Daily Dose (Mar 18 – 21)
TUESDAY MAR 18 —
“What is Real?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”
“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but Really loves you, then you become Real.”
“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.
“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”
“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”
“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
(The Velveteen Rabbit, Margery Williams)
It is easy to say. And easy to read.
And it is most certainly true.
But saying and doing are two different things.
I do know this: Some days I do “mind” being hurt.
And I want to run away.
Or I want someone to fix it.
Or I want to tell whoever or whatever to “go away.”
And on those days, I need the reminder and the invitation and affirmation that self-love is a radical act of healing, resilience and well-being.
There is no doubt, uncertainty and “broken things” are very real. But here’s the deal: I don’t want to shut down. An essential reminder that care of any kind—engagement, service, kindness, generosity, ministry, teaching, compassion, gentleness, encouragement, healing—is predicated on, and fueled by, self-care.
WEDNESDAY MAR 20 — In the documentary “Last Letters Home,” Paula Zasadny, mother of 19-year-old Specialist Holly McGeogh (killed by a bomb in Kirkuk), talks about a visit from marines in dress uniform.
“It was the lightest tap on my door that I’ve ever heard in my life,” says Zasadny. “I opened the door and I see the men in the dress greens and I knew. I immediately knew. But I thought that if, as long as I didn’t let him in, he couldn’t tell me. Then it–none of that would’ve happened. So, he kept saying, ‘Ma’am; I need to come in.’ And I kept telling him, ‘I’m sorry, but you can’t come in.'”
I cannot relate to Paula Zasadny’s loss.
But I can relate to “light taps at the door,” whether real or imagined.
So can you.
Because we all have parts of our life that unravel, or splinter, or even reduce us thunderstruck. And while we never know what the trigger (whether immense or trivial) may be, and while we never know whether it will be wrapped in tragedy or hurt or misunderstanding or simply accumulated aggravation, we do know that it will be, somehow, woven into the fabric of our days.
Do we need answers? There’s a part of us that says, “Please!”
But let us begin with sanctuary—the grounding and fuel for self-love and a radical act of healing, resilience, and well-being.
Sanctuary is a space where can hit the reset button. And hear the voice of Grace. And find rest in God’s sustenance.
I’m in favor of finding sanctuary, especially in craziness.
If we let craziness (noise) grip us, it gets dizzying, and we lose track of the music inside. But sanctuary is sustained by hearing the music—the music of grace and healing resilience—regardless of our circumstances. Why? Because the music is still there. Buried maybe, but still there.
Where are the sanctuary places for you?
It’s tempting to give instructions. And suggestions are okay, as long as they don’t become constraints. That being said… if instructions would be helpful for you, start with these five:
#1 – Be gentle with yourself. Give voice to your soul.
#2 – Turn off the noise. And pay attention. Even if only for five minutes. What do you see, hear, taste, smell and touch? Be here. Now. The gift of sanctuary.
#3 – Take a deep breath. Let it out, and say “thank you.” Literally.
#4 – Don’t be afraid to let your heart be real and unencumbered.
#5 – Try it again tomorrow.
THURSDAY MAR 20 — On my recent Portuguese Camino pilgrimage, I would carry small stones in my pocket (or hand) each day. Along the way, it was not uncommon to find cairns (from a Gaelic term meaning “heap of stones”), each stone representing burdens, or troubles, or choices to be forgiven, that are now named, and “released”—added to the cairn.
And yes, as you walk, even small stones are a weight. And, when I passed a cairn, I paused. And I set the stones down. “As I place this stone, I ask for the gift of grace, and for guidance and wisdom, as I navigate the challenges that lie ahead.”
And we also placed (released) stones as a prayer of gratitude, for people and events that have touched our lives and made them stronger.
Releasing the stones, a beneficial ritual, for what we say “Yes” to, and what we say “No” to.
On the pilgrimage, you learn early that the “Camino space” is big enough to include and hold many things. Beginning with this gift: We are not confined to a script, and gratefully there is no compulsion to find closure.
And, as we release those “weights,” we realize and honor that being embraced and letting go, go hand in hand, as grace envelops and holds us. Yes, the healing power of Self-love. Not as a project, but a gift. A radical act of healing, resilience, and well-being.
Life, as we know, is weighted with a heap-plenty-enough expectations. “Am I doing it right?” is one of my favorites.
No, it’s not easy to let go of this script—life as a race or contest or beauty pageant.
I’m smiling at a memory, as I eavesdropped on a couple of tourists (eavesdropping is one of my spiritual gifts). A couple walking through one of the Cathedrals, looking at the guidebook on their phone, him saying to her, “We should figure out how to do this tour in the right order. I don’t think we’re doing this right.”
Yes, another big smile.
Because I can really relate. After all, what should we do first or second or third? And what if we’re going about this in the wrong order?
One of the struggles, and extraordinary gifts of the Camino, is letting go of expectations. The Camino is not a race, and the pace simply does not matter. There is no defined “spiritual experience,” and in fact, “success” for the Camino seems to be showing up, being present, letting grace envelop, and putting one foot in front of the other.
The gift of “Release”: verb
1. to free from confinement, bondage, obligation, pain, let go.
2. to free from anything that retrains.
3. to allow to be known, issued, done.
4. to give up, relinquish, or surrender.
As I am continuing to write my reflections from my Camino pilgrimage, I’m enjoying Stephen Drew’s, Into the Thin, a Pilgrimage Walk Across Northern Spain.
FRIDAY MAR 21 — In her book The Sabbath World, Judith Shulevitz quotes a lovely teaching by 18th century master The Vilna Gaon. “Consider the mystery surrounding the first Shabbat. Why did God stop, anyway? God stopped to show us that what we create becomes meaningful only once we stop creating it and start remembering why it was worth creating in the first place.”
Shulevitz closes by saying, “We have to remember to stop because we have to stop to remember.”
My good friend Sam greets me, “Namaste.” Meaning, I bow to you, or to the divine spark I see in you.
That always, gratefully, gives me the permission to Pause.
And the reminder of what we too often fail to see; that we too, are a gift. Each one of us carries within us that divine spark. The image of our Creator.
So yes; our invitation to stop to remember where we are grounded.
And to take heart in the good news: love (like light), always spills to the world around us.
“When we reach out in compassion and love to other people, we are filling the space that surrounds them—and us—with love. We are creating a space of love. We are rooting ourselves in love and hospitality.” (Thank you, Macrina Wiederkehr)
So, if someone asks this week, “What do you do?”
You can answer, “I make space.”
We make space to see.
We make space to remember.
We make space to be seen.
We make space to give wholeheartedly.
We make space to welcome.
We make space to offer comfort or reprieve or hope.
We make space to be Sabbath (sanctuary—self-care and self-love), in a world of disquiet, disruption and misgiving.
Tell me, where (and who) are the sanctuary places for you?
And in what ways can we make space with kindness, create sanctuary for those around us?
“Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around,” Leo F. Buscaglia reminds us.
Maybe that is exactly what we need today… one smile, one hug, one kind word, one healing gesture, one cup of coffee, or tea, at a time.
Prayer for our week…
For Peace
As the fever of day calms towards twilight
May all that is strained in us come to ease.
We pray for all who suffered violence today,
May an unexpected serenity surprise them.
For those who risk their lives each day for peace,
May their hearts glimpse providence at the heart of history.
That those who make riches from violence and war
Might hear in their dreams the cries of the lost.
That we might see through our fear of each other
A new vision to heal our fatal attraction to aggression.
That those who enjoy the privilege of peace
Might not forget their tormented brothers and sisters.
That the wolf might lie down with the lamb,
That our swords be beaten into ploughshares
And no hurt or harm be done
Anywhere along the holy mountain.
John O’Donohue
Photo… “Good morning Terry! I’m in training for the Camino Portuguese next month. I will be walking the Spiritual Variant from Tui to Santiago. It’s something I have wanted to do for a long time. Yesterday I walked 6.5 miles along the Asilomar Coastal Trail in California. I paused from time to time to marvel at the sights along the way. The yellow flower is a Menzies Wallflower. It’s very rare and was nearly extinct but was saved by my friend and botanist, Tom. They grow in the dunes of Asilomar. Buen Camino,” Patricia Reilly (Monterey, CA)… Thank you Patricia… I’m so grateful for your photos, please send them to tdh@terryhershey.com
