Spread the Love [blog tour]

Beth Morey is one of my favorite people on earth. about a year ago, i messaged her and told her we needed to be BMFF (best mama friends forever, obviously) after reading an article she wrote as part of Wild Goslings. She is amazing and creative, both as a painter and a writer - she inspires me every day. I have one of her paintings hanging in my studio, entitled Brave One. (i wrestled it away from Rachel [who is also posting as part of this blog tour today, tagged by Beth as well] because my "word" last year was "brave", and the blog i was writing on at the time was entitled thebraveone). Beth suckered me into... er, invited me to be part of this blog tour, so here goes...

1. What are you currently working on?

I am knee-deep in a project that has my heart. It is a series of found poetry art pieces based on my interactions with the Bible. I have made my way through genesis 1-3, and am considering publishing options, while I continue the process.

(I am also creating course content for my workshop for the MADE ecourse, as well as some content for other collectives and ecourses, including ones within the Story Sessions community. And I'm always art journaling.)

2. How does your work differ from others of its genre?

I'm not aware of anyone else working in found poetry as interaction with the Bible - it is a really deep art & faith intersection for me. It is prayer. My process currently includes blackout poetry in an actual Bible, as well as the finished art pieces, so that’s…unique (sacrilegious/scary/freeing/awesome).

3. Why do you write/create what you do?

There is a long backstory relating to how this process came to be, as well as the “why”. Suffice it to say there came a point in my life where I was longing for God, for truth spoken deep to my soul-depths… but the Bible was a threatening place, rather than a comforting one.

This creative approach to the Bible via found poetry and lectio divina has freed me up to engage with the text and themes on the pages, and in my heart and life, without feeling “triggered” back to the days of caged-soul-atrophy when those same words were misused against my heart.

I hope it can free others as well.

4. How does your writing/creating process work?

I begin my day and my creative time with some rituals that seem to open my eyes, remind me to be present and engaged. This includes a hot drink in the morning, with a one-word prompt drawn to set an intention for the day. I have a blessing I read as I enter my creative space as well. These all serve to center me, remind me why i create. If I am art journaling or painting, these moments tend to propel me straight into rhythm with the muse.

If it's more of a writing day, i usually spend some time pouring out the contents of my soul onto 750words.com as compost for what words actually need to spring to life on my page.

As far as my Bible Found Poetry project:

>>I take a few verses at a time, some small complete section, such as Day One of Creation. I read it through a couple of times, and do a simple, short lectio divina with the passage. I listen, and look for what is shimmering, beckoning for my attention; both in one-word secret messages, and in the themes I feel come up.

>>I do a blackout poem directly in the text.

>>Then, I free-write about the themes emerging, and use some of the words from my stream of consciousness to “find” another poem within.

>>Last – and here is the fun part – I tear two random pages out of two random, coverless books from my shelf, and begin to pore over them, letting my eyes choose the words that resonate with the themes that have emerged in my writing. Then it is a flurry of cutting and arranging, before I’ll paint a piece of watercolor paper as a space to house my found poem. Sometimes I will draw some related imagery on the finished and assembled piece as well.

I come away from each time with an experience of myself and the holy. It has been a beautiful process for me, and I hope it will be art that can give others space to engage with scripture in ways that feel life-giving to them.

So that's me! I'd like to invite you to a few of my friends' places next week - June 9th - to continue the blog tour.

First, Alissa Browning-Couch. She is so lovely, and has battled through so much spiritually; and now she is leading others through some of the darkness she herself has faced, both on her wonderful blog, and in the Doubters Anonymous group she created this spring.

Second, Jamie Wright Bagley. She is one of my fellow coaches over at The Story Unfolding, and she just released a poetry Book of Hours, In Shadow and Sun last week! (and yours truly had the honor of writing her foreword!) she is currently giving away this ebook for a limited time. it's beautiful y'all.

And third,  Nicole Romero (also a Story Coach). This girl is doing ah-mazing work with Beauty and the Body. I took her Love and Making It ecourse in february, and i cannot recommend it highly enough. She is freeing captives, this one.

fourteen links later...

I'll see you at Nicole, Jamie, and Alissa's places next week!

Thrashing: Day 14: Flirt with mystery

i am always amazed at the synchronicity.

my process involves choosing one of a dozen coverless books off my shelf and ripping a random page out of the middle somewhere, and then repeating with a second random book.

and somehow it always speaks.

today i drew the phrase "flirt with mystery" from my little broken china bowl. and as i was processing genesis and the creation of humans, these were the words from the pages.

it's as if he's affirming "yes! flirt with mystery! you will find Me there, the Wild One wrapped in mystery..." 

Thrashing: Day 4: Burn

How to Scream: a Memoir this is what i would call my book, if i ever wrote one.

i have never screamed. well, not since infancy.

i have just always known it was not allowed, and never even tried. never shrieked, playing with the other kids at the park or in the pool. never screamed across a crowded room to get someone's attention. never cried out in fear, or from being startled. and i have never screamed that angry guttural one i feel burning down in my gut these days.

i never even used to feel angry. it wasn't allowed. i spent a lifetime avoiding anger - others', my own. only recently have i given myself permission to feel what comes, and to express it. because it matters. my voice matters. i matter.

i think the time is coming (and soon) that i'm going to have to let that scream out into the atmosphere.

***

six years ago, on the day i met my spiritual director, she took me and a few others out onto a mountainside to help me scream. they all let out these huge vibrant yells... and as the wind carried five out of six voices away, my mouth was open and nothing would come. 

just like in a nightmare when you can't cry for help, can't run, can't scream.

***

learning to scream is, for me, a metaphor for learning to speak, learning to let my voice be heard, even when it doesn't want to say pretty things. 

autumn is a season for shedding, letting go, exhaling what needs to be let out.

i have had a recurring image come to me the past few weeks, of a forest post-wildfire, and how that is a picture of what it is sometimes like at the end of a shedding season. things look a little bleak. but there is hope, even in that image, as i learned that serotinous pinecones could never release their seeds to replenish the forest, were it not for the high temperatures melting the resin holding them tightly.

the autumn fire has come, and i have felt the loss, and i am going willingly. because what i am losing is the false self that lives to the expectations of others. because there is indeed beauty amongst the ashes, and life will show itself new, come spring. 

Related articles

• The Pig Herder (wheretheywalked.wordpress.com)

Thrashing: day 1: Write your own Bible

Mandy Steward's book Thrashing About with God: Finding Faith on the Other Side of Everything was released today, and i am two chapters in. i've already decided i don't need to write a memoir anymore, since she already has (don't worry,  writer friends, i'm just kidding - i know MY story is important. it's just the similarities are...eerie).

and God has already spoken to tender places in my heart.

this book, it is connected to my story in many ways, and is beyond where i have allowed myself freedom to go, in so many ways. i had both fear and excitement before beginning its pages. i had to write myself a "permission slip" before i read the first lines, to remind myself of freedom to thrash, unafraid of my final destination.

Mandy is one of the co-creators of The Art Journaler community, where i have spent much time this past year. Each month, they send out a download for us to have prompts to work from in our art journal, or to set intention for our days. This month, October, since her book came out today, the prompts revolve around themes within her book. some of them look very dangerous at first glance (and may very well be). Last night, i cut apart the typed phrases, without paying much attention to their words. i read some, and a few made me think: "i hope i don't draw that one until later in the month, when i've read enough of the book to have context for it." This was one of those.

"write your own bible", it said. Whaa...?

but as i held it at arm's length (literally. i'm farsighted.), i focused on what was directly behind this little subversive piece of paper in my hand. and realized that i have been doing exactly that. well, not exactly that. i began a new project a few days ago, and it involves:

*marking out huge chunks of the bible (yes, like IN an actual bible - gasp! it's a One-Year Bible that we have been meaning to "get rid of" and i rescued it.) to create "blackout poetry".

*meditating on one word that "shimmers" from a bible passage, contemplating ripe meanings within its phrases.

*free writing about themes that emerge, then creating a pantoum poem from favorite lines:

in deep waters//empty, waiting, like a dark womb//having only ever known: alone//until the light

empty, waiting, like a dark womb//the spirit moves//until the light//birth soon to be witnessed

the spirit moves//having only ever known: alone//birth soon to be witnessed//in deep waters.

*and finally a "found poem", cut and pieced from random book pages. 

i have been afraid of the bible. for years.

it has been a full three years since i stepped out of the darkest , most despairing time of my life (so far) into new light. and it has been beauty and freedom and spirit-whispers and desire.

but the bible? it still had all the same language it did in all my growing-up years, and when i read it, it was heavy with baggage of decades of knowing all the right answers. all those "right" answers that no longer had the same meaning for me, walking in this new life. and so, i haven't spent much time in it. i have had moments of feeling guilty, like i "should" be able to read scripture without feeling so triggered back to the shame of before. but walking in freedom requires of me not to obligate myself when i am in a season of needing something different. and he has been nothing but tender, grace-full, aching with me for my heart's freedom. 

so there was this moment, a couple weeks ago, where a friend was teaching a workshop, and used a bible passage glued down as the base layer for what she was creating. and as i followed along, glancing here and there, making connections within the passage, i discovered that i wasn't afraid (well, maybe a little). i felt free coming to the bible for the first time in ages. granted, i chose the passage that has felt most "safe" to me - galatians 5 - i can get on board with being free, and refusing to put old chains back on, and being led by the spirit.

but as i worked through it, i found myself alive (this was very unexpected), and i suddenly wanted to do this for the whole bible (a lofty goal? perhaps)...! and the friend i confessed this to said, "i would buy that book, even if i wasn't a christian anymore!!" 

imagine. a book of art and found poetry, created as i thrash my way anew through old words? abstract reflection and interaction with ages-old text, and the heart of God? i want that book.

and i have been waiting to find "my book", since i am 8 weeks into a 12-week writing course whose intent was to come out with a manuscript; but all i was writing seemed to fall flat. nothing seemed right.

but this? this is me.

this is my journey, moving quietly in rhythm with the spirit, no cold-hard-fact answers; only whispers and questions and creating and receiving.

last week, i began in genesis, and have made it through the first four days of creation.

and i have to tell you: it has been incredible. and whether or not it ends up published as an official book, this process...? it has already been invaluable and life-giving for me.

and i hope the glimpses will refresh you, too

"October is a fine and dangerous season...a wonderful time to begin anything at all." - Thomas Merton

here is to #31days of thrashing

when your calling is a faint orange glow

laughter in the dark

vital abandon

voice being drawn out

aware of her windy reality.

(found poetry in my art journal)

***

A faint orange glows through the fog and gives me hope.

My life chaotic at best; at worst, a failure.

I dream big dreams of light cast into dark. Of artist-birthed life making its way into a hurting world. Of hearts healed. Of beauty and spirit-wind wrapped holy together, bringing truth that frees instead of binds.

And then I live.

Isolated, unfree myself. Wrapped wholly with the whims of beloveds and their bedlam. Unseen, unheard because I do not speak. I long to bring life, bravery. I live fearful, greedy for solitude, shamebound.

They say the area of your struggle is inseparably woven with your calling.

If I was having coffee with you and these words poured out of you, I would be so drawn to offer grace, rest. To make sure you knew you don’t have to meet anybody’s expectations (yours included). That, yes, you have this amazing calling to offer light and life and beauty and freedom and healing. But the failing is the lie.

All the trying, beating up the beauty because it’s not quite beautiful enough.

The fighting with life instead of living it.

And most of all, I’d want you to know he’s right there.

In the afternoons with a three-year-old anarchist whose heart you desperately want to guard in ways yours never was.

In the hundreds of minutes you feed and lullaby your baby, hoping for a soul that knows it’s worth rescuing.

In the confusion of intimacy.

In the tension between beauty-longings and real-life mess.

Even when you haven’t given him the time you “should”. There is no condemning coming from his heart, so if you’re sensing damnation-emotion, you gotta fight, albeit an unseen enemy.  One that pretends he’s not there so you think it’s your own voice, or even that of the life-way-truth. It’s not. He may even sound like people you love. He likes to put flesh-and-blood to his lies like that. But no matter what, it’s not true.

You are enough.

Your heart is worth fighting for, just like those little boys’.

And those women you dream freedom for.

He bled to rescue your heart, so you simply can’t give it back over to the liar. To the hater of your aliveness.

it might look like the easy way out – to wallow, to believe in your worthlessness. Because then it doesn’t matter so much that your days don’t look like your dreams. But think of the alive-in-your-purpose days. Isn’t even that handful worth the fight?

Well, isn’t it?

And I am surprised to hear my own heart answering yes. Oh, yes.