December 2012 Soul and Solace

Creativity/Spirituality, , , , ,

DON’T…give till it hurts

I just finished Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged: an interesting read for a writer/nonprofit director who, as it turns out, works more for love than legal tender. Atlas’s powerful story and philosophy challenges me to think deeply about what I believe and why I believe it. Ayn Rand terms religious leaders “mystics of the spirit” who demand that those who “have” provide for those who “need.” Mystics of the spirit preach sacrifice as superior to happiness.

Is that the message we nonprofits send? When I drive by billboards that prompt us to mark through “be jolly” this holiday season and write in “give to the needy,” I’d say yes. Call me greedy, but I think we can be jolly and generous. Atlas has helped clarify A Spacious Place’s values: what we are and what we are not.

  • First, we honor time, prayer, and creativity as much as financial contributions. Indeed, we’ve functioned for five years doing just that, thanks to our amazing crew of creative volunteers.
  • Second, we’re free-choice fans: we won’t accost people with donation demands as they enter and leave their local pharmacy, or yank on heartstrings with tearful photos of innocents (a practice that disrespects both the photo’s viewers and its subject).
  • Third, we won’t be a black hole of need. I love the story in which Moses asks donations to build the tabernacle and finally begs: “Please stop! You brought more than enough!” Moses articulated the needs for a specific project and then stuck to the plan. Too often nonprofits suck generous people dry by asking support for one project after another. God loves cheerful, not beleaguered, givers.

And there’s the poignant story of the widow’s mite (Mark 12:41-43). I don’t believe religious leaders guilted the woman into “giving till it hurts.” I cannot see Jesus honoring her choice under those circumstances. For whatever reason, the widow chose, as her spiritual practice, to give all she had. And that’s a choice of joy.

We all have need. We all have something to give. This holiday season, A Spacious Place wishes you generosity—and we wish you joy.

What are your thoughts on holiday and charity?

November 2012 Soul and Solace

Creativity/Spirituality, , , , , , , ,

Achilles Heel

It’s an ancient story: warrior Achilles was impervious to attack because Mom dipped toddler Achilles in the River Styx. Problem was—she held him by the heel, leaving that one spot vulnerable. You can guess where a poisoned arrow speared poor Achilles. I have an Achilles Heel, too. For me it’s shame. Apply a dose of “I’m so disappointed in you!” or even a raised eyebrow and a shake of head and I’m convinced I am the lowest, slimiest form of life this side of the primordial ooze. I’ve tried to get rid of my heel, but so far haven’t managed a return trip to the River Styx.

Achilles got himself killed either because he didn’t know about his fragile foot or because he thought: “The rest of me is awesome. How important can a heel be anyway?” So recognizing my vulnerability prompts me to seek out some Kevlar boots. Sometimes I find heel support from another person: for instance, Ayn Rand posited that we feel shame when we accept the values of the person trying to shame us. So I can think, “Oh! You want me to be ashamed I did that. But I don’t accept the premise of your shaming. Keep your values and I’ll live by my own, thank you very much.” Other times I protect my heel by not placing myself at the front of a soul-threatening situation. And, if I am assaulted, I permit myself some needed R&R.

What’s your Achilles Heel? Where is your supply of Kevlar boots?

Top Ten…

Creativity/Spirituality, , , , , , ,

…Reasons to Enroll Your Kid in Our Young Artists Club

  1. Given the right tools, every student can express her/himself through visual art;
  2. You just can’t get too much wonder and beauty;
  3. We meet some weird and wonderful artists;
  4. Messes are strongly encouraged, as long as they’re creative;
  5. Club members get to take a shot at photography;
  6. It’s never too early to start up a lifetime of creativity;
  7. Club members illustrate windows and doors (literally);
  8. Winner only. No losers here;
  9. Tasty snacks;
  10. If you paint it, we will frame;
  11. We have a blast creating (but clearly we need tutoring in counting).

Top Ten…

Creativity/Spirituality, , , , , ,

…Reasons to Enroll Your Kid in Our Young Writers Club

  1. With the right tools, every student can express him/herself in writing;
  2. We have tasty snacks;
  3. Strong writing skills are beneficial in most vocations;
  4. Club members get monthly “tips” from our tip jar;
  5. We have a rockin’ acronym (and you can come to a YWC meeting and find out just what that means);
  6. Free readings from works by awesome authors (we suggest an ear cleaning before meetings for best clarity);
  7. Choices, choices, and more choices;
  8. Club members get to write on windows and doors—no kiddin!;
  9. Each member gets a crack at being Caesar for a Day;
  10. We have a blast;
  11. —and we believe in your student. (Okay, that wasn’t just ten; we’re not the Young Math Club.)

October 2012 Soul and Solace

Creativity/Spirituality, , , , , ,

Walking With Open Hands

As morning dawns, my husband is ill, my daughters struggle on their educational journeys, our small business is gasping after yet another setback, and I’ve received a couple of terse emails reminding me that I’m a back-burner priority. I start the morning, and the week, depleted.

Lacing up my shoes, I take myself on a walk in the bright cold of morning. Thought after thought—of what was, what is, what might be—ravages each step. I’ve never related to “live in the moment” adages: as a sentient being, given both memory and vision, I choose to live fully in all times given me. So past, present, and future travel with me on my walk.

At one particularly troubling thought, I find I had opened my hands. When my exposed palms meet the chill of morning, a thrill—of both loss and relief—passes through me. After that, I determinedly open my hands to thought after racing thought: releasing my pain into the cold, hard, light of morning. The practice of opening my hands doesn’t “fix” anything. I still hurt. But there’s a cleanness and a connection in the pain. I remember that it’s all part of Something. I recall what is mine to carry and what is not.

This month, I will walk with open hands.

How do you live with pain and uncertainty?

Sept 2012 Soul and Solace

Creativity/Spirituality, , , , , ,

Key 2 Violence Project

Our August e-newsletter introduced our proposed “Key 2 Violence” project. The project invites persons who have experienced violence to respond by first naming its impact on their lives, and then transforming violence through creativity. Learn more by viewing the photos on our website or Facebook page.

We will supply materials for visual, written, and performance arts so interested persons and groups may choose from an array of creative possibilities. If you have suggestions of groups that might benefit from Key 2 Violence email kaye@aspaciousplace.com.

August 2012 Soul and Solace

Creativity/Spirituality, , , ,

Key 2 Violence

Last fall, my husband, David, pulled our car into a lane in front of another car. The driver began tailing us, blowing her horn repeatedly. A glimpse in the side-view mirror revealed a face convulsed in rage and, beside her, a small boy’s fearful expression. She continued tailing us, horn blowing, until we turned into our grocery-story parking lot. Then she circled the lot until she found a space directly across from ours. As we entered the store, we turned to see her exit her car and walk along the driver’s side of our car. When we returned to our car, we found a long gash that traversed the driver’s side from the passenger door to the front of the car. The woman had keyed our car.

I felt sick looking at it. And for months afterward, when my eyes fell on that gash, my gut relived the event again. Why did she do it? Did she think David intentionally cut her off? Did she want something from us that we failed to provide? How was the child who was riding with her?

What to do? How to respond?

Touch-up paint would only cover up the gash and I wanted to transform it. So I bought enamel paint in a range of colors. Starting at the base of the gash, I painted a branch and, sprouting from that branch, leaves. Then I stenciled our mascot, the Spacious Dude, all around the branch like blossoms growing from the tree. Last week, I invited our campers to choose Spacious Dudes and transform them into representations of themselves. Today, the branch sports a host of colorful blossoms. It’s funky and, I think, beautiful.

And I’m not done yet: I’ll add our name, and we’re thinking of going onto the roof with clouds and some flying Dudes. I’d like other A Spacious Place members to be part of our “car art.”

What has the experience taught me? That violence is a reality: we all have the capacity for it. Hiding from that fact merely stunts our growth—to stay with the branch metaphor. But we can allow ourselves to feel the consequences (potential or real) of violence, and then find a way to transform it: be it through a sit-in, a march, a comedy routine, a poem—or a painted car.

July 2012 Soul and Solace

Creativity/Spirituality, , , , ,

Waxing Poetic

During the past year, our young writers have penned haikus, diamante poems, limericks, and acrostic poems. Summer’s a great time to wax poetic. Whether we capture a moment in haiku or run the word “fireworks” down a page and choose a descriptor for each letter, poetry is an art form that’s available to us all. Poetry challenges us to attend with all our senses. When we do, we can surprise ourselves with the beauty that flows through us.

Have a poem to share? We’d love to read it!

June 2012 Soul and Solace

Creativity/Spirituality, , , , , ,

Resurrection Plant

In the deserts of Texas grows a plant that spreads across moist ground to absorb as much water as possible and then curls into a tight-fisted ball in dry seasons to protect its life-giving moisture. It can remain so for years and, with the first fall of rain, spread out good as new. It’s called a Resurrection Plant. Cool, huh?

This isn’t about that.

For me, the prickly pear cactus is a resurrection plant. Also a resident of the Texas desert, the prickly pear’s paddle-shaped pad sports spines ranging in size from sewing needle to serious hypodermic. They look like death a good deal of the time: like they’re down to skin and skeleton. That’s most of the time. Because in the spring those skeletal paddles with the lethal-looking spines gather up all the creative juice left in them and push out a flower: a flower so bright yellow it’s ridiculous, with pedals so tissue thin it makes you want to cry.

Resurrection ought to surprise. It ought to burst on our vision, take our breath away, and make our world spin backwards. That’s what the prickly pear does when it flowers. That’s why it’s my resurrection plant.

What looks and feels like resurrection to you?