Tag Archives: Soul & Solace

Soul & Solace: Gessoing

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Last month, I embarked on the lengthy process of rendering our Rock Penguins in wood. Yes, that’s Rock, not Rockhopper (well, mostly). Let me clarify.
 
One holiday season years ago, friends gave us a train display for our yard. Our daughters had the awesome idea of creating an Ozzie Osborne penguin to engineer that “Crazy Train.” Being constructed of cardboard, the train lasted only one season of Texas holiday weather, but Ozzie, painted on foamboard and sealed in adhesive plastic, lived on. He looked lonely, so we created him some friends. Rock friends, to be precise (and some are rockhoppers, as well).
 
First Chuck Berry joined the festivities, followed by Joan Jett, George Michael, David Bowie (aka Ziggy Stardust), Tina Turner, Freddie Mercury, and last year’s addition, Dolly Parton. But, even in their adhesive shields, our Antarctic friends began to show wear. Chuck’s guitar bled onto his arm, David’s head hung in a permanent bow, Tina’s feet in striking gold heels turned at the ankle. Our penguin friends began to take on a decidedly Halloween look.
 
We recently acquired a power saw and I saw—pun intended—my husband’s eyes light up in a way that astonished me. To my surprise, I had a Tool Time husband! I thought, why not recreate our Rock Star Penguins in sturdy wood, using paints intended for the great out of doors? We can repaint as needed, because they won’t need plastic adhesive shielding.
 
Emboldened by the idea and recognizing the enormity of the task, we journeyed to our home improvement store, purchased three sheets of four-by-eight plywood, had it cut into fourths, and motored home with possibilities bouncing in the bed of our truck. We toted the boards inside; I covered tables and floor with plastic; and we laid the wood out for Step 1. That’s when I got out the bucket of gesso.
 
Gesso, if the term is new for you, is pronounced with a soft “g,” as if we were a j: Jesso. Gesso is used to seal surfaces for painting: on a gessoed surface, the paint stays bright and doesn’t seep in. Fun Fact: Applying two coats of gesso, front and back, to large boards tucked into every inch of a home’s table and floor space is two things: boring and hard. It is possible that Pelaton might use the necessary moves to create a new workout video. The brush dragged along the wood; I ran out of Gesso and had to procure more; my back ached.


Kicking my thoroughly gessoed self, I thought, what a waste of money and time. But, we’d made the investment, so I might as well get on with it. Besides, the old penguins deserved to be thanked for their service and laid respectfully to rest.
 
Today, the gessoing is done. Looking at the boards, fresh painted with promise, I’m again feeling that sense of wonder and hope. I don’t know how long this project will take or how inconvenient it may be. Still, I want to do it. I hope to provide a smile to our neighbors during a pandemic that just won’t quit. I want to give my husband an opportunity to be Mr. Tool Time. I want my daughters to come home to a holiday welcoming committee straight from the rock stages of Antarctica.
 
Sometimes to get to joy, we first have to gesso.
 
What, for you, is gessoing? What helps you stay with it to the joy? Share your Soul & Solace thoughts with us at contact@aspaciousplace.com.

Soul & Solace April 2018

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Wax On…

Sometimes faith is like the Karate Kid. We’re trapped in the middle—wax on wax off, paint the fence—without any sense of purpose or outcome. Are we being played? Used? What’s the point of all this, anyway?

When we’re sweating in the dark, a faith of cute baby angels and “smile, God loves you” just won’t cut it. In these seasons I find myself resentful, confused, fear filled. What is faith in such times? How do we keep on waxing and painting?

  1. We clarify. Painful as they are, paint-the-fence times provide a chance to get clear. What really matters to me? Really matters enough to risk my safety and security? Dr. Martin Luther King did not intend to preach his “Mountaintop Sermon.” With his life was in danger, and he had no plans to attend the gathering in which he uttered those potent words. But when invited, he came. As he speaks, we see him gain courage and clarity. Dr. King was killed shortly after preaching his Mountaintop Sermon. What he died for lives on.
  2. We act. In attending to those tasks which relate to our highest value we apply wax where it is needed. We act in faith, no matter how we feel. And in the acting, we gain soul muscle. A caution: we can over-function during waxing times, believing we’ve somehow fallen short of expectations and more effort will fix things. And that’s where Point Three comes in.
  3. We care for ourselves. Imagine a child enduring a painful season. Would we berate the child with “should haves” or heap on extra chores? Instead, we’d say “whatever you are feeling is okay; I’m here for you.” Enduring these seasons is grueling. Let’s be good to ourselves.
  4. We remember Miyagi. Why does God allow some things that happen—or not happen? It seems to unjust. Uncaring. Recalling God’s daily gifts of creation beauty, love of family and friends, good food, and cleansing water helps us give God the benefit of the doubt. Mr. Miyagi, it turned out, had a good purpose in all those chores.

How do you hang on during trying times? What, for you, is faith? We’d love to read your thoughts.

Soul & Solace March 2018

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Sailing to the North Star

Wherever we are our faith voyage, contemplating who we are now and who we hope to be provides us a North Star. But what about all that stuff that impedes our sailing?

As we consider what flotsam and jetsam need to be cleared away, it’s tempting to drop anchor and stare dismally at all our floating crud. Though the point is the voyage, not the impediments, it’s easy to get trapped berating ourselves for our crud. Is there any source of help when we’re weighed down with regret?

There is: and it’s all around us. H2O. Good old water.

This month, we invite you to refresh yourself with God’s gift of H2O. Possibilities are

  • Take a sip. Pour water into a clear glass and notice its clarity. Sip and let the water sit on your tongue. Swallow and envision the water replenishing your tissues and hydrating your skin.
  • Take a shower or bath. As the water cleanses, notice how it also refreshes. Cool water invigorates; warm water soothes. Soak it in. Literally.
  • Perk up a plant. Water a house plant, garden, or lawn. Note how droplets sit on leaves and petals, magnifying their structures: a universe revealed within a single droplet.
  • Do the dishes. It’s a homely and wholesome practice to occasionally wash dishes by hand. Life is often nebulous and confusing. Transforming a grimy plate into one sparkling clean and stacking it away for use another time—that’s a soul metaphor we can all appreciate.

Water is a treasure available (for now) in abundance. This month we hope you let it work its restorative magic in your soul. Water smooths our sailing, wherever our soul may voyage.

How do you move through guilt on your soul voyage? We’d love to read your thoughts.

Soul & Solace February 2018

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Getting Down and Getting Real

A well-intentioned speaker recently promoted volunteerism as a cure for depression. As a person who has, throughout my lifetime, struggled with what Winston Churchill called “the black dog,” and who volunteers regularly, I wanted to offer a different perspective: the possibility of living with depression as spiritual practice. And the same goes for volunteering.

Depression. Depression does not represent a lack of strength or a flaw of character. It’s a treatable condition. One that some pretty awesome people have shared, including Winston Churchill, Martin Luther, John Bunyan, and Howard Butt—founder of the HEB grocery chain and Laity Lodge. And, while potentially devastating, depression can actually be an opportunity. We learn to know ourselves deeply, to practice self-care, and to accept others’ in their woundedness. I would be pleased to visit with you further about the challenge of depression, if you wish.

Volunteering. How can volunteering be a spiritual practice? We can…

  • Stand in another’s shoes. Imagine living through a day as a person with whom you volunteer. If that person is in a wheelchair, how does he get to appointments? How does she prepare meals or practice good hygiene? What does the world look like from his eye level?
  • Get real. Actually loving someone—when they’re cranky or despondent or ungrateful—challenges us to clear away our rose-colored glasses version of what it means to love. Acting for the good of another takes (and promotes) clear spiritual vision.
  • Pre-feed our souls. Volunteering can taste great for the volunteer. But if that’s our sole reason for volunteering, we’re out the minute the cuisine goes stale. And where does that leave the person we’re volunteering with? Instead, we feed our souls before volunteering (because we all need and deserve it), then share from the abundance.
  • Connect face to face. Looking a person in the eye, listening with our full attention is a powerful gift. Fair warning: it also makes us vulnerable. But seeing another—and being seen by another— reminds us that we’re all human and we’re all connected.

What are your thoughts on depression? On volunteering? We’d love to read your thoughts.

Soul & Solace January 2018

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It’s a fresh year. We’ve begun it here in Austin with a snapping chill in the air—and with flurries of snow. The days are shorter, the nights longer. Perfect for reflection and anticipation.

My new year’s reflections landed on a snippet of a psalm: “I will solve my riddle to the music of a harp (Ps. 49:2).” The line struck me like a gust of winter wind. “Yes!” I said through chattering teeth: “That’s why A Spacious Place exists. It’s our hope for each person!” So, with our best hopes for you in 2018, here are some ideas for your soul’s riddle solving.

  • Ask. What question presses on your soul as you begin 2018? You might have a whole fleet of questions. Flesh them out in the shape of written words. Look at what you’ve written: these are the riddles of your soul. They’re yours to solve—in tandem with your highest allegiance. Take a long, pondering look.
  • Create. Once you’ve fleshed out your riddles(s), apply a bracing dose of creativity. Harp music was the natural expression for our psalmist. Writing’s my native tongue: longhand with a pen whose ink flows onto the page. Yours might be sewing or painting or cooking or doodling. Find what works for you. Then paint or plant or plait your riddle. Let your creative work ask the hard questions. Honesty’s the only way to solve your soul riddle.
  • Wait. Last, give yourself some grace and your puzzling some time. Riddle solving’s a process: processes take a while. You may greet 2019 still puzzling this one out. But, once you’ve set your riddle to a tune uniquely yours, you’ll be attuned to its solving throughout the year: as the days grow longer and warmer, and then snap back to bracing cold.

The delight of a riddle is in the work of its solving. We, at A Spacious Place, wish for you in 2018 a year such challenge and eventual delight.

How do you solve the riddle of your soul? We’d love to read your thoughts.

Soul & Solace: Hardship’s Crucible

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Hardship, aka tough times, aka One Big Mess. Whatever we call it, a time of trial can work like a crucible. We get tossed in the beaker with a variety of volatile ingredients, the fire’s laid on, and things start churning and bubbling. In time, the dross burns away, and we’re left with the precipitated amalgam: potentially stronger, cleaner, and clarified. In other words, hardship, blast it!, can show us who we are and what we value.

A recent leadership change in our daughter’s liberal arts college elicited a major policy change. Graduate students found themselves tossed into hardship’s crucible. It’s been a fiery trial, especially for young people living in near poverty and working/studying 24/7. Below is Arielle’s post, written in the crucible. I share it because 1) the piece reflects A Spacious Place’s values applied in a real-world situation; 2) the piece demonstrates the power of creative and reflective thought, thus demonstrating the importance of arts and soul education; and 3) I’m mighty proud of her.

Just one last word before Arielle’s piece. We have a single task in a crucible time: to remain in the beaker till the flame has done its work. A few screams are not only to be expected—they may well be efficacious.

From Arielle McKee’s Facebook Post
I have been struggling for some time with how to put words around recent events at my university, and have finally come to this (and it is the best I can do at this moment):

The liberal arts matter exactly as much as the other colleges at ours and other universities, just as each component discipline is just as necessary and valuable as the next. Education is not, it cannot be about dollar value, deliverables, or ambiguous innovations. Nor is education a business; indeed, to measure the “success” of an education in such terms is to not only fundamentally misunderstand education’s power and purpose, but to effectively hinder, and at times even to thwart, an educator or educational institution’s ability to challenge and nurture well-rounded, creative, and critical thinkers. Thinkers who can change the world for the better.

In CLA we are trained to ask questions and to critically examine the world; it is our duty as scholars and as humans to query received narratives and to use our training to imagine new, creative solutions. Not a single one of us should be a tradeoff; we are people with lives and dreams and voices, and we are stronger together. We are stronger because, if we value each other and each other’s work–refusing to accept that any one person is worth less than any other–then we will finally have between us a staggering force for radical change. As liberal arts scholars, our particular call is to imagine and create alternatives, rather than to accept the limits we are told to hold to–particularly when those limits harm or devalue another human life.

I find myself lucky enough to work alongside friends and colleagues who believe in and will bravely fight for our education and for the education of our students and fellows. I am continually in awe of the bright and compassionate hearts and minds I see around me. To me you truly embody what the Liberal Arts are and should be, and I am proud to know you.

July 2013 Soul and Solace

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Funk & Foul Ups

Our “Crazy Dreams” Creativity Camp has me thinking… We’ll explore the lives of folks who changed the world in myriad ways: politics, visual arts, music, literature, computing. Some of these crazy dreamers had harsh life experiences. All made their fair share of foul ups.

So before I encourage our campers to accept themselves, warts and all, I’ll try to do the same. I’ll remind myself that I was not put here to fly serenely above all life’s messiness. I’m here to dig in, which means I’ll get messy, and sometimes I’ll make a mess.

Cornell West calls the messiness of life “funk.” I’m covered in funk most of the time. And messy as it is, painful as it is, I’ll take it to soaring unscathed above the funk. Funk is primordial ooze of creativity; funk is life. So I’ll challenge our campers to dream crazy big, and then then to dig in and live their dreams. ‘Cause that’s what crazy dreamers do.

What are your thoughts on funk and foul ups? Share your insights.

May 2013 Soul and Solace

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Gardens & Choices

Much like the story our Young Writers will explore this month, my husband and I started this weekend to resurrect our long-neglected garden. We tilled, we hauled and set limestone blocks, we laid out landscape fabric, we spread mulch. We also engaged in tug-of-war with some mighty determined roots. But it’s not a garden yet; it’s a garden plot. Now we choose: Tomatoes? Okra? Peppers? Garlic?

Gardens, it seems, are all about choice. We chose veggies over the plants that had homesteaded in the space; we’ll choose tomatoes instead of celery. We’ll say “no” to this, so we can say “yes” to that. And through our choices, blended with the magic elixir of sun, showers, soil, and sweat, we’ll grow a garden.

Saying no feels like bad manners, especially if you’ve been raised to be a “nice girl.” But saying no to what is not me clears a space for me to say yes to what is. So this month, I’ll also be tending my soul garden: uprooting what does not provide good nourishment, so I can plant what will thrive in my soul’s soil. Tomatoes, anyone?

How do you choose between no and yes? How do you tend your soul garden? Share your thoughts.

April 2013 Soul and Solace

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ReWriting Our Lives

At present, I’m editing a book published in 2006 for republishing. It’s painful: did I really write THAT? It’s instructive: I’m in such a different place now.

Once we reach adulthood, it’s generally understood that we’ve arrived. Time to sit down and stay put. But reading my writings from years past, I see movement. Once, a seminary professor gave our class an exercise. “Divide your life into decades. Give each decade a chapter title. Then, with each passing decade, revisit your life story and retitle as needed.” As our life lengthens, as we move along, even past events take on a different perspective. They gain new meaning.

Our present constantly rewrites our past and moves us into the future. If we’re awake, if we’re attuned to ourselves and to what is occurring around us, we head somewhere. There’s no need to expect to be who we were ten years ago—or even ten minutes ago: no need to picture our adult selves as spiritual couch potatoes.

How have you changed? How might you write and rewrite your life as you move into the future? Share your thoughts.

March 2013 Soul and Solace

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Numbness Cure

We’ve seen the word, heard the word, said the word, felt the word so much that our natural defense mechanisms seek to sap us of feeling. After all, we can only feel horrified for so long before we go numb. Unless we act. And that’s our invitation to you this month.

Whether it’s someone elbowing in front of us in the check-out lane, giving us the one-finger salute, or opening fire on a crowd, violence tears at the fabric of creation. Some acts make small rips, others open gaping gashes. Each one destroys. Each one matters.

What can we do to make a difference—for ourselves or for others? We can take violence seriously, ponder its consequences—potential or real—and then roll up our sleeves and get busy creating. With creativity as our needle and love as our thread, we can stitch beauty into the tears made by violence. We won’t erase them—Jesus still bears His scars—but we will transform them. The smallest act of love and creativity bears more power than any act of violence.

So whether it’s penning a loving letter or email to a friend, planting flowers for others to enjoy, singing in the shower, or baking some cookies, the creative act bears meaning and merit, centering us and restoring our hope. Share your thoughts about violence, love, and creativity .