"Kickin' this stone..."

"Kickin' this Stone
kickin' this Stone…
kickin' these blues out into the open light
where moss can't grow…

…Kickin' this stone
Down this long highway
All across the countless miles
From the cradle to the grave
Past all my mistakes
With all their guilt and shame
Through the gentle rain of tears
Sweet forgiveness came…"
-     Johnsmith

I love church…especially the Wednesday evening tradition of my own faith.  I am never too inspired, too peaceful, too sure of my own spiritual ground to not have it bless me in unexpected ways. 

I have learned that if I leave all my costumes, roles and titles out on the sidewalk, and just enter the door with a hungry heart…I leave fed.

Last night was no exception…and the blessing was so surprisingly BIG.  The inspirational readings were on "opinion."  Our little group meets in a storefront on a wonderful walking neighborhood street full of shops and restaurants and coffeehouses. So we place a sandwich board out on the sidewalk.  It lists the theme of our meeting and invites everyone to feel welcome.  When my husband saw the sign last night, he initially thought it said that the meeting was going to be about "onions"…thank goodness he was wrong.

The readings were strong and compassionate.  The impotence of opinions rang through every citation.  I could easily nod my head in agreement.  Mary Baker Eddy says, "…mere opinion is valueless." I concur.  But as much as I agreed with where the readings and hymns took us, I felt like crying…church often does this to me. 

It was so easy for me to see that this spiritual premise about the valueless-ness of opinion is true.  I can readily accept that any mere opinion about someone or something is absolutely valueless to me as a spiritual thinker.  So why was this message stirring up so much sadness in me? 

As I probed around in the darkness while sitting quietly in our small congregational circle, I came upon the stone that was gathering moss in my heart.  It wasn't my opinion of others - or others' opinions about me - that made me heartsick.  It was my opinions about myself.  I realized that I had entertained opinions about my own mistakes and choices that left me filled with quiet regret and remorse. 

I sat there and wondered if those feelings would ever abate, when I heard a young college professor and research scientist begin to speak about a recent healing he had experienced.  I heard him say, "people often think that science is about proving something, but science is about disproving a hypothesis…and it only takes disproving it once to prove that it is not scientifically true."  He went on to explain that if something is scientifically true, it must be true EVERY time. So if it can be disproved even once, it is not really true.

This sent a shockwave through the dark places of self-doubt I had been wandering around in.  I was wallowing in a space where I was sure I could easily spend the rest of my life trying to prove that the bad opinions I held of myself were not true... that I would have to prove in hundreds of thousands of different ways that I was not a bad mother, a negligent sister, a forgetful friend, a less than perfect wife.  But I suddenly saw that each time I WAS a good mother, an attentive sister, an alert friend, a compassionate neighbor, a good wife, I had disproved those false opinions I had harbored in the dark regions of my heart and stubbed my toe on. 

I could kick them into the light and let them be good and precious stones…cleansed by tears, bleached by the sun, strong and ready to use for building a better view of myself...a foundation strong and sure.

It only takes one act of kindness, fidelity, attentiveness, patience, humility to disprove the validity of false opinions about ourselves...and others.   It's good to be a scientist.  To be Christian in my practice of this Science - even with myself - is heavenly.

You can see why I love church…

Gratefully,
Kate

"and may Thy Word..."

"they said
i would never make it;
but I was built
to break the mold.

the only dream
that I was chasing
was my own..."
- Alicia Keyes

My dear friend, Carol, posted Alicia Keyes' profoundly beautiful song,"Underdog," in celebration of the Supreme Court of the United States' landmark decision to uphold DACA today. It brought me to tears.

This post isn't about that decision per se. Its merits or political implications. I will not add to the opinions or rhetoric that will follow. I believe that the majority opinion by Chief Justice Roberts and Justice Sotomayor are worthy of their offices and stand on their own.

This post is simply a humble celebration of our common humanity. It is to affirm for myself, once again, that Love overrides even the most tightly held political and religious codes and creeds, when those certainties face the law of Love.

Here is the prayer - written by Mary Baker Eddy - that has held me in its steady assurance during the days leading up to this Supreme Court decision -- as well and through months of waiting for last week's ruling on workplace protections for LGBTQIA+ employees under the 1964 Civil Rights Act.

It is found in the governing document of The First Church of Christ, Scientist, The Manual of The Mother Church, which outlines the discipline of its members:

"Thy kingdom come, let the reign
of divine Truth, Life, and Love,
be established in me
and rule out of me all sin;
and may Thy Word enrich the affections
of all mankind and govern them."

This "Daily Prayer," as it is titled in the Manual By-Law -- that bears both its name and its purpose -- sustains my hope and undergirds my confidence in our common humanity. There are no underdogs. We are all worthy. And we are all governed by "Thy Word." Not the words of political leaders, pundits, or the opinions of others, - but the Word of Love operating in each human heart.

I will leave this here.

with Love,


Kate

"the third side..."

"When the soul
lies down in that grass,
the world is too full
to talk about..."

David Wilcox and Nancy Petit's, "Out Beyond Ideas,"  gives musical form to the poet Rumi's profound invitation that we meet him in the field where healing and understanding take root and bear fruit.

This morning my loved friend Ginny Nilsen shared this passage from an essay "Through My Enemy's Eyes" [A Journal of Positive Futures - Winter 2002.] It touches so beautifully on this "place" that is so critical to spiritual healing:

"Inmate proposes alternative to dualistic thinking:

Prison inmate and former prison-rights activist Troy Chapman, sentenced at the age of 21 to life in prison, discusses what he calls "the third side":

"I had spent most of my life splitting the world up into two sides, then fighting to defend one against the other. It was a game in which there were strategies, a clear objective, a field of play, and an opponent.

The poet Rumi pointed to something beyond this game when he said,

'Out beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing there is a field. I'll meet you there.'

"When I began to see myself in other -— even in my enemies -— I found myself heading for Rumi's field. Here the game is not a game. No one wins unless and until everyone wins. The line between victim and perpetrator no longer runs between 'I' and 'Other.' It now runs right through the center of my soul. I am both, as we are all both.

"What then is left to fight for? Where does an out-of-work activist go? Well, God is hiring and God is on the third side. Not the prisoner's side or the jailer's side. Not the Left or the Right.

"The third side is that little-represented side of healing. It's the side that cares as much about the enemy as the friend, that says love is the only justice, the only victory there is. It does not want anyone destroyed. It does not want to win if someone else must lose. It wants something much larger than winning and losing."

"Through my enemy's eyes"
Yes! A Journal of Positive Futures
Winter 2002”

Isn't this the "side" that Jesus advocated for. The place from which he wrote in the dust and urged self-righteous indignation to sit in the quiet field of self-examination and compassion.

Isn't this the only place from which he could have said [as reported in Luke's gospel]:

"love your enemies and do good,
and lend, hoping for nothing again.

for He is kind unto the unthankful,
and to the evil.

Be ye therefore merciful;
Judge not,
and ye shall not be judged;
Condemn not,
and ye shall not be condemned;
Forgive,
and ye shall be forgiven..."

To gather in this field of the third side, is to listen with the heart -- and to do so, without the filter of self-certainty and pre-judgment. It is to take off one's shoes and walk on holy ground.

My sister, Nancy Mullane, wrote a book titled, "Life After Murder: Five Men in Search of Redemption." In it she shares the journeys of five men who'd been found guilty of murder and sentenced to life in prison with the possibility of parole. She tells their stories with a journalist's clear, unbiased voice.

I remember reading one man's chilling account of the crime that had led to his incarceration. Earlier, I had met this man at Nancy's book launch event -- after he had been released on parole. He was humble, thoughtful, and gracious. Reading his story, I felt myself take off my shoes and step into that field. I was beyond my own long-held preconceived notions of what kind of man would commit murder. I was willing to hear his story through the lens of his heart -- without bias or fear.

I also remember, so clearly, the tears I shed for that young man, who'd barely been an adult, when a robbery went horribly wrong. And the sudden realization that:

"There, but for the grace of God, go I...”

How many times had I lost my temper as a teenager fighting with my sister over a shared skirt or a missing shoe. How often had I lashed out, said something unkind, pinched, or even thrown a hair brush.  In those moments I was "out of control" -- willing to act on hair-trigger emotions. But I'd also had the privilege of access to books, counselors, and an extended family of spiritual resources for diffusing frustration and feelings of helplessness.

In this field beyond the ideas right and wrong-doing -- and who is on which side -- I felt a new sense of what it meant to have "an understanding heart." This understanding wasn't about figuring out the meaning of a spiritual text. It was about standing next to someone and looking at things from their point of view for the purpose of understanding where they were coming from -- without judgment or opinion. It was the feeling of their hand in yours and the pulse of your common humanity.  It was sharing the space of the third side.

I think Troy Chapman says it so well in the above essay:

"The third side is that little-represented side of healing.

It's the side that cares as much about the enemy 
as the friend, that says love is the only justice, 
the only victory there is.

It does not want anyone destroyed. It does not want to win
if someone else must lose. It wants something much larger
than winning and losing...”

It wants healing -- for one, and for all. It is the place where, as Mary Baker Eddy writes in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures:

"Love is impartial and universal
in its adaptation and bestowals.”

I will meet you there.

offered with Love,

Kate

After reading this post, Ginny sent me a clip from Harry and Meghan's Royal Wedding with this performance of The Kingdom Choir singing "Stand By Me,"  let's stand by one another within the space of the third side.

"an audience of One..."

"Now I live, and I breathe,
for an audience of One."

I've used Sara Groves' "This Journey is My Own," as the keynote for a post from a couple of summers ago, but I'm not that girl -- and this is not that summer.

Rather than this being a song of encouragement for the "me" who I was then -- someone battling a desire to take the pulse of, please, and gain the approval of others. This post is about the kind of freedom that comes with living for "an audience of One."

And those "others" I was always living my life for, also seemed to include me. I wanted my own approval. I wanted to be the kind of person that I would admire. But I have discovered that -- in many cases -- this wasn't any different than wanting the approval of a family member, a friend, a community, or the world.

When I am trying to live my life in a way that I think will please others, I assume I've figured out what they want. Having an ultimate version of me in mind, I was always trying to move towards it. Whether it was to be the kind of person I've alway imagined myself to be, or the kind of person I think someone else wants from me, I've got got my sights set on something besides, "Thy will be done."

In that version of living, there's a legacy I'd like to leave, a mother I think my children would like me to be, a "someone" or "something" I could become that would please others. It is neither peaceful or inspired.

But then I look at the lives of the men and women I most admire and I realize that there is no way they could have been trying to please anyone -- even themselves -- besides God. Whether it's Jesus' willingness to disappoint his disciples -- by not praying himself free from the crucifixion, Mary Baker Eddy's loving response to her students' betrayal, or Mandela's stand for peace in the face of a nation's right to feel justifiable anger, it is clear to me that their journeys -- in moments of "choice" -- were strictly between them and God. And it was their intent to yield to, and please Him -- and Him alone.

How often are we urged to give -- or take -- advise about what should be done according to our own, or another's, best thinking about an issue, choice, or decision. It's hard, once someone tells us what they think is best, to take a different path. Their best thinking can only be right for them, and how they carry out their own choices, responsibilities, and decisions. I trust this. I can' help -- even when being invited to weigh in on someone's choices -- but remember the Philips Brooks' quote which reads:

""God has not given us vast learning
to solve all the problems,
or unfailing wisdom
to direct all the wanderings
of our brothers’ lives;
but He has given
to every one of us
the power to be spiritual,
and by our spirituality
to lift and enlarge
and enlighten
the lives we touch." 

Mary Baker Eddy noted, in her own hand -- following the appearance of this statement on a document found in her papers -- "The secret to my life is in the above."

I am trying to make it mine as well. For me, "to be spiritual" is to trust that we are all God-created, God-inspired, God-impelled, God-governed, and God-sent into every moment, situation, opportunity. It is the deep imperative, the call to go to God -- only -- for direction, guidance, and approval. It is the privilege of knowing that none of us is so wise, so powerful, or so self-determined as to be able to separate ourselves from Him, take our lives into our own hands, and make mistakes.

Even my own well-honed opinions about what I should, or shouldn't, do -- if not taken freshly to God in prayer -- can be just another outgrown best practice, and not the inspiration of the great IAM who is always present, in the present.

I am trying to be especially conscious of the subtle invitation to suggest how I think someone else might think or act -- or to judge their motives or actions. For me, it seems to fly in the face of the kind of trust that Mary Baker Eddy encourages in the second line of her "Daily Prayer," which reads:

"And may Thy Word
enrich the affections of all mankind,
and govern them." 

When we trust God's Word -- working as a moral agent in the heart of every man, woman, and child -- to enrich the affections for good, for His sense of what is right, for His plan for each of us, and for His path in pursuing it, we are free from the weight of trying to please ourselves or others. Only God -- always God. An audience of One.

shared with affection,

Kate