Tag Archives: Soul & Solace

February 2013 Soul and Solace

Creativity/Spirituality, , , , , ,

True North

February is a study in contrasts. In Austin, February’s the month most likely to bring sleet, snow, and sweat—often within the same week. We celebrate Valentine’s Day: balloons, hearts, and bouquets, and Christians observe Lent: silence, reflection, and confession.

By February we’ve had time to get real about those new year’s resolutions we made. What are we really determined to do? Where are we headed? Charles Kimball’s book, When Religion Becomes Evil, encourages readers to think of their life’s journey in terms of a compass, rather than a map. In other words, instead of seeking what specific turns and highways we’re supposed to take, we determine our highest value and, when faced with a decision, make the choice that points us true north.

I can’t control what comes into my life; I can determine my response to it. I can seek to face Godward. When I take a wrong turn, all I have to do is realize it, turn around, and continue north.

So in this month of contrasts, I’m seeking to face Godward, journey true north, and just see where it takes me. What is your true north? What metaphor(s) inform your life choices? We’d love to hear your thoughts.

January 2013 Soul and Solace

Creativity/Spirituality, , , , , , ,

God Magic

Into a season of expectancy and joy intruded an act of devastating violence. What can we, small and distant as we are, do for the parents, the brothers, the sisters, the friends and fellow teachers, the bewildered student survivors of Sandy Hook Elementary?

A Spacious Place takes violence and its consequences seriously. What happened in Connecticut will forever change lives in that community, but also, the very fabric of the universe. We also believe creativity and love bear a deeper, more powerful magic than violence. So we invite you to join us in taking these people into our hearts and placing them in God’s hands (to paraphrase of Madeleine L’Engle’s definition of prayer).

Our Ramah Faith site was created in response to an event which has come to be called the Slaughter of the Innocents (Matthew 2:1-18). Leading up to the anniversary of the nativity celebration, we witnessed the aftermath of a second Slaughter of Innocents.

Our invitation? Begin the new year by putting your powerful magic to work. Read the news stories of those who died—including those who died seeking to shield children—and those who mourn them, then create a prayer—be it a word, a sentence, a poem, a drawing, a photo, or whatever else your faith and your faith tradition prompts you to offer. Email us your prayer (contact@aspaciousplace.com) to post on the Ramah Faith site (www.ramahfaith.com) alongside other responders, thus forming a potent circle of God magic.

They have asked for prayer; let us answer. While our prayers will not minimize or erase what has happened, they will flood a devastated community with love. And that is a needful thing, for, in the end, love alone has muscle enough to bear us up through tragedy.

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?

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?

April 2012 Soul and Solace

Creativity/Spirituality, , ,

The Beauty of Scars

I’m told that, when I was younger than my remembering, I fell, knocked over a catsup bottle, and landed on its shards. I carry the crescent-shaped scar on my elbow to this day. I can’t imagine my body without it; it’s become a part of who I am.

Yet I’d always had a notion that emotional or spiritual healing would leave me looking good as new, with baby-fresh skin and a just-bathed, no-more-tears innocence. It hasn’t been like that.

I don’t think it’s in the nature of the universe to work on the “Etch-A-Sketch” principle. We can’t give ourselves a shake and erase scars imprinted on our souls. Creation’s just too real to be undone.

Instead, we can choose to let our scars weave their way into creation’s fabric—often by accompanying another: one with fresher, rawer scars. When we do, we find in our scars a new kind of beauty: the beauty of Jacob’s limp and of Jesus’ wrists and side.

What is your experience of scars? Have you found beauty in them?