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| Pismo Beach, California |
Follow the hands ...
When
I was studying to be a massage therapist I had a wise instructor who
encouraged her students to "make the massage their dance" - fluid,
flowing, and rhythmic movement. With these five words, she
encapsulated for me the "how" to do this work. There have been times
when providing massage I have gotten lost ... lost the rhythm - dancing
with my two left feet, or should I say hands. The way I find my
way back into the flow is to stop thinking and simply follow my hands.
Though we learn physiology and pathology in order to provide safe and
effective massage, it is not a brain-led modality. Massage, at its
essence, is heart-led via our hands.
Follow the heart ...
I
have been reading a fascinating book this summer about the heart
written by a psychoneuroimmunologist (long word, I know!!) In his book,
he proposes that in our science-based, brain-oriented western world we
have underestimated and devalued the capacity of our hearts. Seen
primarily as the body's pump by western medicine, we have yet to realize
its full capacity. By providing scientific research and anecdotal
information gained through interviews with heart-transplant patients and
their families, the author proposes that the heart, not just the
brain, is actually capable of thought, emotion, memory, and
communication with other hearts.
As a Christian, I am familiar with the concept of a knowing, feeling, and perceiving heart. In scripture the words spirit and heart
are often interchangeable. Much of my spiritual devotion is geared
toward discerning the rhythm of my heart - the inner man, as Paul refers
to it, where the Holy Spirit makes his abode. Jesus taught us in John
16 that the Holy Spirit would teach us and lead us into all truth; a
truth which encompasses our unique design and purpose for life on earth.
Listening, sensing, feeling, and learning to be led by the
heart/Spirit's movement is the pathway to life, the mark of Christian
maturity, and the channel through which heaven comes to earth.
However,
we humans live among the clatter. The clatter of the world, of our own
inner conflicts, and that of other voices ... all in competition for
our attention. Yesterday, I set my intention to write this missive. As
I unpacked my computer in a local cafe, I realized that I forgot my
ear-buds. Seated at a nearby table were a group of women discussing
marketing strategies for their business. As I tried to concentrate on
the voice of my own writing, it became impossible to filter out the one
voice in that group that rose above the others. This is a picture of
how the Spirit's voice, that still small voice located within the depth
of the human heart, gets drowned out. So loud is the world that we lose
our heart's rhythm and find ourselves living life with two left feet!
I
have to confess over the past years, I have often felt my life out of
sync. At times following the rhythm of my heart and others trying to
"figure" it all out. My western brain fretting, thinking, and running
on high octane. Even though I make regular time for prayer, scriptural
meditation, silence, and journaling, the disconnect between my heart and
my life has at times been torturous. Somewhere in my life, perhaps
rooted in my Catholic upbringing, or due to being raised in an alcoholic
family culture, or perhaps enduring a dysfunctional marriage for over
20-years, I built a high tolerance for suffering. I believe there is a legitimate theology for suffering - Jesus taught that we would suffer in this
world (it is after-all, a fallen world.) However, there is another type
of suffering ... the type that is toxic, the type that comes from a
false story we tell ourselves to help us cope and make sense of the pain
in our lives. This story placates us for a time, but like a band-aid
over an infected wound, it offers no true end to suffering.
For
the past 15-years I have had a longing in my heart for community.
Since the death of my mother, the dissolution of my marriage, and my
children's launch into adulthood, I haven't had a true sense of home or
belonging. Even though I moved back to the neighborhood I grew up in
after my divorce to live near my dad and raise my son, my heart has never been here. I
dislike the noise, the litter, and the carelessness in how people live.
I have tried over and over and over to fit in here, to be content and
find purpose, but my heart ....
Those who are my
closest companions and keepers of my heart's secrets could testify that
my prayers have been to be a part of a larger community of believers, in
which my heart could thrive and my gifts welcomed. I haven't found
that here, even though I have sought for it like the woman in the
parable searching for her lost coin.
So, I made a decision this
summer. A decision to follow my heart. To lay aside my plans and
human reasoning and to trust the Spirit of God is leading me through my
heart's desire. I have applied and been accepted into a 9-month
leadership program with IRIS Global. Heidi and Rolland Baker are the
founders of this powerful mission-oriented ministry head-quartered in
the African nation of Mozambique, but with bases throughout the world.
Heidi
is often considered a modern-day Mother Teresa. When I first heard her
speak in the mid 1990s I was struck by her deep compassion and
corresponding faith. She literally picks up starved and orphaned
children from the dumps of Mozambique and provides them with food,
faith, nurture, and love. This petite blonde-haired woman from Laguna
Beach has become my hero in the faith. In my hospice work as I would
walk the halls of the nursing homes, seeing our forgotten elders, I
would hear her voice, "Stop for the one, would somebody, please stop for
the one??"
Called to compassionate/healing work, I know that I
must locate myself within the greater body before I can reach my full
potential. I need a network, I need my tribe.
So, at the beginning of September I am leaving for IRIS' Pismo Beach base in California. There I will spend 9-months immersed in study, prayer, and ministry.
As when I get lost in my massage
work, I regain my rhythm by following my hands ... so with my life, I am
endeavoring to follow the rhythm of my own heart.
Musical Inspiration : California, Joni Mitchell
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