By Sharon Wada In the midst of a social landscape shaped by a covid-19 pandemic, political unrest and continued racial inequity, I find soul rest when someone offers me the gift of “holding space.” What do I mean by “holding space?” Author Heather Plett defines it as “the practice of compassionately witnessing, accepting and supporting someone without judgement, while retaining your boundaries and sense of self.” (The Art of Holding Space, 2020). I find it divinely timely that her book was published in early 2020. For all that we would face and still face, a safe place where someone holds space for another is a soothing balm. It’s a space to be listened to, where one is free to tell one’s story. It is a space where one’s experience, along with its interpretation, gets to occupy center stage. No one tries to talk you out of your views and perceptions. What you say may not resonate with your listener, nor even be intellectually understood, but that doesn’t matter. The listener becomes a conduit of God’s grace, where one feels seen, heard and loved. Prior to 2020, in my collegial circles of spiritual directors, I had heard and used the term, “holding space.” It seemed to be a given that holding space is what spiritual directors are supposed to do. My spiritual director modelled it. It is my intention to do the same with those who come to me for spiritual direction. As the 2020’s decade continues to unfold, it feels all the more impactful and grace-filled to engage the art of holding space. We can do so as spiritual directors. We can do so when we find ourselves in the role of compassionate listener, wherever we may be. When we find ourselves listening to someone whose ethnic heritage and racial history differs from our own, holding space may take a little more effort. It starts to feel like the art would be greatly helped by adding learned skill. We can educate ourselves. We can grow our capacity for self-awareness and emotional regulation. We can choose to set aside our own perspectives so that we can offer a compassionate, listening presence. Spiritual director instructor and author, Cindy S. Lee teaches that we can learn to “de-center” ourselves and become mindful that we have been brought up to assume there is some set of “norms” out in the world, which makes everything else deviant. When we truly hold space for another, we de-center ourselves. We welcome the stories we hear with grace. We offer true soul hospitality. Such a gift. Are there people that come to your mind who have offered you this gift? Anyone you’d like to offer the gift of holding space to? What might be an invitation to add a little skill development the art of holding space? By Brooke Maffia Wang A huge smile lit up my face when Brene Brown introduced Esther Perel on the podcast that cycled onto my car speakers. Two of my favorites. It was a fantastic conversation. However, after I noticed envy and comparison begin to nag at me a bit. When I hear skilled people doing things they love that are big and spectacular I can sometimes wonder, “What am I doing? Does compassionate listening with people really make any kind of difference?” It would be highly inappropriate, not to mention unethical, to make a podcast out of spiritual direction sessions. Although, I do love the idea of one off conversations with a spiritual director that others could listen to— if for no other reason but to help give people a felt understanding of the experience. As well as not being understood by many, within the history of the church spiritual direction has a bit of a dark past. This life-giving supportive ministry was lost to some for many years. Today it can be confused with mentoring or discipleship, both fantastic ministries— just different than spiritual direction. Here at the CCSV we believe: Spiritual direction is a form of holy listening and attending to the Spirit of God in daily life. It is an intentional relationship where a trained listener companions with another along the spiritual journey. It is a unique relationship between Director, Directee, and God. Like with anything there is a wide range of abilities, training and skill of spiritual directors. Unfortunately, there are people who hold the title of without living the ethical practice. One reason we exist at the CCSV is to offer a quality of care in this unregulated field. We believe ongoing supervision and personal direction is non-negotiable to those offering spiritual direction-- no matter how many directee’s we have or how long we’ve been practicing. We are forever learners. What we do as spiritual directors is not big and spectacular. It is slow, deep and hidden. It promotes more of God, and less of the director. The envy and comparison the podcast evoked offer me a great opportunity to make an appointment with my supervisor. But, it cannot take away what I know deep in my bones-- that the tender life changing shifts I witness in people souls that bring healing and freedom are no less valuable because they are not seen or heard by the masses. The honor and privilege I feel to sit with others in these vulnerable places is palpable. And, I'm crazy enough to believe that this work of deep compassionate listening is essential for our country and our world to heal and move forward. If you have never tried spiritual direction before, I invite you to reach out to one of our directors. If you had an experience that wasn’t optimal or in a season of life that could be supported by this ministry I invite you to consider trying again. If you are a spiritual director and are looking for support and community along the way I invite you to keep learning with us. by Barbara Milligan Almost three years ago I discovered a spiritual practice by accident. Pickleball. I hadn’t started playing it as a spiritual practice. The pickleball court is not where I go to slow down and connect with that calm center inside me. Like most sports, pickleball is ferociously competitive. And competition doesn’t seem very holy. I’m trying to beat my opponents, not help them win or make the world a kinder place. And rather than focus on a sacred word, phrase, or image, I’m focusing on a plastic ball full of holes, which I’m trying to hit over the net and inside the court at my opponents’ feet or at a spot they can’t run to fast enough. How spiritually formational is that? At some point I discovered, however, that playing pickleball was forming in me a healthy humility I didn’t know I needed or wanted. I’m a little embarrassed when I can’t control the ball and everyone sees my mistakes. I hit the ball into the net repeatedly. I swat air. I freeze as the ball bounces past me. But so do the other players in my group—some less often than others if they’re former tennis players. So I’m feeling less alone. Instead of shaming each other, we build each other up by laughing at ourselves or by shouting, often to an opponent, “Great serve!” or, “It was the wind,” or, “Good try! You would have had to lie down to return that one.” I’m reminded, every time I play, that I’m human, that I have limits, and that much of life is beyond my control. I’m reminded also that I’m deeply loved by the One who created me with limits and that I can connect with that Love wherever I am. Even on a pickleball court. And maybe it wasn’t so accidental after all. What accidental spiritual practice have you discovered? Can you describe how it’s forming you? Or, how might you turn one of your present activities into a spiritual practice? By Jim Peterson “In the gift of this new day Let us be attentive Let us be open to what has never been before.” Excerpt from a prayer of John Phillip Newell There is the kind of attentiveness we all use unconsciously to engage with the usually familiar tasks of the day and respond to the challenges that may arise. It is the way of habit and allows for a kind of efficiency in life. Yet there is far more to life and a key to this is deep attention – looking for what is deeper, what lies underneath, what is seen with the eyes of the heart – ultimately looking for the mystery we call God. This is the attentiveness that uncovers meaning, cultivates wisdom, and fosters genuine relationships. This kind of attention requires that we waken from the slumber of our habitual lives, that we become intentional about our attention. How often do we pass by a flower and not really see it? Or take a bite of a meal and not really taste it? Or walk past a disheveled person on the street and not really recognize her as human? How often do we miss the image of the Divine in all these things? Take a moment now in your familiar place to look around with openness to what you have never seen before: What do you notice? What stirs you? What invitation arises? What wonderment? We mostly attend to the surface details of our lives, and this is necessary to navigate ordinary activities. The invitation of deep attention, however, is to really see the Real that lies beneath, that permeates everything, that is the ground that forms the basis of our lives, or the ocean in which we swim and that bears us up. On a retreat I once spent 45 minutes gazing at a large beach rock protruding from the sands. My retreat assignment was just to pay attention without any preconceptions or expectations. First my mind engaged, then my emotions – I got bored with thinking about it! After a time of emptiness my heart expanded, clock time shifted to perceiving eons all at once, and an awareness of significance arose even in the rock before me. In the end, as I left, I discovered that compassion for creation and its creatures had been sparked and I found myself rescuing a salamander that had strayed onto a dry path and was languishing. What experience can you remember that revealed the “more” to you or touched you deeply because you paid attention? One way we avoid paying deep attention is by labeling what we notice. Once we do that, we think we have understood what we have seen, and pass on to the next thing that comes into view. But to label – useful as that can be – is also to limit. It keeps us from seeing what is really there. Our curiosity is stunted along with our sense of wonder and exploration. Deep listening is supported by a trust in what is unseen in the normal sense. When we pay attention deeply, we discover that we are mysteriously addressed in some way, as I was by the beach rock. We get in touch with what matters more or even most. The sources that we draw on for life show themselves. Meaning becomes clearer. And we become more alive. The risk – and the reward – of paying attention is that you will be touched, changed, opened to something new, and you will be spurred to let go of old ways and habits that served before but no longer do. This can be scary but is also the cost of moving forward on the journey of life. To what are you called to pay attention to in the gift of this new day? By Eleanor Mendoza Whitney Great storms have passed through our local hills, and in their wake they have left mud, fallen branches and general mess. Walking the paths is a bit more challenging, but as the puddles begin to dry, in the dark, damp earth I notice budding wild mushrooms. They are everywhere! They make funny shapes as they squeeze close together under trees and stretch out in large clumps. Did you know that mushrooms are only the fruit of a great underground network of fungus mycelium (tiny threads)? The real “body” of the fungus stays under the ground, weaving and building, until the circumstances are just right up above the dirt and then – mushrooms! Lately, I have had the honor to do some teaching in a spiritual direction training program. Seeing eager students ready to try new skills of listening, reflecting and discerning reminded me of my time in seminary. It also reminded me that I didn’t arrive at seminary (or at any given day) without a mycelium-like network of loving people guiding and nourishing me. They encouraged me and showed me the way. They taught me that I could do more than I thought I could do. Like the mushrooms, much of their support was invisible and my life would not be the same without them. Who has done that for you? Who educated you in a way that gave you direction in your life? Perhaps they taught you a skill or perhaps you simply learned from their way of being. Maybe you didn’t notice it, but at some point, you could see the effect or “fruit” of their presence in your life. Around my hills, the winter rains will soon give way to summer sun and the mushrooms will disappear. Yet their fungal network will continue operating beneath the surface, waiting for the next opportunity to “mushroom.” In your own life, could there be an invitation for you to reach out to some of those who have taught you and say, “thank you”? |
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