Everyday: Scarves

Introducing! A new category entitled "everyday," where I just get to share fun quips about every day. For instance, every day I brush my teeth. Everyday I have every intention of making my bed. And today's subject: scarves. Everyday I wear a scarf. Well, most every day. And I'm not talking chunky knit scarves, though I do wear those in the winter when necessary. I mean long flowy wraps. You can wrap them tightly or loosely; wrap them over your shoulders or lap when it's cold or sit on it when it's picnic time. And scarves add instant flair to anything. Add some sunglasses and some earrings and you are jet set, ready to travel the world, or simply ride the bus into school. Any way, I am so happy to add scarf wearing to my every day. They just make me feel like me, and I'm pretty sure that's supposed to happen. So, for your benefit and my happiness, I give you a look back at my life in scarves.

A Gallery of Celebration

"Scarves: Useful and Lovely in Any Situation"

In England's blustery autumn awaiting sunny Africa

And even in sunny Africa with Junior

While trying to master the Underground

While getting in a nap at Europe's largest night club

Try one on!

In Progress,

Lacy

A Rhythmic Return

I'm back! And well read, well rested, well fed... doing quite well, actually. You know a place is growing on you when you feel comfortable upon return. In fact, one of the first things I did to initiate my weekend was settle in:

Simply the basics, of course! And check out that view outside my window! A lush Washington rainforest. For two days straight I sat in a rocking chair, reading by the light of the coziest lamp, looking out of this sight when I needed to pause in contemplation, or more likely for a little break. I read about various daily practices while indulging on Cheez-It crackers and lemonade (courtesy of a self-care grocery run). I paused to walk the monastery's trail or eat with the sisters, some who had been at the priory for nearly 50 years! I also participated in the liturgy of the hours, and though I wasn't taken in at the beginning, by my fourth time, singing the Psalms to the same quiet tunes began to feel ritualistic. I read a lot about praying the daily office while at the monastery, and it seems like a rich and rhythmic thing to practice each day at particular hours. I could use more pauses and re-centering in my life.

I could use more trips to the monastery, too. But my wallet isn't that big, my schedule isn't that empty, and next year, I won't have a car to take me there. So I wonder, how can I translate my experience at the Priory to my everyday experience here in Seattle? How can I transfer the peaceful rhythm I felt there into  my current day to day hustle and bustle? 

Your guess is as good as mine, but I'm thinking it has something to do with these daily practices. And these practices and I are starting to become very good friends because of it.

In Progress,

Lacy

Space: To Explore and to Breathe

Starting tomorrow morning at 10am I'll be spending 48 hours here:

St. Placid Priory

St. Placid Priory is a Benedictine Monastery (of women) about an hour south in Lacey, Washington. You bet you read that right. So it feels providential that I always find myself heading there when the world around me feels jumbled and I need to locate myself again (okay, this is only my second time, but still...). This trip serves as a time to both get my head wrapped around this term and to rest, but also to get some hands on practice with a group of women that have committed their lives to living out the daily practices of St. Benedict's rule in order to live more closely to Christ.

I don't exactly know how the weekend will go, but I do know that when I think about it it feels like space--space that I'm ready to enter into with steady intention. And a healthy dose of some self care too.

Since Benedict didn't know about the internet, I'll be seeing you in two days time,

In Progress,

Lacy

Birthdays

Delicious photo of delicious cupcake from here.

Birthdays. We all have them. And we all deserve for them to be the best of our lives. Then again, we all deserve for each day to be the best of our lives, but it's far more easier to prioritize one day out of the year. Today, that day belongs to two important people in my life: my roommate, Katie Jensen, and my mom. It's easy for me to make my own day special, but as the birthdays come to pass of people that are close to me, I've begun to wonder, I can I help them really feel like this is their day? I know that special feeling I have when it's my birthday--it's the same one I had when I was five. Can I feel that same excitement for someone else too? I hope so. And I hope that I can make these people feel special. Because they are special. And I am happy they were born.

And I guess that is really what celebrating birthdays is all about, isn't it?

In Progress,
Lacy

Another Farewell

I thought Meredith would be hard until I realized this was happening. Even before I had time to watch the Today Show in the morning, I was always watching Oprah after school at 4pm. What are NBCs around the nation going to do at 4pm tomorrow? What am I going to do at 4pm tomorrow? Well, actually, I'll be working, like most every, but the point is, if I were home, as I dream of being most days around 4pm, I wouldn't be watching Oprah.

I hate endings. I think goodbyes are awkward. But I am a sucker for nostalgia, and love to end well and beautifully, if indeed it must happen. Today, Oprah did just that. With no guests, no surprises--just the presence of her audience--she shared her life lessons and wisdom gained over the past 25 years along with her gratitude for her committed viewers. And she spent a good chunk of that time talking about God and faithfulness and tuning into God's presence in life. Oh, Oprah, you had me at hello.

Photo from here.

Yet now it's time to say goodbye. And after refusing to say goodbye and said rather "be seeing you," these her final words: To God be the glory. Amen, Oprah. Amen.

In Progress,

Lacy

On Mornings

Every morning, well, most mornings, though not tomorrow morning... Oftentimes, I get up at 6am. Now when it was dark until well past 7am in the Seattle winter it was miserable, but now the sun is high and shining, as much as is possible in the Pacific Northwest, well before 6. Before I had more of an agenda as well, so the waking up when it's pitch black plus a to do list made my mornings less than satisfying. They were meant to be a restful day to start the day, and all I was really doing was missing out on some rest.

But now, they are my absolute favorite. Maybe it's because of the sun, maybe it's because my body is waking up even slightly earlier than six so I can lay in bed for a bit rather than jumping up to turn off the alarm, or maybe it's because I've nixed the agenda. I'm pretty sure it's all of those things. So this is now what my mornings look like, between the hours of 6 and 7, with the press of a snooze button here and there, and the option to do whatever I might like, which somedays is to simply sit and sip, just like this:

I hope you find time for delight in your mornings.

In Progress,

Lacy

Every Monday.

Every Monday I ride the bus for 1 1/2 hours to get to therapy. And then afterwards I reward myself with coffee (sometimes cider or tea if I've already had my fill). Every Monday I head from therapy to work at Mars Hill Graduate School. And every Monday, as I walk to Westlake Center to take the bus or the light rail home, I stop in at Pike Place Market, my absolute favorite thing in Seattle, and buy a flower.

Photo from here.

At least there is one benefit to the cool springtime weather that lingers on here in Seattle even though it's almost June: we've had spring flowers for nearly four months straight (local!). I mean literally, there are still daffodils and tulips blooming in the ground, and the crocuses dared to show their face in January! And so I simply must indulge. We'll call it engaging in Pacific Northwest Culture. I try to get a new variety each week. There are so many unique kinds that I've never seen before! My favorites thus far are a peachy daffodil that is layered and looks like God was throwing a party with confetti, and a tulip that is so full it looks like a peony. But this week, I really stepped out on a limb and got an Iris. Sometimes a little change appropriate; don't want to get too spoiled with the tulips after all. 

One lovely springtime stem is just $1, and with complete and utter joy being such a bargain, I think I'll be making this a routine until the very day I leave Seattle.

In Progress,

Lacy

Baked Spaghetti, Pantry Style

Today I had a hankering to make baked spaghetti. I'd been craving Italian and I  had some pasta sauce that I needed to use up, but I didn't want the same old same old. So I found a recipe from 'ole faithful Martha Stewart for this:

Find it here.

But I didn't really follow the recipe. I sort of made it up according to what I had. It's really fun when you feel confident enough to do that... or foolish enough. Depends on the outcome, I suppose.

Here is my personal Martha Stewart-ish Pantry Baked Spaghetti Recipe:

Ingredients:

1/2 jar marinara sauce

handful or so of capellini

1 chicken breast, shredded

a few handfuls of shredded mozzarella cheese

5-6 basil leaves, torn (from my own plant!)

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees

2. Salt water for pasta and bring to a boil. Cook pasta for 5 minutes (won't be fully cooked). Cook chicken in microwave while cooking pasta (yes, I do admit to doing that). Shred chicken with fork.

3. After 5 minutes strain pasta and combine back in pot with sauce, basil, chicken breast, and a handful of cheese.

4. Place mixture in 8x8 casserole dish. Or 9x9, if that's it.

5. Cover the top with remaining cheese.

6. Bake for 20-25 minutes, until cheese is slightly golden.

Buon Appetito!

In Progress,

Lacy

Worth Two Days... At Least!

So yes, I didn't blog yesterday. And yes, I did forget. And yes, I did actually remember when I was in bed with the light off already half asleep... and yes, I simply went to sleep.

But today... oh, today, was an ultimate day. Because I did something that takes at least a week for me to do regularly, and it's only for the purpose of getting here to there at those times. Today I went on a miniature pilgrimage, Spanish-style. In Seattle. My friend David had walked a part of the famous pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela a year ago, and as he was recollecting memories passed after a year gone by, he thought he might like to do a bit of walking to commemorate his time there. Knowing my interest in pilgrimage, he asked if I might like to go along.

Read about the pilgrimage here

I was intrigued and was immediately in, though he said that he was hoping to walk from his neighborhood, Magnolia, to West Seattle. It sounded really far... and it was. We left at 7am, stopped walking at 2pm, with only a tiny intermission for coffee at one of David's favorite spots along the way. But there's something so neat about walking endlessly--and I don't mean your average neighborhood walk. We noticed both things and people we never would have if we were in a car, and we weren't in any rush. Just on a pilgrimage of sorts to west Seattle. So how far did we walk, you ask? Drum roll please...

15 whopping miles. For  some reason David was thinking it would only be 6 1/2. At the end of the day I was certain it was at least 10. But it was 15. That's more than a 1/2 marathon! No bragging intended, I am just completely surprised, because we didn't really even know we were doing it! And who knows when that day will come again. My feet will tell me that answer tomorrow. 

After we decided to call it a day, we had celebratory fish and chips  and a drink as we waited for a bus that would take us a bus that would take us all the way back to David's house, where we had begun our day. And as a personal thank you to my feet, I bought this special treat on the way home to accompany my impending hot bath:

Photo from here.

And it was so, so lovely.

In Progress,

Lacy

Ladies' Night

Some lovely friends of mine, Meghan Cappon and Jenny Wanty, started a little get together called TATAS (read: ladies only). And every time we have it, it is always absolutely just what I need. Tonight that just so happened to be hot tubbing under clear Seattle skies, accompanied (beforehand) by wine and chocolate. It could also be true that I didn't have a chance to eat dinner, thus I had to eat more chocolate to survive.

It was complete loveliness, as ladies often are. And so, since you couldn't share in it, I leave you with a picture of loveliness with a healthy dose of femininity from a blog I recently found via my most favorite blog, hitherandthither.net. FYI, this picture just so happens to trace my desktop now, greeting me with the fullness of beauty every morning.

In Progress, with some lovely ladies,

Lacy

Yoga for One

I had the intention of going to yoga today--three separate times. Not meaning I would go three times, just that I kept putting it off, really. I have a good reason, though--a paper that's due tomorrow, accompanied by a presentation, begetting a lot of making up words and theses, and using superfluous terms that I found in my thesaurus, such as "begetting" and "superfluous."

Anyway, I didn't make it to yoga. And it's almost 10:30, so they're closed. I'm not finished with my paper, and it's likely that I will put it off until the early morning. And even as I try to finish a few final sentences for the night, I can always use a distraction, and definitely need to make up for my lack of yoga this particular Wednesday, so I'm going to do this:

She catches on to trends so well. 

I'm not going to do the burning ones though. Just the relaxing one. For bedtime. We'll see if I get back to my paper after this one. My guess is no.

In Progress, (but will finish my paper tomorrow),

Lacy

Moving On With What I've Got

I  have this succulent from Ikea. I don't even know what it's called, exactly, but I was very happy to have it, because you see, I once had a fern, and I tried very hard to care for that fern. But it died. Over Christmas. I had even made a homemade upside down water bottle self watering thing. It worked; the fern took that water. And then it died because it wasn't enough.

I wasn't going to risk it the next time. After getting an annoying heather plant that sheds its buds all the time, prompting me to get a dust buster, I was so proud to get a succulent. I see them growing everywhere around Seattle. Between every nook and cranny. Literally. That's where they seem to grow. They thrive because they don't need much care. You only have to water them every two weeks or so. Granted, I've never looked this up, and perhaps only gathered this information from the price sticker on the plant. Which could or could not explain why I cam home the other day and one of the stems looked like death. It was green on the top, green on the bottom, but black in the middle. With the slightest touch the stem fell to pieces, the center of it not even shriveled. It was moist, it was dark, it looked just like the dirt in which it sat. And it looked like a plague had over taken it.

I was just so sad. My succulent! My last hope! I'm supposed to live a life with a huge garden, for both edibles and lovely flowers. What does this mean if I can't even keep a succulent going? But instead, I simply removed it and put that one stem in it's proper place: the trash can. And on my shelf the succulent lives on, lopsidedly in the pot. Because sometimes death just happens. But I'm not going to let it distract me from the beauty that remains, and I'm certainly not going to let it rain on my parade. Or plague my plants.

My succulent, right at home and
moving on rather nicely, thank you!

In Progress,

Lacy

A Loss for Words

I've been listening to a lot of instrumental music lately, mostly classical, with as full a bodied orchestra as I can get. I don't know as much about instrumental music as I'd like to pretend. My classical training comes solely from piano sonatas and etudes. But it's become more than just something to listen to for me; listening to instrumental quiets my mind, which is always filled with words. Words, words, words. I'm fairly tired of words at this point, at least the ones that bounce around in my mind like they own the place. I'd much rather fill that place with a dancing soundtrack of notes and melodies, with trills and frills and even dissonance here and there. It much better communicates what I'm feeling these days, and yet it's far less complicated and binding than the words in my head that seem to hold me prisoner. All that is to say is that my radio dial (I really do have a dial and I am so proud) is permanently set to 98.1 KING FM, the classical channel for Seattle, unless, of course, The Prairie Home companion or Travel with Rick Steves is on, and then I happily jump over to NPR, both shows an equally lovely escape.

Here is a piece that has stayed with me so much in the last few months that when I doodle, I draw all the notes. (Just like Beethoven, I'm sure.) I confess, it was its appearance in The King's Speech that sparked my interest. But I couldn't shake it after the film was over--there's something beautiful about the steady dreary and dependable beat playing alongside a melody that is singing and searching uniquely and with hope. As they would say here at good 'ole MHGS, the movement "holds both perspectives well." It has become my lament and my anthem at the same time. Oh, the tension.

So, without further ado, I give you Beethoven's Symphony #7, Movement 2 (according to The King's Speech at least):

           

In Progress,
Lacy

An Ode to Leftovers

Oh, leftovers, you are my joy

The work of yesterday

Becomes today's nourishment

Aided by the microwave

Ninety seconds or so

I am fed, I am filled, I am deeply satisfied.

The reality of leftovers after slaving over a stove (or even a slow cooker) is so sweet, and savory, depending on the dish, of course. One of my favorite meals to have leftover is red beans and rice; cajun, simple, and cheap.

Filling, yes.

To make red beans and rice leftovers, follow these simple instructions:

1. Soak 1 bag of dried red beans over night.
2. In the morning, rinse the beans. Chop 1/2 an onion and 2 garlic cloves. Cut up a few pieces of bacon too.
3. Combine beans, onion, garlic, and bacon in the slow cooker. Add water, rising around 1 inch above beans.
4. Flavor with 1-2 bay leaves, salt, and pepper.
5. Cook all day on low, seasoning as needed.
6. In the evening, cook some rice and throw some Jiffy cornbread in the oven.
7. Combine rice and beans and eat your share, putting the remainder in the refrigerator.
8. The next day for lunch, simply take the leftovers out of the fridge, heat in the microwave, and enjoy!

Bon appetit!

In Progress,

Lacy

Climb Every Mountain

Or at least something similar, and I'm limiting that to the general Seattle vicinity and to hikes that do not require an ice pick. Yes, today we embarked on a tried and true adventure, and what I am hoping will be the first of many: the hike. I don't even know the name of the mountain we hiked--tiger something? But I know that it was close, and I know that it was lush, and I know that there was barely a cloud in the sky, so I'm not even sure we were actually in the Pacific Northwest.

Tall, tall trees.

There are snow capped mountains everywhere you turn in the Seattle area.
When there are no clouds, that is.

We made it! Apparently we climbed West Tiger #3.

The contrast between the downtown of my everyday and the wilderness that I can encounter within the same transit time astounds me. It really does seem like two different worlds. And maybe because it is. And in the same way nature draws me back from the city to what is true and authentic, I am feeling a tug in me as well. As I round out my first year at Mars Hill Graduate School/The Seattle School of Theology and Psychology etc., I feel the tug to return to my intention, and as I move closer I'm filled with life again.

These two also brought me life today on my journey:

Bri (old) and Alyssa (new). And me in the middle.

Two of my five roommates. One new, one old. Silver and gold indeed.

In Progress,
Lacy

A Lullaby For You, Tired One

I have been reading through the complines from the book Celtic Daily Prayer: Prayers and Readings from the Northumbria Community pretty regularly for a while now (thank you Katie Jensen). At twenty four years old with an impossibly busy schedule and a perfectionist complex, I need nothing as much at the end of the day as I need to be put back in my place, realigned with my intention, nestled away in the assurance that I am small and God is not. (Side note: I almost said He, but then I would have most certainly been inclined to say He/She, but I chose to spare you the complication as well as to spare me the explanation. Conundrum averted!)

The word compline is derived from the Latin completorium; thus, compline signals the end of the day. Compline can be recognized as the final service of the day or simply the final prayer of the day, but either way it is always a time of peace and contemplation. The complines I follow are written prayers, a new one for each day of the week. Because of it's gentle nature, I like to think of it as a lullaby, because it just makes me feel safe, secure, and loved, and let's be honest, I waver a bit in those areas during the day. So, tonight, in the comfort of your covers, Friday's compline for you (taken from the the book mentioned above):

A memorial wall at Auschwitz, Poland, July 2008.

+ silently (sign of the cross)


O Lord, You will keep us safe 
and protect us forever.


I am placing my soul and my body
in Thy safe keeping this night, O God,
in Thy safe keeping, O Jesus Christ,
in Thy safe keeping, O Spirit of perfect truth.
The Three who would defend my cause
be keeping me this night from harm.


I call on You, O God,
for You will answer me;
give ear to me and hear my prayer.


Show the wonder of Your great love,
You who save by Your right hand
those who take refuge in You from their foes.


Keep me as the apple of Your eye;
hide me in the shadow of Your wings.


Lighten my darkness, Lord.
Let the light of Your presence
dispel the shadows of night.


Christ with me sleeping,
Christ with me waking,
Christ with me watching,
each day and each night.


Save us, Lord, while we are awake,
guard us while we are asleep;
that, awake, we may watch with Christ,
and, asleep, may rest in His peace.*              (*This is okay. Christ was indeed a boy!)

God with me protecting,
the Lord with me directing,
the Spirit with me strengthening
for ever and for evermore.


In the name of the Father precious,
and of the Spirit of healing balm.
In the name of the Lord Jesus,
I lay me down to rest.


The peace of all peace be mine this night
+in the name of the Father,
and of the Son,
and of the Holy Spirit.
Amen.


And the Mother, too.

In Progress and Goodnight,
Lacy

Thursday, May 12, 2011 (And I did not forget!)

This is what I saw when I attempted to blog last night:

And again this morning, desperately trying to recover lost time lest you think I forgot once more:

Repetition is fun whilst blogging, but annoying whilst trying to blog.
(Saying whilst, however, is always a delight.)

Oh irony of ironies, that as I try to keep a daily blog about daily practices, I cannot even succeed perfectly. Much grace to me as I struggle and discover how to engage my days with intentional practices, with a dash of laughter from the sidelines thrown in.

In Progress,

Lacy

P.S.: Grace to you too, of course. Even if you are one of those laughing with care on the sidelines. I'm pretty sure God's there right along with you.

Pose of the Day: Shoulder Stand

So I finally made it to the yoga class I plan to attend on a regular basis today, at least over my remaining months living in the 98118. An hour and a half of hatha yoga, left me informed, worn out, and feeling accomplished. There's something invigorating about going to yoga first thing in the morning (though I won't be going to the 6am class, mind you). Even if I am tired and it is raining as I leave, I walk to my car with an extra skip in my step. Maybe that's because today we got to do this:

Shoulder stand.

Something I just recently found out existed in yoga, but I had in fact been doing all my life for fun! Well, childhood that is. Perhaps it's been a few years since I last molded myself into this interesting pose. And I'm not sure how I ever even discovered it really. I feel like you could only come up with it out of pure boredom. But that pure boredom soon turns into pure excitement as you start to do something completely wacky.

Here's how it goes (taken from here):

____________________________________

How-to: Lie down on your back with arms alongside your body, and bring knees into your chest. With legs either bent or straight, lift your hips and reach your feet toward the floor behind your head. Interlace your fingers with arms straight on the ground, and squeeze your shoulder blades and elbows close together. Bend your elbows and support your middle back with your palms, fingers facing up. Either one at a time or together, lift your legs up vertical, gently pressing your knees and ankles together.

Tips: To lift your body more vertical, squeeze your ribs between your thumbs and forefingers, and gently lift your body up and forward. Use deep breaths to expand your chest and increase the distance between your shoulders and hips.

Benefits: Opens the neck and back. Good for circulation.

____________________________________ 

You can't resist, can you?

In Progress, Upside Down,

Lacy

On Forgetfulness (or Tuesday, May 10, 2011)

Today is Wednesday. Yesterday was Tuesday. I went to sleep at the beautiful hour of 9pm and simply forgot to blog. It was that realization that got me out of bed today in fact. Because I hate forgetting things. Especially when I'm doing so well. And by "hate," I mean that I take it out on myself when I forget things. And then the truth is that I'd rather lie to myself--cover it up as soon as possible, forget it ever happened--or lie to you, trying to date my entry on Tuesday. I know, it didn't work. I don't know enough code for that. And I guess I'm already confessing to you anyway. The cat's out of the bag.

It's just a blog! you're thinking. Yep, it is (though the school part does add a twist). The more and more I am aware of this tendency, the more I realize that it is ingrained in me. It's hurtful toward myself, it's dishonest to myself and others... but the good thing is, because I am becoming more aware of this ancient tendency, I can pause, realize what's going on, breathe in, breathe out, shrug my shoulders, decide what needs to be done next, and move on.

So here it is: pause, in, out, shrug... 

Maybe go to a happy and peaceful place by imagining I'm here:

Santorini, Greece, 2008

...and move on. Whoops! It seems I forgot to blog yesterday. Ah, well, c'est la vie. A good lesson, though, in what keeps me ticking (or breaks my clock) everyday. See you later on today... maybe :)

Definitely in progress,

Lacy

Goodbye, Meredith: A Loving Tribute

Every day I watch the most relevant show on morning television (minus the season of lent, where I consequently know no news whatsoever):

We're number 1!

It was a mere five years ago that I lost a daily presence in my life to the CBS Evening News:

She apparently moved on to a tap gig once primetime television began.

I remember her last day, sometime at the end of May in 2006. I had spent 9 hours in the Cincinnati airport with Andrew Magana in hopes of catching a Delta flight to Paris. Luckily, there was a television, and they knew where to get their news.

In the news today however, I lost another daily presence in my life: Meredith Vieira. I was so hesitant to welcome her into my daily routine, and right when she really starts feeling like a regular, she has to leave me. Meredith has brought so much to morning television:

Revealing interviews.

Compelling investigations.

Risking her health to bring you the morning news. That water is frigid.

But alas, I am told that I must say goodbye to my daily friend (let's be honest, I see her more than you). Here's to you, Meredith Vieira, and to one final month of you, me, a great start to the day, and the best news my antenna can deliver. Anne Curry, you'll be seeing more of me starting June.

In Progress,

Lacy

The Scenic Route

On Friday I finished the first book I assigned myself to read for my daily practices class: Finding Our Way Again, by Brian McLaren. The book introduces a series put out by Thomas Nelson called The Ancient Practices Series. Dan Allender's book Sabbath is a part of this series, along with In Constant Prayer, Fasting, Tithing, The Sacred Meal, The Liturgical Year, and The Sacred Journey, all of which I own and hope to get to soon after reading this introduction (I bought most for $5 at a discount Christian bookstore in Branson, but that does not deplete their relevance; I found Dwight's book, Thy Kingdom Connected, there too--don't tell him).

You can by yours here.

It was a great book to start with as I begin to muse about what it means to live intentionally and the role of daily practices in that intention, spiritual practices in particular. Personally, I think that all daily practices are spiritual, and that our presence and engagement in those moments, especially the frustrating and mundane is impacted by the daily spiritual practices we hold.

In this book, McLaren is focusing on the ancient spiritual practices and introduces the following (I've starred the one's I really want to start engaging):

Solitude, Sabbath, and Silence

Spiritual Reading and Study

Spiritual Direction or Spiritual Friendship

Practicing God's Presence

Fixed-Hour Prayer*

Prayer Journaling*

Contemplative Prayer

Service, Secrecy, and Generosity

Simplicity and Slowness*

Fasting and Self-Denial

Feasting and Celebration

Holy Days and Seasons*

Submission

Gratitude*

Meditation and Memorization*

My guess is that each of the individual books address these practices more thoroughly, because McLaren goes on to emphasize something more foundational for the ancient practices: "the threefold way"--phases of the spiritual journey. These phases bring about both humility and desire, and I hope to continue to be affected by my reflection on them as I enter this journey. They are:

1. Via Purgativa (Latin) or Katharsis (Greek): Self-examination that "leads us to seek to be purified, purged, debugged, liberated, and transformed." (McLaren, p. 147)
2. Via Illumniativa or Fotosis: Enlightenment, meaning "having our minds and imaginations enlightened and our hearts and energies warmed with the light of God." (Ibid.*) (*such a nerd.)
3. Via Unitiva or Theosis: "unification of our being with God...we are taken into God and God fills us." (Ibid.)

It is a path that lasts a lifetime and one that is always winding. It is a continual story of confession, salvation, and redemption, of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, of shalom shattered, sought, and denoumat. And it is a path that is far different from the paved level one of which I was taught.

For that, and this rocky terrain-filled journey which I now choose, I am thankful. I'm calling it "the scenic route."

In Progress,

Lacy

Pose of the Day: Pigeon

Today I ventured out into our neighborhood (well, within our zip code) to a local yoga studio:

http://www.lotusyoga.biz/

I've known from the beginning that as I studied daily practices, I wanted to incorporate the practice of yoga. I've been familiar with it for less than a year (other than my two post-marathon stints), but I love the feelings that it brings about: strength, steadiness and peace all at once. Plus I can always use the encouragement to stay present with my breath, my one true constant. You'd think that since I'm always breathing I could try that out whenever I want, but I don't, because I sort of forget. Red flag raised, must do yoga.

Here is the pose we finished with today. Lot's of people hate it apparently, but I don't get it, because it's one of my favorites. Maybe that's because it hit's a runner in all the right places. Give it a try and we can see which category you fall under. I've also copied some handy dandy instructions from the Huffington Post for those readers out there:

Pigeon

How To:

On hands and knees, bring your right knee behind your right wrist. Walk your back leg straight out as far as it will go behind you. Moe your right foot forward a little till it's under your left hip joint or farther forward. Don't grab it with your hands, just move where your body can go by itself.

Bring your hands in front of you or forearms down to a couple of phone books or, eventually, the floor. Keep your hips centered in space and press your legs lightly into the floor to help protect your muscles as you stay and breathe into this deep stretch for 2 minutes.

Return to hands and knees, repeat on the other side. When your hips almost touch the floor, you will have transformed your lower body and low back.

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In Progress,

Lacy

Make a home; make a home in me.

Salisbury Cathedral, 2008

We gathered together with a group of friends from school tonight for the second round of musical lectio divina and contemplative spiritual engagement. We each wrote our own prayer and then passed them out at random. Here is the one I received:

Make a home.

Make a home in me.

Make me a home.

Teach me to trust you on the journey, as I carry home within me.

Teach me to trust you as I take root.

As the seeds we sow die and are raised again, over and over.

Give me people.

Give me places.

Give me work.

Give me Life.

Give me you.

Take our dreams and desires and hopes and fears. 

May we become a home to the homeless until we all go home.

It's Cinco de Mayo?

Today I made this:

Courtesy of thepioneerwoman.com 

White Chili. Which turned out to be the perfect idea once I realized that today is Cinco de Mayo. Though I'm not sure they have much white chili in Mexico. Mine is much more bland and Americanized, but oh so delicious! If only I had time to cook from scratch everyday. Good thing I made plenty of servings to save!

In Progress,

Lacy

The day-to-day

Last week I had epic plans to watch this:

No explanation necessary.

However, right when I was cozying up in bed, my tiny old TV/VCR combo freshly moved merely feet from my face for effective from-bed viewing, something horrendous happened: on the final test to make sure all was prepared before I turned off the light for a sound 4 hours of sleep before waking for the 1am coverage, the TV would not turn on! Well the TV would turn on, and the converter box would turn on, but somehow they weren't connecting. A bit of a panic arose, partly because it was a bit exciting to be panicked and partly because I simply was panicked. I scurried around the house testing any TV I could find; I was the only one that had an antenna but certainly we could make this work somehow, but to no avail.

As the clock struck 10pm I drew my impending conclusion: I simply must go get another television (partly because the ridiculousness of it all seemed like it would make a great story and partly because... I was panicked). Luckily, Wal-Mart closed at 11pm, so off Chelsea and I went to get this:

Plus a dodgy antenna.

A tiny splurge for a tiny TV. Victory for me and the monarchy alike (because they would've been upset for me to miss out). While watching in hushed volumes around 2:50 (dress reveal!) I concluded that this adventure was indeed one of the best decisions of my life.

However over the past few days the antenna has disappointed: I simply can't be watching a spotty Today show in the morning with such epic news going on (seriously this time). I bought another antenna and had the same results. So late last night I tried my old faithful TV (it entertained me during many childhood roadtrips--yes, that kind of TV), and within about an hour of fiddling and a switch of some chords, I got it to work--even the ever ambivalent (signaled) PBS. Great! But also not great--my guilty conscience that just spent $200 on a spree told me that I should go ahead and take the new one back (apparently I'm ambivalent too).

So today I attended to the mundane and did what needed to be done. I returned the new TV and both antennae (?) to their respective retailers, and bought a new chord for this gem:

Impressive lasting capabilities.

All set up and good to go. And you might be wondering: what does this have to do with daily practices? In reality, days can't be completely filled with romantic notions of simplistic transcendence--most of the time there are things that just need to get done in order to exist (some might debate the necessity of watching this epic event in order to exist, so I'm refiling it under "self-care"--can't say anything against that, can you?). I think where these times can be tied in with more seemingly sacred or creative daily practices lies in this: how do you carry yourself during the day-to-day? How do you interact with the mundane? In a positive light, after a while they might all blend together as daily intentional living. Now for that to happen, it's got to be spiritual!

So what about me? How did I carry myself in my day-to-day? How did I interact with the mundane reality of returning things, driving, repairing, etc? I just did. I simply let it come, moment by moment. And I even let myself get lost along the way. But in this positive light, I was happy to consider that as "discovering my surroundings."

In Progress,

Lacy

Long Live the Basil!

I've been growing herbs for the past couple of months--basil and parsley from seeds. I love watching the growth process and never cease to be amazed by how much the herbs tend to shoot up each day. I've memorized their pattern of growth from my green thumb endeavors last year, which has me waiting in anticipation for what happens next.

Yesterday, however, it seemed that this was what happened next:

Not mine, but equally disheartening.

Having been away for two and a half weeks I had left my beloved herbs in ikea pots in the care of a co-worker at school. Make no mistake, she did quite the lovely job tending to them. It is I who failed by neglecting to get them over the weekend once I returned (so they could get a little drink if nothing else). Of course I have a myriad of excuses--she was gone so her office was locked and I could never quite find the right person with the key... but I could have if I had put more than an ounce of effort to it.

"Ah, well," I had thought, "another year without successful herbs. Perhaps if I replant now I can have sprouts by the time the sun finally decides to shine in the Seattle summer." I watered them anyway, less filled with hope, more of an apology to that poor wilted being.

However, to my complete and utter delight, when I came upstairs today at school to accept my plant's fate, it looked just like this:

Still not mine, but just as perky!

It was completely revived! Resuscitated! Resurrected! Alive! How amazing is that?! (I can't deny: part of me gets some twisted curiosity and fascination with the thought that I can allow it to be on the brink of death and brink it back to life.) I am more proud of it now than I ever was before. And imagine: all in a day's time. 

Long live the basil! (The parsley is still working on it...)

In Progress,

Lacy

The Caverns of Possibility

Today begins my two months of delving into the art of daily practices: exploring their histories, being curious about their outcomes, deciding what fits and what doesn't (personally, at least). I will be blogging every day about daily practices as a part of an individualized research course I've created for my summer term at Mars Hill Graduate School. The course, called (appropriately) "Daily Practices,"is focused on various daily practices and how richness in life can be found in the intentional day-to-day and will explore practices from monastic rituals to cooking to the mundane tasks that simply must be done. 

I have been excited about shaping this course for many months, curious about how I can incorporate the ideas of daily practices and intentional living into my future plans. But as I finally begin, I realized that I'm stuck with where to actually start. It's about daily practices after all--the rhythms of life; shouldn't I already have these routines down pat? I'm wildly successful at the daily practice of checking my email and after 24 years am not doing so bad at brushing my teeth twice a day, but what are my other routine commitments in life? Or better yet, what routine commitments will bring me life?

I'd like to pretend that I know what I'm doing, but I don't. And maybe that is the best place to start: open to what lies ahead, a vast cavern of possibilities. So I begin with words that are not my own, but inspiring words that will hopefully become my manifesto as well. They are the words of Christine Valters Painter, founder of an online community called Abbey of the Arts  and leader of a program that I will be a part of in October called Awakening the Creative Spirit: Experiential Education for Spiritual Directors in the Creative Arts.

Salisbury Cathedral
May 2008

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Monk Manifesto

taken from: http://abbeyofthearts.com/about/monk-manifesto/

Monk: from the Greek monachos meaning single or solitary, a monk in the world does not live apart but immersed in the everyday with a single-hearted and undivided presence, always striving for greater wholeness and integrity

Manifesto: from the Latin for clear, means a public declaration of principles and intentions.

Monk Manifesto: A public expression of your commitment to live a compassionate, contemplative, and creative life.

1. I commit to finding moments each day for silence and solitude, to make space for another voice to be heard, and to resist a culture of noise and constant stimulation.

2. I commit to radical acts of hospitality by welcoming the stranger both without and within. I recognize that when I make space inside my heart for the unclaimed parts of myself, I cultivate compassion and the ability to accept those places in others.

3. I commit to cultivating community by finding kindred spirits along the path, soul friends with whom I can share my deepest longings, and mentors who can offer guidance and wisdom for the journey.

4. I commit to cultivating awareness of my kinship with creation and a healthy asceticism by discerning my use of energy and things, letting go of what does not help nature to flourish.

5. I commit to bringing myself fully present to the work I do, whether paid or unpaid, holding a heart of gratitude for the ability to express my gifts in the world in meaningful ways.

6. I commit to rhythms of rest and renewal through the regular practice of Sabbath and resist a culture of busyness that measures my worth by what I do.

7. I commit to a lifetime of ongoing conversion and transformation, recognizing that I am always on a journey with both gifts and limitations.

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In Progress,
Lacy