Daily Dose (October 14 – 17)
TUESDAY OCTOBER 14 — This week we picture our life as a cup.
And when life happens, and shakes us, the contents of our cup (our inner selves, the contents of our heart and spirit) will spill out.
So, when life gets tough, “What’s in my cup, and what spills over?”
Will it be gratefulness, peace, humility, joy and clarity?
Or, will it be anger, bitterness, resentment, harsh words and misunderstanding?
So, yes, life does provide us the cup, but we choose how to fill it.
Or maybe, we have forgotten who we are, and forgotten what is at our core—what is in our DNA, “the Imago Dei”—and our core gets covered or disregarded or buried with other noise and “stuff”.
Mother Teresa once told a roomful of lepers how much God loved them. She told them that they are “a gift to the rest of us.”
Interrupting her, an old leper raises his hand, and she calls on him. “Could you repeat that again please?” he asks. “It did me good. So, would you mind; just saying it again.”
Yes please. Just say it again.
Mother Teresa’s gentle way of reminding them what is “in their cup”—the power and gift of grace, even and especially when the world has told them they are undeserving or unworthy.
The cacophony in our world is loud. And if we’re at all insecure about our status—the grace that is in our cup, if you will—we are susceptible to (blinded by) public opinion, social media pressure and mob mentality. Bluntly, we lose our way. Okay, I’ll personalize this; I lose my way. And here’s how I know; when I demean, exclude, diminish, withhold mercy or withhold empathy (from others or myself) I lose my way. And it is no surprise that it “fills my cup” with depletion and impoverishment.
So. Here’s the deal: We need to pause. It is necessary to “quiet the internal noise,” in order to hear the gentle lessons of the heart and stories about sufficiency, not scarcity.
In a national magazine, an ad for the Humane Society minced no words. Above an adorable puppy and kitten, the ad read, “It’s who owns them that makes them important.”
Our wellbeing, is about who or what, owns us. The good news is this; when we lose our way, our authentic self is not gone. It’s just been unembraced, and marginalized.
There is a bad car accident on a busy street. A woman, from one of the vehicles, lay in the street, in need of medical assistance. A young woman bends over the body. A man rushes over.
“Move away please,” he tells the woman. “I’ve had CPR training. Let me handle this.” He pulls out his training manual.
After a minute, the young woman taps him on the shoulder and says, “When you get to the part about calling a doctor, I’m already here.”
That’ll preach.
In Parker Palmer’s words, “Our deepest calling is to grow into our own authentic selfhood. As we do so, we will find our path of authentic service in the world.”
Let us wade in, returning to the truth of who we are (you know, the one already here), and to the light we can spill.
To live fully into the self I’ve been given, an authentic self not gummed up with so many limiting stories.
“And Lord, it took me back to something that I’d lost
Somewhere, somehow along the way.”
(Kris Kristofferson, Sunday Morning Coming Down)
WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 15 — This coming weekend I’ll be in Saskatchewan, Canada, speaking to the people that are the hearts and arms and legs for the Holy Trinity Catholic School Division. Their theme, “Let us Be Lights of Hope.”
Yes, and Amen.
And, in my talk I’ll begin here: we are incumbered when we read this as an assignment. Yes, we swerve off the path so to speak. When we see light shining as something we need to gather the strength and drive in order to make it happen.
We miss the fundamental reality that the light—yes, the light of hope and the light of restoration—is alive and well inside of each of us. Now.
One of my favorite homilies to preach is from Matthew’s Gospel. Where Jesus tells the disciples, “You are the light of the world.”
And then adds, “Let your light shine.”
Can you give me a synonym for the verb let? Yes, Allow.
Allow, as in, the light is already there. Inside.
Jesus never said, “Create the light.” He never said, “Make the light.” He never even said, “Be good at light shining.”
He simply told us to get out of the way, and let the light that is already there, spill.
So. Instead of light shining classes, let us give ourselves the gift of embracing the light that is alive and well inside… the light of compassion, kindness, empathy, inclusion and hope.
(I can’t help but sing out loud, “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.”)
Granted, much of that light may be “under a bushel”, but it is still there, nonetheless. And this is the power: when we know that the light is here, now, we embrace (and are fueled by) the permission to be present.
Because when we don’t see (or miss seeing) because our light is “under a bushel”, we shut down or find ways to compensate. And we project strength through clout or cynicism or callousness. (Now we’re back to the hurtful and harmful things that may be spilling from our cup.)
Let—allow—your little light shine. And when we do that—let the light spill from our cup—there’s an extraordinary affirmation: I am enough, and strong on the inside. And not because of anything I have done or failed to do. Which means that I can live and choose and commit “from acceptance” and not “for acceptance.”
If we cannot see the sufficiency, we see and assume only scarcity. And it is peddled in many ways… “More is always better.” “That’s just the way it is.” “Sorry, whatever you need, there isn’t enough.” “If only you tried this…”
So, how can we move beyond current paradigm and dispel the illusion? Lynne Twist writes, “It all comes from ‘we’re not whole’—you’re not ok the way you are, you’ve got accumulate and acquire more. And that is a tyranny; it’s not just a misunderstanding, it’s a tyranny… But it takes enormous courage because the whole system is promoting something else, and promoting it from a base of fear. Advertising and marketing give each one of us thousands of messages every day. They tell us that we’re not tall enough, or thin enough, or young enough, or something—enough.”
Here’s the deal: When I see only scarcity, I miss the fact that every single one of us has been gifted with creativity, heart,
love, passion,
gentleness, helpfulness,
caring, kindness,
tenderness and a shoulder to lean on (for crying or for dancing, depending on the mood at the time).
This is the paradigm—and the gift—of Sufficiency.
I get it. If we begin with sufficiency, then perhaps what we “carry in our cup” is not stuff (or things or possessions) but rather opportunities. Opportunities to be generous, big-hearted, kind, human, thoughtful, empathetic and attentive. Opportunities to offer hope. Even if the gifts we give (or the light that shines and spills) comes from a wounded or broken heart.
THURSDAY OCTOBER 16 — One evening, a Cherokee elder is teaching his grandson about life.
“A fight is going on inside me,” he says to the boy. “It can be a persistent and often very draining fight. It is a fight between two wolves. And this battle that goes on between the two wolves is inside every one of us.”
The grandfather continues, “One wolf is Evil. He is bitterness, envy, jealousy, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.
And the other wolf is Good. He is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.”
The grandson thought about it for a minute, and then asks his grandfather: “But which wolf will win?”
Wisely, the grandfather simply smiles, and replies, “The one you feed the most.”
Yes, which takes us back to our weekly theme: how and in what ways do we “fill our cup.”
Let’s be honest. Sometimes it is not easy to make the healthy life-giving—life-filling—choices. Disruption, disarray, disillusionment and sorrow are real, and each can be a part of our lives.
But here’s the deal: they do not get to say how the story ends.
Using the grandfather’s wisdom, which story wins? The one that you feed the most…
One of my favorite scenes in the movie Forrest Gump, is one where Jenny (Forrest’s girlfriend for life) stands in front of a dilapidated house. The house represents years of abuse and disappointment from her childhood. As she faces the demons of her past, she begins to pick up rocks and hurl them—with every scrap of her being—towards the house. She is, possibly for the first time, acknowledging years of anger, pain, hatred and fear. She eventually collapses to the ground and Forrest Gump’s simple commentary is this: “Sometimes there just aren’t enough rocks.”
So. Tell me this… if I get to say how the story ends, how do I move forward?
How do I choose love and compassion and kindness, over anger and hatred?
How do I make space for healing and redemption and reconciliation, over resentment and bitterness?
Growing up, we loved to talk about conversion in our church. Mostly it meant punching my ticket for eternity (staying out of hell). And adherence to a belief system (even if I couldn’t explain it). Here’s what’s interesting. I was never asked how conversion made a difference to my everyday life. I was never asked to be converted (through humility, vulnerability and an open heart) to a more profound humanity. To “place love at the center, the center that holds solid as all around it breaks, the solid place that becomes the fort of what is unbreakable in us and the fulcrum of change.” (Maria Popova)
I like that. Sign me up.
This morning we woke to our first frost for the year here in the PNW. We may be a little behind many of you, but for us, it’s early. Even so, a beautiful sunny day, and I spent a little time chatting with an Anna’s hummingbird, enjoying the tastiness of the garden.
FRIDAY OCTOBER 17 – I love the title of Tim O’Brien’s book, The Things They Carried (about a group of soldiers in Vietnam). The title fits what we’ve been asking this week. “What do we carry—“in our cup”—that provides the foundation to sustain, replenish and nourish our heart and spirit? And what are the values—that we carry—that are our reminders to not lose our way?”
On my desk is a medicine pouch. A gift from a Native American friend. When the Shawnee and Chippewa (and other early people) went on hunts or vision quests or long journeys, each traveler would carry in a small rawhide pouch, various tokens of spiritual power—perhaps a feather, a bit of fur, a claw, a carved root, a pinch of tobacco, a pebble, or a shell. These were not simply magical charms; they were reminders of the energies that sustain all of life. By gathering these talismans into a medicine pouch, the hunter, traveler, or visionary seeker was recollecting the sources of healing and bounty and beauty.
All of it marinated, by the way, in an elixir of humor. Because I do know this; if my pouch is filled with a need for control and answers, I lose lightheartedness, and can easily be seized with frustration, fear, panic, rage, despair, depression, and exasperation. (You get the picture?) Let’s just call it heatstroke of the heart.
But what if? What if… the “tokens” in that pouch are not a magic wand to undo life, but instead, the power and the freedom to embrace the life we have been given and to create life for those around us?
What if… wired to care, we see in this life, this day, even in the very muddle of the ordinary, even in the very chaos, the permission to trust our sufficiency, embrace our wounds as they become sacred wounds, and become places of empathy, compassion, healing? Because grace is alive and well.
“Spirituality means waking up.” (Anthony de Mello reminds us.) To the power of the present moment. There is no doubt that waking up isn’t always cheerful. Or easy. It is, however, worth it.
Because wholehearted people live present, with hearts susceptible and open to tenderness and mercy, human touch and healing. Yes, please, “Just say it again”.
Here’s why my medicine pouch resonates; I need something visceral, incarnational, liturgical. When I hold it, I am, literally, grounded.
Sadly, we cut ourselves little slack. So. This is our reminder that we need invitations to marinate in grace. To remember that the sacred is close by. To see life in fullness, hopefulness, wonder, gratitude, beauty, silence, prayer, connection, and sufficiency. And from this marinade of grace, we embrace our humanity and all that enriches it; empathy, tenderness, inclusion, forgiveness.
We let ourselves spill the light—the light “in our cup”—that we have received, and we give, offer, hold, touch, care, soothe, empathize, and invite sanctuary.
What’s in your medicine pouch this week?
Prayer for our week…
O Great Spirit, our Father from above, your name is sacred and holy.
Bring your good road to us, where the beauty of your ways
in the spirit-world above is reflected in the earth below.
Provide for us day by day — the elk, the buffalo, and the salmon.
The corn, the squash, and the wild rice.
All the things we need for each day.
Release us from the things we have done wrong,
in the same way we release others for the things done wrong to us.
Guide us away from the things that tempt us to stray from your good road.
First Nations Version: An Indigenous Translation of the New Testament
Photo… “Terry, This is a picture of a part of out church Pumpkin Patch, we have been selling pumpkins for 23 years.” Ramona Priest… Thank you Ramona… Thank you for your photos, please send them to tdh@terryhershey.com
