"i am a mental traveler..."

"A mental traveler
hasn't the need to eat or sleep..."

The experience I am sharing today includes another person's insights and words.  But this is really about my experience with what she shared. I am not attempting to interpret her experience or her conclusions.

That said,  years later I asked her if she wouldn't mind my sharing how her example had impacted me. That permission was given in hopes that it would lead to less judging of another person's experience, and a deeper trust in the presence of God. This is my best recollection of conversations that took place decades ago:

Today's inspiration isn't a song -- it is a moment from one of my favorite films of all time -- "Out of Africa." Karin is entertaining Denis Finch-Hatton and Barkley Cole, when Denis asks her about her life travels. She responds that she is  "a Mental Traveler."  I remember seeing this film for the first time in 1985 and falling in love with Isak Dineson as a writer, a woman, a dreamer -- and yes, a mental traveler.

I was madly in love with everything about this film -- especially its characterization of Karin Blixen. "Me too, me too" -- I wanted to say from my theatre seat. I, too, am a mental traveler. I, too, dream of Africa. I, too, have no need to eat or sleep -- just to dream in stories.

I didn't know how precious this insight - about mental traveling  - would be for me, until later. I'd grown up having known a beautiful active woman of my mother's generation. She was the kind of wife and mother one dreams of having or being. Hiking, riding, leading campfires -- she was someone I admired and loved. Her family called her blessed -- and so did everyone else I knew.

One day - after only having spoken by phone for years - I saw her at an event, and she was in a wheelchair. I was heartbroken for her -- and her family. I could only imagine all the things she would no longer be able to do. I also knew her as a devoted spiritual healer, and her situation seemed to scream -- to me, in my immaturity -- that there was something she had not healed.

In the meantime, I was also aware that her husband and children remained extremely active -- mountaineering, world travel, concerts, trips to see friends. I was so sad that she was not able to join them in many of these activities.

She was also someone I looked up to professionally as an experienced spiritual healer, and over the years, I had often called her to talk about our shared love for this work. One day, when we happened to find ourselves alone together, I asked how she was doing. She must have sensed my sympathy, and pressed me to be more clear about my concern. So I did.

I asked her how she was coping with being trapped in a wheelchair, and if she was disappointed that her "healing" hadn't happened yet. She looked at me as if I had absolutely lost my mind.  I could tell that my sense of her situation, was completely inconsistent with what she herself was experiencing.  When she realized what I was asking, she smiled, and then, leaning into the space between us and said, "Oh darling, I am exactly as I need to be. I love what I do, and now, no one expects me to do anything else. I get to be still, take calls, and pray all day."

I asked her if she didn't miss traveling, hiking, going places with her family. She was even more gentle with me as she explained that she was "a mental traveler," and that she prayed with her family - through every activity and adventure. She wasn't missing anything. And in this she was firm. She was content and happy. I was the one who was projecting my concerns about what I was seeing, onto the screen of her beautiful, peace-filled life.

I immediately understood that I had been mal-practicing her joy. Disappointment hadn't touched her at all. But it had distorted my own view of her situation, and what I thought happiness should mean to her. I was the one who was trapped in my version of things.  She was satisfied, free of concern, and at peace.

She would later explain to me that she had fully enjoyed her chapter as a physically active mother and wife. But that this was her current calling as a mom and life-partner -- to be completely focused on the spiritual support that she was giving to her family -- and the people who called her for that same spiritual support each day as a Christian Science healer.

I have never forgotten this conversation. What actually needed to be healed was my sense of what I was seeing -- not her sense of her experience. And I could not be manipulated by a false sense of things. I had the right  -- and the responsibility -- to see that God was with her, and that nothing had touched her ability to be true to her purpose.

In referring to Paul's epistle to the Romans, Mary Baker Eddy writes:


"It is ignorance and false belief, based on a material sense of things, which hide spiritual beauty and goodness. Understanding this, Paul said: “Neither death, nor life, . . . nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God.

This is the doctrine of Christian Science: that divine Love cannot be deprived of its manifestation, or object; that joy cannot be turned into sorrow, for sorrow is not the master of joy; that good can never produce evil; that matter can never produce mind nor life result in death. The perfect man — governed by God, his perfect Principle — is sinless and eternal.

Harmony is produced by its Principle, is controlled by it and abides with it. Divine Principle is the Life of man. Man’s happiness is not, therefore, at the disposal of physical sense."

This statement always makes me think of my friend. She taught me that nothing could have ever separated her from her right to be loving, grateful, satisfied. She taught me that it wasn't my job to assess a situation through the lens of what I believed things "should" look like, but to simply see God's hand in every moment. To trust God's all-power at every juncture in Life's beautiful, unfolding journey. To see only His love at the helm of each unfolding opportunity.  Opportunities that would serve to draw me high unto Him. And, above all, to do His will -- which we learn in I Thessalonians is:

"In everything give thanks;
for this is the will of God
in Christ Jesus concerning you."

I can do that. I can be grateful in every moment for the only thing that is true -- God is with me. I am not alone. Wherever I am, whatever my circumstances are -- God is there. For, as the Psalmist asks, "whither shall I go from Thy spirit, or whither shall I flee from Thy presence..."

I am a mental traveler -- whether that traveling is articulated in movement through geo-physical space or by leaps and bounds through the pages of sacred texts, through time zones and across continents or bridging the abyss between human hearts -- I am satisfied, complete and my life is divinely fair.

offered with Love,

Kate

"the place just right..."

"and when we find ourselves
in the place just right..."

Jewel's recording of "Simple Gifts," touched me deeply tonight. I can't hear it without remembering a moment from over fifteen years ago. A single moment of "contact" with another human being. A moment that had a profound impact on me.

It was the middle of December. For over a year, I'd been commuting twice a month from our home in Colorado to Boston. I'd spend the afternoon flying into Logan, and then I'd take a taxi to the office. My life looked on purpose, successful, and finally - just right. But something wasn't right. Just below the surface I felt oddly disconnected. It didn't make sense.

I prayed often throughout the day, I was engaged in work I loved, working on a project I believed in, had a beautiful family I adored, a dream house we were renovating, served on the board of our local arts council and ballet, was involved in causes I was passionate about, and served a church community I cherished. This feeling of disconnect had no rational basis. There wasn't anything wrong. In fact, I thought everything was very right. Didn't I "have it all?"

But that day as I rode from Logan to the office -- dressed in my Dana Buchman suit and Joan and David pumps, briefcase filled with reports, day planner on the seat next to me, and a pager at my waistband -- I couldn't shake it. I'd lost touch with something vital. It wasn't just that I was missing my daughter's first Nutcracker rehearsal, that the twins were with their nanny, and I couldn't remember the last time we'd eaten as a family. It was something much deeper.

Inching along Storrow Drive during rush hour traffic I decided to use the time for quiet reflection -- to breathe and enjoy the Boston skyline at twilight -- my favorite time of day. The Charles River was on our right, the Back Bay to our left.

Staring out the window towards the river, I saw a large cardboard box leaning against a cinderblock building. In it were two people. A man and a woman, bundled against the December chill of a rainy Boston afternoon just edging into dusk. Her head was resting in the curve of his shoulder, his arm was around her, and his cheek was leaning against the top of her head. They seemed oblivious to the traffic, the cold, their "situation." There was such a profound look of love, contentment,and peace on his face that it took my breath away.

I will never forget the first thought that came to my heart, as the crest of a sob caught in my throat:

"I want what he has..." 

And I knew it was the truth. More true -- for me -- than anything else at that moment. It wasn't that I was unhappy. I loved my family, I loved my work, I loved my home. But I also thought that I was responsible for maintaining it all. I had to stay alert, be willing, pray without ceasing -- never rest. I longed to be at peace with just trusting God's care for all of us. I ached to know that I could be just as serene if I were living in a cardboard box. That I could be completely oblivious to the mental trafficking of false expectations, ambition, achievement, approval, acceptance. That I could truly lean into Mary Baker Eddy's admonition to:

"Trust Truth,
and have no other trusts." 

In a matter of minutes we were beyond that section of Storrow Drive, but I was never the same. The look of deep contentment and peace I saw in that man's eyes -- as he held his partner, in a cardboard box -- has never left me. It has been something I've sought within myself ever since. For me, it is:

"the place just right..." 

I seek it throughout each day. I often return to that moment in the back of a taxi as a touchstone. I ask myself: "Do I need this project, house, person, event, acquisition, accomplishment to tell me I am content, satisfied, at peace with myself, and at one with God? Would I be just as content in a cardboard box on the side of the road? Would my trust in God be just as unwavering and unshaken?"

For me, it's what is at the heart of Mary Baker Eddy's poem, "Satisfied," which begins:

"It matters not
what be thy lot,
so Love doth guide;
For storm or shine,
pure peace is thine,
whate’er betide..." 

Each day I pray that whether I am in a cardboard box or a cottage by the sea, with a friend or a stranger, appreciated or vilified, feasting or famished, giving or receiving, blessing or being bless -- I am deeply, profoundly, unwaveringly content because God is with me and nothing else can give me peace, or take from me my right to love. This is my cardboard box prayer -- it never leaves me. And I never leave it.

always,

Kate

"resolving things into thoughts..."

"It's only words,
and words are all I have..."

I've always loved the Bee Gee's song, "Words." As a girl, I felt that in the absence of physical stature, authority, or resources, words were all I had. Words represented limitless ideas, thoughts, inspiration. There was no false measurement of an idea -- they were simply, always infinite is scope.

No matter what was going on in my life, I could always retreat to the space of consciousness, a place where these infinite thoughts and ideas waited like eager friends. I'd listen, they'd answer all my big questions, and we'd create beautiful word sculptures from the raw materials of ideas, thoughts, metaphors and symbols.

This was always enough for me. So what happened?

If you've read my recent post, "the evidence," you might sense that I am in the space of deep paradigm-shifting. It often seems as if inspirational texts -- that I once thought I "got," -- are now, so new to me. It's almost like I've joined Alice, and stepped through the looking glass. Everything feels a bit upside down, and I'm a wonder-filled child again.

Take this much-loved, and familiar passage from Science and Health with Key to the Scripture by Mary Baker Eddy:

"Desire is prayer.
And no loss can occur
from trusting God with our desires,
that they may be moulded and exalted,
before they take form
in words and in deeds."

Okay, so here's how I always interpreted this: I had desires. And those desires were articulated as prayer.  Meaning, I could trust them to be "of God," since prayer is, as Eddy states earlier on the same page, "God's gracious means..."

So, I'd continue:  I have these God-inspired desires - prayers.  I can trust them to be moulded and exalted by Him, before they take form in words and in deeds...

Isn't there something missing here? Aren't the words and deeds just a stepping stone to their final form? Actual things?  Things like stronger muscles, bigger bank accounts, a better job.  Well, not according to this statement.  It says that words and deeds are the form.

But that wasn't what I had been thinking -- or expecting -- for a very long time.  Somehow I'd gotten the impression that these word-symbolized ideas, thoughts, and deeds, would eventually lead to more tangible forms.

For example,  take my desire for home. I would pray, and would be inspired with ideas that would take "form" in prayers.  These ideas, I understood to be the spiritual substance of home. Ideas like: "the spiritual foundation of home is kindness, respect, charity, a foundation that is deep, enduring, God-based, and reliable."  

It was my privilege, as a spiritual thinker, to consciously cherish those ideas and put them into practice.  Then, when understood sufficiently, they would take form -- or have manifestation -- in a house. Thus giving "form" to a spiritual sense of home. 

But that doesn't seem to be what Eddy is saying in the above-referenced statement. And for that matter, my interpretation of that statement, was not necessarily borne out in the lives of prophets and apostles.   I respected these Biblical thought-leaders for their deep spiritual sense of home and place.  Yet, when I thought about it, I realized I didn't know all that much about their houses.  I knew about their ability to find peaceful resting places in the wilderness, deserts, "the valley of the shadow of death," and on dusty roads -- but nope, not so much about their houses.

Yet Eddy states that words and deeds are the form. And when I started thinking about the people I deeply admired -- Jesus, Gandhi, Mandela, Angelou, Lincoln -- I realized that I didn't know much about their houses, bodies, bank accounts, or neighborhoods either. It wasn't their "things" that recommended them, it was their legacy of thoughts and deeds which were timeless -- eternal.

Suddenly everything became alive with a limitless spiritual reality -- right then and there!  The very atmosphere of consciousness felt pulsing with tangible, reliable, infinitely substantive forms.  Forms that were already completely, fully realized. 

Now, everything I am reading about "thought" it has a new sense of promise. Take this stanza from Eddy's poem, "Satisfied:"

"And of these stone,
and tyrant's thrones,
God able is,
to raise up seed,
in thought and deed
to faithful His..."

Yes! Yes! Yes!  In thought and deed.  Not in the right job, houses, cars, more youthful bodies, improved stock portfolios, but in "thoughts and deeds." Thoughts and deeds that are the evidence -- the seed realized -- the fruition, the substance, the reality. 

For so many years I've expected good thoughts to resolve themselves -- when considered metaphysically -- into things.   For example:  an understanding of abundance, would resolve itself into the "demonstration of supply" -- money.  A deeper spiritual sense of motherhood unfolds as a tangible "demonstration of family" -- a loved one found, marriage, a child conceived or adopted, siblings reunited, improved relationships.

But I don't think this is what Eddy is saying.  She is encouraging us to "resolve things into thoughts," and to "exchange the objects of sense for the ideas of Soul" -- not the other way around.

So, perhaps our houses, our loved ones, financial responsibilities, our servant-bodies, the need for transportation, the demands of being part of a community -- locally or globally -- are simply the "things" that God lovingly provides as encouragement.  Encouragement to go deeper, higher --  to go back to the spiritual well, the Source of those symbols.  These divine gifts keep us invested in a deeper desire for the real substance of life -- those thoughts, words, and deeds that are indissoluble, infinite, eternal, and enduring.  Perhaps they are the things that lead us to their resolution --  into more inspired thoughts, and kinder deeds.

This is a shift for me. To stop thinking that my desires -- my prayers -- are not going to take eventual form in "things."  And to discover that these desires have already been evidenced -- so perfectly --  in words, thoughts, and deeds.  

Elsewhere in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, Mary Baker Eddy states: 

Metaphysics resolves things into thoughts,
and exchanges the objects of sense
for the ideas of Soul."

We are not resolving infinite thoughts, into things that are limited.  Into measurable, restricted forms. These boundless thoughts are expanding our sense of being -- not reducing them.

I am finding that to be truly "satisfied," with these expansive spiritual forms is the simplicity in Christ that I have been seeking.  In this space I feel happy, innocent, childlike, and free. Free to be completely grateful in every moment of trust, to appreciate each instance of faith, inspired thought, beautiful words, a kind deed, infinite hope.  No more waiting or wanting.

Last night I was lying in the dark and I realized that when I align myself fully with this deeper sense of being satisfied, there is nothing more to desire. I am completely present with every thought and word that comes to my heart.  There is no want.  My contentment is secure.  I know that no one can stop me from listening for God's thoughts, and watching them take form in words.  And immediately, I can bless others with those thoughts.

And really, can there be any greater deed that you, or I, or anyone else can ever do than to bless another with our God-moulded and exalted prayers of appreciation? Or a Love-inspired gift of right spiritual identification? The genuine desire for them to know God's presence and power in their lives?  Nothing can stop us from doing these good deeds all night and day. 

A friend once shared with me a concept that has been attributed to Mary Baker Eddy, but without documentation of that attribution.  Whether Mary Baker Eddy is responsible for it or not, it has been helpful to me -- so I will share it here in the way that I think about it: 

Let's say you have a quarter.  That quarter is a symbol.  We -- society, the federal treasury, the market -- have determined, and agreed, that this symbol represents twenty-five cents, or one quarter of one dollar.  We accept that measure of its symbolic worth -- based on current treasury numbers.  Supply and demand markets tell us how much, in goods and services, we can expect to get in exchange for this quarter.  

But if we step back a bit and look at things spiritually, that quarter is just a symbol.  And what it symbolizes is very different when we start -- as Eddy instructs -- with the All-in-allness of God.  If this symbol exists, it exists as a representative of good, of value, worth, appreciation for the creativity and services provided.  And since these qualities -- goodness, value, worth, appreciation are spiritual they only have one measure -- All.  You can't get just a little bit -- or even a moderate amount -- of anything spiritual.  The only measure of Spirit is infinite, all.  Therefore the only measure of its expression is infinite, all -- all the time.  

To be in the presence that quarter -- which is a symbol of value and worth -- is to experience the presence of the All-in-all of what it represents.  All value is yours, all worth is yours, all goodness is yours -- abundantly.  No process, no growth, no maturity -- and no decay.   The symbol -- a quarter, points us to the true "form" -- the presence of value, worth, appreciation, goodness.  Thus we have resolved things -- the quarter, into infinite thoughts -- again, value, worth, appreciation, goodness.  

These "forms" are enough. They are not the means to another "end." They are not the way we get good things, or even better things. They are the end itself -- the all, the everything I have ever wanted, needed -- or desired.  To know the full value of love, to appreciate the good that is in the world, to discover the immortality, strength and beauty of a relationship with the divine. 

I will stop here -- this is a topic that is still becoming fully formed for me.  And as I've often said, this is my experience -- it is what is true for me, today.

shared with Love,

Kate

"Safe in the arms of Love..."

"I want a heart to be forever mine,
I want eyes to see me satisfied,
Gonna hang my heartaches out to dry...
Someday I'm gonna be safe in the arms of love,
Safe in the arms Of Love"

I heard the first verse of Martina McBride's "Safe in the Arms of Love," the other day, and there wasn't a moment's hesitation to my response...

"Hey, I've got that...I've already got all of that."

And it was a feeling that ran very deep...like an underground river.  I didn't have to reason it out, or ponder it for a long time...it was as immediate, and present, as any feeling I've ever had.  And I think maybe, it just might be, that Jesus' message of "the kingdom of heaven is within you" is finally getting through! 

It infinitely clear that, the only heart that will ever be "forever mine," is...well, mine.  That the one, and only, love that I can always be sure of, is the love that I am feeling...for God, and for others.  It's within me...and nothing can take it away.  Nothing, and no one, can deprive me of its constancy, its reliability, its ever-presence.  It's source is God, Love...so, by reflection, it is mine...and it's forever mine.  Because I am His, forever His. 

That doesn't mean that the affection, warmth, and tenderness that I feel,  from others...my loved ones -- family and friends...brings any less sweetness, happiness, and joy.  Quite the contrary.  I experience each moment of their love with an even greater wonder and delight because it is no longer a measure of how much love I have in my life.  The love in my life is full and overflowing...but it comes from within...not without.   It's only defined by the love I have to give, not the love I hope to get.

And as for those "eyes that see me satisfied..."  Well, they look back at me from the mirror every morning.  I know that, as Mary Baker Eddy says, in her poem, "Satisfied":

"It matters not, what be thy lot
so Love doth guide."

It no longer matters whether I am experiencing a lot of love, or that my lot in life...at any given moment....is lean with aloneness, or gaping with opportunities to grow in grace, to be a blessing in the world I walk in.  As long as I am letting Love guide my heart, my motives, my speech and actions, I have the right to be...and am... satisfied.  And I can see this contentment in myself, and know that it is unshakeable.

So tonight, as I sit here thinking about all the campers, counselors, staff, and bunkhouse parents...who have gathered at various summer camps across the country to grow spiritually, and make new friends ...I am feeling such deep peace knowing that the kingdom of heaven is within each of us, that our hearts are guided solely by Love, that we are  safe in, and as, His outreached arms of extended blessings...and, that we are...right now...satisfied. 

rest well....

Kate

"Whither thou goest..."

"Whither thou goest
I will go
And where thou lodgest
There will I lodge
Thy people will be my people now
And thy God will be my God…"
- Ruth

I love this song.  I have heard it sung at weddings…and a memorial service.  I have always associated it with the willingness to leave all that is familiar and follow a loved one wherever their inner sense of mission and purpose leads them.  My office comes with me wherever I go.  My laptop, cell phone, a dog-eared Bible and a well-loved (and scribbled in) copy of Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures…all tucked neatly into a sea-worthy canvas tote…and I am ready to set up shop in the nearest coffeehouse, park bench or boulder.

There has always been something deliciously promising about knowing that I could go anywhere and still be "in the office".  But there has also been something insidiously taunting about it too.  The suggestion "You could do this anywhere…so where do you want to be?" pokes at me in the middle of the night, in the middle of traffic, and from the middle of the Midwest.  This has been a gift and a burden…all at once.  It has often left me feeling trapped in places that aren't my first choice geographically.  It has allowed me to indulge in thinking that distracts me from "blooming where I am planted," and has permitted an indulgence in "what if" thinking, rather than "what is" living. "You know how to move, how about one more for the gipper," it whispers, "perhaps this time will be the last."

When the girls were little it was easy to imagine picking them up and carrying them away to a coastal village in Maine, or a cabin in the heart of the Rockies.  I would work, they would play, we would home-school, and my husband would do whatever it was that he had always dreamed of doing…something that would, of course, have a lovely place as its setting since when you dream you get to choose…and who would choose something that isn't lovely. 

The choosers, the deciders in my best-case scenario would either be my husband…or me.  Right? And of course, we would have talked and would have the same geographical sensibilities and therefore whatever we chose would be lovely and consistent with any of my dream locations.

Enter children…and this is where a heart can surrender to divine will on a dime.  Like in the story of Ruth and Naomi in the Bible, the dynamics of family...of mothers and fathers and children...find us yielding our dreams and wishes to what is best for others.  When we love one another, we listen, we don't impose our sensibilities on others, but care enough to learn what is lovely to them.   Our children have a whole different criteria for lovely.  One that, I think, is more in line spiritually, with living as a verb.  Our daughters love their activities…they love the give and take of friendships nurtured through years of laughter and playground problem-solving, they love riding their bikes on familiar roads and greeting an opposing team each new soccer season with renewed hopes of "this year...". 

Our ten-year old twins don't care if there is a 14,000 foot mountain in their backyard or a New England harbor at the end of their block, they only care about loving their friends, hugging their parents, laughing at the ridiculous, embracing the eternal facts about God and his universe, and knowing that home is a place within their hearts...that no one can take away.  They long for certainty...the assurance that they have a purpose in life that is worthy and appreciated.  They want their company to be enjoyed and their hearts to be heard.  They want to BE who they are and DO what they love and know is right.  They live as verbs, not waiting for the right person or place to BE and DO with or in, but living, learning, doing, loving, playing, praying…ing-ing wherever they have been planted.

So, we will follow them, we will lodge where they lodge, we will serve where they serve, their people will be our people, and their God (the one who is a verb) will be our God.   And even though we have five children...all of whom we love dearly and at different times, and in different seasons may follow and lodge near...these are the ones still little enough to be needing us day to day.  I am so grateful for the daily reminder, through Eddy's Daily Prayer (see below) that God omnipotently safeguards and governs us all through His reign of Love in our hearts.  He alone holds the reins on our affections and guides us through life's labyrinth with Love...always with love. 

I think I get it this time.  Thank you God for your patience...and persistence...with me.

"Intreat me not to leave you
or return from following after you
for whither thou goest
I will go
And thy God will be my God…"

If you would like to hear the melody to this song…just call, it is so beautiful and I can't find a recording of it online (and no, it is neither the Cohen or Como versions found on Youtube) to share with you.  I promise to sing softly…
Kate

The Daily Prayer
"Thy kingdom come;"
let the reign of divine Truth, Life, and Love
be established in my,
and rule out of me all sin;
and may Thy Word enrich the affections
of all mankind, and govern them!
-Mary Baker Eddy