"dropping my map with a thousand folds..."

"Drop my map
with a thousand folds,
In the distance
I see it glow;

There's a light,
there's a light
in the window..."

Carrie Newcomer's  "A Light in the Window" has been my traveling song this year.

But I am getting ahead of myself. A few years ago our daughters transferred from the private school they'd attended since preschool, to The Link School, an expeditionary high school nestled in high in the Rocky Mountains. I followed them to this small town in our beautiful Arkansas River valley within weeks, and Jeff six months later.

The Link School embraces student families, and I was so happy to be able to sit in on a number of the girls' classes. That Fall, school founder and Director, Bobby Lewis, was teaching a Sunday evening class titled "Explorations in Spiritual Literature." I was fascinated. Especially when I discovered that the The Tao of Pooh was on their reading list.

The Sunday that I joined Bobby, and the fifteen students who had gathered in the yurt, seemed like any other. Little did I know that I would be given a great and precious gift that night

At one point Bobby posed the question to the students: "How would you define the difference between spirituality and religion?" What a great question I thought. I couldn't wait to hear their answers. They were thoughtful and born out of their experiences. Then one of the students asked Bobby, "how would you define the difference between spirituality and religion?"

Bobby took his time. He was quiet for a good minute before saying that, for him:

"Spirituality is the inner landscape
that we all have to navigate.
Religions, philosophies,
are just different kinds of maps
for navigating that landscape.

Some people like a road map,
others prefer a topographical map,
some use a GPS that tells them
exactly where to turn -- and when.

And some people don't want to use
a map at all -- they just like to
bushwhack. And while some use multiple
types of maps -- depending on the
journey -- they all have to find
their way through that inner territory."

To say that I was gob-smacked with gratitude and wonder -- is a serious understatement. I was motionless. I didn't want to move for fear that it wouldn't sink in deeply enough.  I wanted to be able to remember it, so I could carry it with me for the rest of time.

If I had been taking notes to revisit later, they would have been worn-out and in shreds within the first week. It wasn't just that this was simply a great way to think about the question. For me, it was life-affirming.  It resonated with everything that I believed. It gave shape to the substance of my respect for the mapping choices of fellow spiritual travelers.  I felt like I had taken this metaphor into my heart, let it dissolve on my tongue, digested it fully, and it had assimilated in every mental molecule of my being.

You see, I had always thought of myself as a map person. I couldn't ever seem to follow the turn-by-turn instruction that Victoria, my Australian accented GPS tour guide, was giving me. I didn't trust her. I liked looking at a road map and seeing the whole trip laid out before me. I felt safe being able to imagine the next turn in the road.

But I also knew that there were times that Victoria might come in handy.  And  I wanted to understand why this was the navigational tool my daughters preferred. So, the next time I had to go to "the big city," I put aside my Rand-McNally road atlas, and committed to trusting Victoria to get me where I needed to go. And you know, she did. It wasn't what was familiar for me, but I realized that it worked. Yes, I still like my road map, but I can now see that Victoria is a legitimate option for navigating a difficult path.

The next trip I needed to make, I decided that I would use no map, no Victoria -- just other humans. I'd use the trip to connect with fellow travelers. I refused to calculate my estimated time of arrival. I headed southwest -- knowing that where I needed to end up was in that general direction -- and when I felt like I might have made a wrong turn, I pulled into a coffeehouse or service station and asked for directions. Another approach -- not necessarily my preference -- but it worked. I got there, and along the way, I saw beautiful scenery I hadn't expected and met people I won't forget.

I am a planner. Or at least that has been my modus operandi for most of my life. I have felt "safe" being able to anticipate bumps in the road, possible detours and missing way marks.  I like calculating estimated times of arrival based on speed of travel and distance to cover. It's been "the only way" for me. And I've been pretty darned proud of my ability to get out ahead of the traffic.

But I realized recently that I have put very little trust in what I cannot see, with that approach to travel -- or to navigating my inner landscape. So, I have been "dropping my map with a thousand folds," and have begun to navigate this journey based on looking for the Light in the window.

I am waiting for God, divine Love, to show me where He is preparing a place -- with a little table, a bed, a chair, and a lamp. And sometimes, I find that this prepared place is actually right here within me. That the light from the window, is the love-light shining in my own heart -- leading me home to the kingdom within.

But other days, I will be reading the Bible and there will be a story or a message that will serve as a topographical map for my day's journey. Or I might just head out the door without a weather map -- knowing that I will be fine - rain or shine.

This winter Jeff and I have had the opportunity to navigate new landscapes -- spiritually, emotionally, professionally, and logistically. We have maps with a thousand folds, that have served us for years -- and we use them.  But, we have also learned to listen for step-by-step instructions, we have paused on the road and watched the Sun's movement in order to get our bearings. We have bushwhacked and followed half-broke trails. We have walked hand-in-hand, and we have split up, in order to explore new trails -- calling out to one another, "I found a cairn, here is a marker, I see a light in the window."

We have folded and unfolded those sacred maps, used our well-loved spiritual compass, read the travel journals of wiser pilgrims, and we have stood still -- so many times -- just listening for the sound of a nearby river, waiting for the Wind to bring us the scent of home. Love asks us to be still, and Love beckons us onward.

One statement has been as sweet as breadcrumbs found on the path of this journey. It helps me remember that there is a reason for taking every step. Knowing my over-arching purpose has been a light in the window. Mary Baker Eddy writes:

"As you journey, and betimes sigh
for rest “beside the still waters,”
ponder this lesson of love. Learn
its purpose; and in hope and faith,
where heart meets heart reciprocally
blest, drink with me the living waters
of the spirit of my life-purpose, — 
to impress humanity with the genuine
recognition of practical, operative
Christian Science."

This has been my "home." Navigating my way has been so blessed by maps and compasses, cairns and traveling companions, guideposts and an ever-present Light in the window.


offered with Love,

Kate

"tired of failing..."

"we pray for blessings,

we pray for peace,

comfort for family, 

protection while we sleep. 

we pray for healing, for prosperity,

and we pray for your mighty hand 

to ease our suffering; 

and all the while You hear 

each spoken need, 

yet love us way too much

to give us lesser things..."

Laura Story's incredible song, "Blessings" still fractures every splinter of ego-preservation.  And this live performance is one I cannot listen to - without having the last linch pin of all pride removed.

Here goes:  I am so tired of feeling like a spiritual failure. There, I said it. There was time when I would have been afraid that if I posted a statement like that, I would have signed my own "death" warrant as a spiritual healer. I have since learned that this is not only not the case, it is actually the opposite of what is true.

There are a few things that have, over the last few decades, become supremely clear to me:

1) when judging one's relationship with God -- according to the model propounded by a prosperity gospel culture -- Jesus, Mary Baker Eddy, Gandhi, Mandela - and almost every spiritual luminary that I admire -- is a failure.

Jesus didn't heal Judas of his betrayal, Mary Baker Eddy didn't "heal" the lawsuits filed against her by her son and closest confidants; Gandhi wasn't able to stop the violence perpetrated against his people, and Mandela didn't escape from prison.

2) Measuring one's spiritual growth by human accomplishments, achievements, and the accrual of possessions is, at best, a false model. It takes only the most cursory reading of the gospels to discover that "things" are not indicators of God's love for us.  Otherwise, Jesus just didn't cut it -- no home, no camel, few possessions.

3) The spiritual can only be seen and experienced spiritually.  It is one thing to know the spiritual nature of "home," it is quite another to equate that knowing with bricks, mortar, mortgages, and deeds.  I keep coming back to "I have a body, I am not my body."  And in kind, "I have a house, my sense of home is not validated by a house."

Having once lived in a small spiritual community -- where everyone thought they knew what was absolutely and  unequivocally true for everyone else -- I discovered that although spiritual cultures grow out of a common love for a  fundamental Truth -- they often resort to judging one another to give a false sense of structure and order to their community.

What seems to have occurred, throughout history, is that cultures do what egos - individual or collective -- always do.  They form hierarchies in order the sort their "members" into bad, good, better, best.  And in order to do that, they have to decide what practices and measures will be used to assign individual placement within those hierarchies.

Within "spiritual" cultures, most of these measuring indices are based on judging the words and behaviors of "others" in ways that that can be quickly sorted by one's compliance to culturally determined policies and rules.  Instead of temperance, we rely on abstinence.   Abstinence is easy.  Abstinence allows us to make a black or white assessment based on what we see -- or assume. We can look at someone and quickly determine if they are practicing abstinence.  In contrast, temperance is almost impossible to judge from the outside.  It is a practice that relies on self-knowledge and self-control.  It is contingent on one's relationship to an inner moral compass.  Only the person his/herself truly knows when they are being temperate in their consumption of chocolate -- vs. gluttonous or abstinent.

For example:  Imagine that your model is temperance. And the behavior in question is drinking coffee.  You walk into a restaurant and see a member of your community sitting in front of a cup of coffee.  You might even see them pick up that cup and take a sip.  Where abstinence is the model, you can immediately judge that person's compliance to the cultural "rules."  But where temperance is the model, you have no idea whether it is their first or fifteenth cup of coffee.  You can only trust that there is divine sovereignty governing their every choice.  You greet them, smile, and turn to your own practice of what is right - for you!

It is relevant here to note, that in her definition of the word "Moral." on page 115 of Science and Health with Key the Scriptures, Mary Baker Eddy lists these qualities of thought, word, and action:

"Humanity, honesty, affection,
faith, hope, compassion,
meekness, temperance."

But cultures resist accepting these qualities as the true standard of free moral agency.  Primarily because they cannot be measured from the outside -- only from within the sanctuary of one's relationship with the divine. Not having an easy measuring stick for where someone fits, is frustrating to cultures that thrive on hierarchies of behavior to determine place and power, achievement or failure. How do you know if you are better than someone else, if you can't decide how good (or bad) they are.  Cultures feed on comparisons.

Now let's take it a little further -- with an experience I had some years ago.

Being in the public practice of spiritual healing is humble work.  Our daughters were navigating the twists and turns of a community -- one that truly believed it had established its standards - for judging one another - on Jesus' teachings.

An opportunity to participate in an activity was presented to the girls.  But it was one that was costly.  The girls were concerned that the expense was more than our modest family budget could absorb. We prayed about how to proceed. When they were asked if they would be participating, they said, "probably not, this might be too much for our family."  The person in charge of the activity said -- without hesitation:  "Then your parents might want to pray more diligently about how to demonstrate the supply necessary for you to go."

There was no recognition that our daughters had prayed, and that they had been given the humility and grace to say "no," to the invitation, and that they were bringing remarkable courage to the moment.  There was little appreciation that this was an opportunity for "growth in grace' -- one that far-outweighed the activity in question. There was no acknowledgment that our family was demonstrating abundance -- in how we shared our resources and lived simply -- a lifestyle that honored our highest reading of scripture.

What if, as Laura sings, our blessings come as tears -- not peals of laughter.  What if our healing comes in the form of a deeper peace, rather than the "fixing" of a human situation that we have deemed as a spiritual failure.  What if, what society measures as a failure is actually the highest achievement in Christ -- the opportunity for growth in humility, patience, meekness, charity, forgiveness.

I am reminded of another statement that Mary Baker Eddy makes in Science and Health:

"Our disappointments and ceaseless woes,
turn us like tired children to the arms of divine Love,
then we begin to learn life in divine Science."

What if, our disappointments and ceaseless woes are not an indication of our failure to understand the Science of Being, but are actually the starting point for learning deeper lessons of spiritual consciousness -- the impartial and universal law of Love.

I refuse to let a false measure of what constitutes life in divine Science, make me feel like a failure any more.  I demonstrate my love for God, by my love for God -- not in any other way.  I demonstrate my understanding of Life through my moment-by-moment trust in the eternality of consciousness, not by more human days spent in this particular chapter of my eternal story.

I refuse to let the measuring stick of a culture - any culture - tell me anything about the strength of my relationship with God. This human experience is just a laboratory. It is not my "home." And at the end of any day spent in this laboratory, I return to my "home" -- my consciousness of Love.  It is here that I am loved and nurtured - impartially and universally. This is where the only true measure of my worth is found in the eyes of my first Love -- my Father-Mother God. Here I am enough. And that is enough for me.

offered with Love,

Kate

"spiritual biodiversity…"

"This is the sound of all of us.
Singing with love and the will to trust.
Leave the rest behind it will turn to dust.
This is the sound of all of us."*

The relationship between the inner landscape, and Alan Savory's principles of Holistic Resource Management, have fascinated -- and inspired -- me for over two decades. 

My first introduction to HRM was through Byron Shelton, who at the time was the Ranch Director for the Adventure Unlimited Ranches in Buena Vista, Colorado. Byron's enthusiasm for Holistic Resources Management was contagious.

I remember that sunny afternoon in June. I'd asked Byron to walk me through the fundamentals of HRM.  He explained that native grasslands did not need protection from large herding animals, but thrived in symbiosis with them.

He went on to explain that the practice of fencing off our agri-delineated land so that it would not be trampled on by cattle -- thus leaving it undisturbed and fallow -- was actually depriving the land of its most vital relationship. A relationship that could transform our global landscape. A relationship between the land its inhabitants that had potential for reversing the desertification of grasslands, pastures and prairies worldwide.

He showed me a beautiful -- but fenced off -- high country pasture.  Upon first examination it was lovely.  Filled with small clusters of flowering plants.  He explained that those arrestingly lovely flowering clusters were called forbes.  And that each forbe -- although beautiful to look at -- represented a self-seeding cluster that was surrounded by arid, dry, cracked, earth devoid of organic plantlife.  He explained that, in fact, each cluster -- however beautiful -- would continue to grow smaller and smaller as it self-seeded.  And as each cluster grew smaller all that would remain would be a pasture of dry, arid, useless soil.

He explained that by removing the fences and allowing the large herding animals -- cattle, elk, bison, etc -- to trample on and break up the hard, dry soil we would be taking the first step in renewing the land. This breaking up of the soil allows the rain water and snowmelt which washes through the pasture to collect in the broken up land, to penetrate more deeply, and thus rebuild the natural water table far below the surface topsoil.

He also explained that when the large herding animals ate the nourishing grasses, their digestive system (including natural, efficient waste management) would spread the seed throughout the pasture by way of their dung.  Thus providing a warm germinating medium for the seed, and preventing it from blowing away in the wind. 

I was fascinated.

This all made so much sense to me then. And it still does today. 

And I've loved considering its implications for other landscapes -- community, church, family. And for me, most importantly, the invironment -- the inner pastures of the heart and mind -- where the most vital transformation can take place.

How often do we think that the best way to protect our principles -- our values, traditions, or dogmas -- is to fence ourselves off from anything that would trample on our precious, beautiful, well-patted-down ideals?  We self-seed. And we become thrilled with the beautiful flowering plants that begin to spring up.  But on closer examination those flowering clusters are growing smaller and smaller as their re-population within the pasture becomes less and less frequent.

How do we "save" those ideals we love so dearly, and care for with such fervor? I believe it is through rigorous spiritual biodiversity.

Mary Baker Eddy, advises, in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, that:

"All nature teaches God's love to man." 

If we look at nature -- and at what the Savory Institute has tested and proven in sub-Saharan Africa, as well as in agri-communities throughout the world -- we begin to learn that we must begin by taking down our self-preservationist fencing. We can start by removing the mental boundaries we constructed between "us" and "them." Just as in Holistic Resource Management principles, the pasture lives in symbiosis with the cattle, each providing an important counterpoint to the other's survival -- so do our most loved ideas grow by being challenged and investigated by others. We did deeper for fresh water and our roots grow stronger in being tested.

I am beginning to think that we must allow our much-loved, well-protected, and self-certain belief-landscapes to be questioned, reasoned through, and tested. In doing so, that the soil will be broken up and aerated. This well-turned mental soil is then ready to receive and drink in the healing, nourishing, refreshing waters of inspiration. This is soil that receives new seed eagerly. This is fertile ground for sustainable growth. 

And when we share the seed without restraint, we allow those precious flowers to be eaten --  taken in, chewed on, digested -- and yes, spread both on the wind, and through the process of bio-elimination.

Yes, our well-loved beliefs may get stirred up with the soil, but so will the self-certainty and cultural mis-interpretations that come with decades of self-preservation.

I've been exploring the principles of Alan Savory's Holistic Resource Management to govern the care of my in-vironment -- my inner landscape -- and my sense of community.  I have learned to welcome those "others" who are willing to challenge my self-certainty. I am not afraid to have my beliefs examined and turned upside-down by genuine inquiry. It is often through this exchange that I receive fresh inspiration, find that the soil of my heart is less fallow, and my inner water table renewed.   

And I love it when the flowers of my pretty forbe-like thought-clusters are chewed on by those who are interested -- not just in hearing about the beliefs that I cherish -- but are willing to share their own in spiritual symbiosis. 

Yes, sometimes this leads to my beliefs being rejected -- eliminated from their system of thinking. But it is also true that through this process, the essence of those same ideas will be shared more broadly, and foster new growth. 

These are just some thoughts that have been absolutely critical to the vitality and sustainability of my own inner ecosystem.   I admit, I may have taken what Byron shared that day and unwittingly walked all over it -- I sure hope not. These principles transformed my sense of what it meant to live and think in a diverse spiritual thought-community. It has made such a difference in the way I see the world, and my place in it.

Recently The Savory Institute was honored by TED as having produced one of the "TED Ads Worth Spreading". 

I am not surprised.  Their video was produced by Foresight Media, under the direction of Laurie Benson. Its purpose is to introduce a larger audience to principles that have the potential of reversing devastating environmental concerns and giving thought leaders, ranchers, and spiritual pioneers around the globe a model for sustainable inner health and viability. 

Thank you Alan Savory,  The Savory Institute,  Joel and Laurie Benson, John and Alison Abdelnaur at Foresight Media. And thank you Byron Shelton. Your willingness to take an afternoon and explain these principles to an eager listener was life-transforming.

with Love,

Kate

*Please enjoy the Wailin' Jennys "One Voice" -- it speaks to me tonight.

"This journey is my own..."

"why would I want to live for man
and pay the highest price
what does it mean to gain the whole world
only to lose my life...

So I do what I do
to make a good impression
This journey is my own
And so much of what I say
is to make myself  look better
This journey is my own..."
-     Sara Groves

With Sara Groves on my ipod, "This Journey is My Own," became my companion song as I drove through the breath-takingly beautiful Arkansas Valley yesterday.   With Antero, Harvard, Princeton, Columbia, Yale...mountain sentinels...starboard, and the river port side, I was aware that these geographical markers were keeping me on course in the same way that the equipoise of honesty and compassion, integrity and affection,  serve as navigational buoys as I move through the choppy, or calm, waters of my day.  

I've experienced many kinds of spiritually transformative moments in the last few decades, but I think the one that I am most grateful for tonight is an ongoing dissolution of the "me" that actually thinks that she needs the approval of others, more than she needs to be right with herself...especially the approval of those I love, and hope love me.

In the past, I've paid a very high price in trying to gain the appreciation, acceptance, and acknowledgment of others, only to realize that by doing so I had lost "my life" in direct proportion to my desire for gaining the whole world...and its approval.  And to tell you the truth, it is never worth it.  It leaves my heart feeling cold, and achingly empty.   If I can't be "me" and be loved...if I must be something I am not, to be accepted...what have I really gained?  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  Nada,  Zip. Zero.  If people love a version of me that is not genuine, then the genuine me is not loved at all.  And this, my friends, is a painfully sad way to live.

We each face hard choices...moment-by-moment...as we navigate our individual journeys towards spiritual self-awareness and our place in the human family.  I find that I am often asking myself critical questions like:  Do I say the thing that will make other people happy, things that will make them like me, and will assure them that I am "with the program," or do I speak, act, live out from "mine integrity,"  -- a clear conviction about God's voice, and direction, in my life?   Do I let myself be guided by a God-centered inner compass, or am I swayed by human opinions about my decisions and my choices?

This journey is my own.  I alone am accountable to God for how I traverse the steep hillside...and the narrow way.  And it is all about the "how" these days.   Am I speaking with an authentic voice?  Am I obediently following the leadings of Truth as my conscience and Love point out the way?  Am I honest?  Is my heart impartially and universally filled with affection and patience?  Do I live my convictions with humility and non-judgment? 

These are the questions that keep me up at night...and, to be honest, fill my days with purpose.  I find that when I am so engaged in my own journey, I have little time to, as Phillips Brooks once said, "direct the wanderings of [my] brothers' lives." Then, salvation...my salvation...is what holds primacy in my sense of purpose, and I can hear God's "thou art mine," with sweet clarity and peace.

The full text of Brooks' quote follows:

"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."

Yes, this journey is my own and I am trying, each day, to walk it in a way that I don't end up losing my life, in order to gain the whole world.  Gaining the whole world...it's just not all it's cracked up to be.  So, I think I will, as Sara sings, live, and breathe, for an audience of one..." The only One.

may your days be filled with moments of  supreme peace...

Kate
Kate Robertson, CS