friends,
This time around, I've tried something new and recorded myself reading this to you. Click to listen for those of you who audio fits better into your day:)
A few weeks ago on Instagram, I shared how the mix of ashes and glitter on Ash Wednesday unlocked something inside of me. What, I'm not exactly sure...but I think it has something to do with - "you can't heal what you won't feel."
I’ve been apprenticing as a Spiritual Director this past year, and by accident, scheduled my supervision for Ash Wednesday. As I was driving down to Colorado Springs, I remembered how our supervisor mentioned she'd be offering a mix of ash and glitter this year and realizing it was actually the day of, I texted to ask if she’d bring me some.
I haven’t attended an Ash Wednesday service in years, but something about this strange combination sparked my interest. She was already at the office, but turned around and went home to get me some - an act of love on the snowy, icy roads.
As we both settled into her office, I saw the ashes and glitter sitting between us on the table, and she asked, “Would you like your blessing at the beginning or the end of our time?”
I paused to consider. I felt the chair envelope me with softness and my body seemed to know that I needed to bless all that I was holding within me first…because it felt like A LOT.
So I smiled and said, “First.”
And she smiled back with that knowing look - and began to read the Scriptures from the lectionary - a reminder that from ashes we come and to ashes we will return…
Then she said, “and now from St. Jan” and I startled a bit with surprise. I love the saints, and loved even more that she’d named one of my favorite current writers as one of them. Saints were normal people back then, and they are now - and I’ve fallen in love with words of Jan Richardson, particularly from this last Advent season. As she began reading, these words made tears begin to fall…..
“So let us be marked
not for sorrow.
And let us be marked
not for shame.
Let us be marked
not for false humility
or for thinking
we are less
than we are
but for claiming
what God can do
within the dust,
within the dirt,
within the stuff
of which the world
is made
and the stars that blaze
in our bones
and the galaxies that spiral
inside the smudge
we bear.”
-“Blessing the Dust” appears in Circle of Grace: A Book of Blessings for the Seasons.
The same God who swirled galaxies of stars in the sky, also made every living thing - including us - from the dust of the earth.
This Divine Love is as wide as eternity and as physical as the DNA of our bones.
We are a combination of both dust and stardust. Temporal and eternal. And we feel both, all the time. For the truth I’m discovering is both the fragile state of being human and the Divine Presence of Love lands in our bodies.
When someone we love get’s the diagnosis, we feel the sharp pang of our heart breaking inside us. We might step outside for air, and with our next breath feel mystified by the sight of the moon - floating above us, like a beautiful love note glowing in dark, just for us to see.
All of these feelings arise from somewhere deep within our bodies. But I’ll tell you - certain feelings take more of a toll on me than others. Like worry swirling and looping in my mind, or sorrow tightening like a knot in my chest. Fear that drops like a rock in my stomach, or rage pulsing hot in my veins. These feelings leave me feeling vulnerable. Fragile. And so I can understand why I’ve tried bypassing these fragile kind for so long…pushing them aside to focus instead on what sparkles.
Maybe I thought my bent towards positivity would make the "bad" feelings go away, or even more, that my faith was supposed to save me from the bad, so I must be weak and needed to try praying harder. But I think I was holding an image of Jesus as a superhero. Divinely strong - here to swoop in as an answer to prayer and fix all pain and hardship. No time for feelings but rather, on a mission to prove he was the son of God and overcome the world.
I’m not saying he wasn’t or that the power of Divine Love can’t heal and restore the world - but what about when things aren’t fixed the way we want. When the ending is not what we would ever have chosen and we feel the fragility of our mortality?
I think I’ve been overly focused on Jesus’ divine power. And as I sat with a smear of ash and dust on my forehead, feeling fragile, with tears trickling down my cheeks, something clicked.
I was feeling fragile, and I was feeling loved in the same moment. Tender from all I had shared about this past season, I was met with kind eyes that seemed to listen without judgment. Wanting to meet me right where I was at.
It was like the cushy chair I was sitting in was the paradox I’d tried to avoid for so long. I wanted to name things as good or bad. Right or wrong. That my faith in Jesus meant he would save me from pain and hardship, and if things weren't good - I just needed more faith.
But what if two things are true at once?
Photo by Giorgio Parravicini on Unsplash
Sitting there on Ash Wednesday, the day that marked Jesus' journey into the dry-dusty desert - where he would have to struggle with the voice of evil, and move through seemingly impossible challenges, I'd always inserted my super-hero Jesus into the story.
But I wonder what he felt?
How did Jesus feel as he combatted the voice of evil? As he faced challenge after challenge? I wonder if worry, anxiety, and desperation begin to rise within him. If he sensed how fragile it was to be human. Yet I also see him feel the pull of His Father's love in the midst of all of it. We know that God did not have him enter this space of ash and possible death - without first booming from the heavens - “You are my beloved son."
To me, it seems very clear that Jesus remembered - deep in his bones, that he was divinely loved as he experienced the challenges of the wilderness.
This is what's clicked for me. Jesus was fully divine, and He incarnated in a body, which means our life in him is also a mix.
A mix of the temporal and eternal. Of feeling all that it means to be human and Divinely loved. Both.
Where I'd been camped out with my super-hero Jesus, waiting and hoping He'd rescue me from needing to feel fragile, what opened up was that I could let myself feel human - as tender and vulnerable as it gets, and feel the Presence Divine of Love with me, at the same time.
Holding this paradox has allowed me to see that my feelings aren't bad or good - but simply part of being human, and the pull and presence of Love is always with me.
Instead of needing to bypass the "bad emotions" like grief and anger because they might make life worse, or signal that I have weak faith... I’ve slowly come to see differently. Actually, to know differently.
It's as if emotions are the same thing as the lights that show up on the dashboard of your car.
Photo by CHUTTERSNAP on Unsplash
The lights themselves aren’t good or bad. In fact they are neutral - simply lighting up to give us information.
But it’s what we do when we notice the lights that impacts the course of our journey.
Do we drive towards a rest stop and find the help and support we need, because the lights are flashing? Or do we keep driving and push through…moving ourselves towards danger…or even worse, destruction. Like a crash.
While the lights of emotion have flashed within me, I've found that just like when driving my car, I also have a choice. I can choose to allow the lights to move me towards help...like stillness, or walking outside where the quiet voice whispers from within, "you are my beloved." Or turn towards the support of someone who can listen with love, and give me a hug.
This summer, I remember feeling really scared as I waited in a pre-op room, before going back to have surgery on my thyroid. (All is well now:)) And I was angry that my kids and husband had to wait while I went underwent surgery. The anxiety of all that could happen was swirling inside of me and I felt my how fragile my life really was in that moment. And actually, every moment. And at the same time, I had this strangely calm sense that I wasn't alone. It was this Presence that I was loved in my fear and my anxiety.
Coming to understand my feelings as neutral - has helped me to move out from under the shame or fear of certain feelings, and bring my attention to what I'll choose to do with them.
The invitation has become.... what will I do with what I feel?
When I notice a light signaling that "I'm angry....I'm disappointed...I'm afraid," I can choose to name them emotion and pick what I'll do next. Will I push through and ignore the flashing lights, sending myself towards danger or destruction? Or will I choose to allow the lights to move me towards what I need? Towards life?
This smile is after I shared the spectrum of my feelings in the loving presence of someone I trust. I see my red-splotchy-messy face and a glimmer in my eyes. This isn't the best shot of me by any means, but I share because being seen, and known seems to offer light and air to the places within us that have gathered cobwebs. Where we've walled off or shoved away because we are ashamed, afraid or self-condemning.
I’ve come to learn - that to live is to feel and I can’t pick to feel only some things. If I repress the sorrow, I also stunt the joy. I’m a work in progress, but I’ve felt lighter. I'm a mix of ash and sparkle, and rather than repress, I can choose to notice, and respond to all that's flashing within me, at any given moment. And it's okay that that there is a landscape of contradictions and dissonance within and around us. I still can't tell you why there is unexplainable suffering, but I can see how dissonance plays a part in making music. I've begun to let go of my super-hero Jesus (though I'm fond of him), and pick up this new understanding of Jesus as fully human and fully divine...a living, and breathing contradiction. It's not one or the other - just like it's not one single sound, but a symphony of chords rising and swirling that makes life beautiful.
Maybe you'd like some embodied practices to help feel what you're feeling?
1. Practice crying: If this immediately made you cringe…stay with me. For years, I tried to avoid crying unless I was watching a sad movie! But over the past year I’ve been seeing a somatic coach who wisely explained that healing happens when we allow ourselves to oscillate between joy and grief. Otherwise we can get stuck and become stagnant. I’ve spent many years feeling a little stuck. Like a bee - only gravitating towards the sweet experiences of life, but I've felt how much I have avoided in the process. I needed help unlocking that it's okay to cry, and it was terribly uncomfortable at first - but the more I allowed it..in the shower or in my car... the easier it got.
TRY: LJ and I recently binged this show Shrinking on Apple TV, and we've loved the honest humanity and tender, gritty hope in it. In one of the episodes, Harrison Ford who plays an endearing, grumpy therapist offers advice to a grieving family friend whose lost her mom. He tells her to play a really sad song and let herself cry for 15 minutes, and then stop and move on with her day. (I’ve been trying the length of one song…baby steps here!)
You might have a sad song that immediately comes to mind or you might need some help? In yoga a few weeks ago, we talked about how crying is like watering your soul, and I curated some songs for our playlist here.
Maybe you’ll find a good crying song OR I’d love to make this a collective playlist where we can practice crying. If you have a favorite sad song - please sent it to me and I’ll add it. I welcome your experiences as well, and would be honored to hear how this goes. Simply hit reply.
*If you’d like to yoga with me, I’m offering in-person classes here.
2. Therapy and/or Spiritual Direction
There's a good chance you are familiar with both, in which case skip! But if you're curious - therapy has helped me name my feelings, and begin to recognize and rewrite the internal stories that keep getting me stuck. Spiritual Direction is an ancient practice that helps listen for the movement of the Divine in every part of your life (including my feelings and sensations!) If you'd like to learn about spiritual direction, or find a director you can click here.
3. Reading poetry aloud is a simple way to feel your feelings. If you enjoyed the St. Jan’s words, here’s more of her work.
4. An embodied welcoming prayer for you to try.
I created this offering for the Retreat in Daily Life with Anam Cara Ministries earlier this week and wanted to welcome you to feel your sensations with me.
Thank you for joining me in this little corner of Inbox Inhales.
I don't think I say enough how grateful I am for your attention. I know you are pulled in a million directions every day, so the fact that you've landed here in this tender space, where I share my questions, stories and discoveries is an honor to me. I hope I can offer you some spaciousness to remember your body, feel what you're feeling, and know that you are loved.
Though our connection is through a screen, I feel your presence- and this is one of those eternal-glittery-graces for which I’m deeply grateful. I'd love to hear from you, like really. So always feel welcome to hit reply and let me know what resonates? Any questions you've been asking? Or ways you've found to feel your feels.
I’ll leave you with a little blessing I've written to close our time…
This lent, may you find some moments to feel.
To allow what rises to rise,
and open your arms to the fragility and the beauty of being human.
And remember that just as your feelings land in your body…so does your belovedness.
Yes, you are divinely loved,
wildly outside of time and deep in your bones.
And may the strange comfort of paradox hold you today.
Right where you sit,
honoring all of your ash, and all of your sparkle.
With love and gratitude,
Devany