retreat

The Best Laid Plans

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I’m on retreat this weekend. The subject is Wise and Holy Women. I had intended to make two posts or so this weekend, but G-d had other plans. When I  unpacked I  discovered that I did not have my keyboard. 

On Sunday, I  will write the twelfth week of the new 52 which was supposed to appear here today. Week 12 is a person, Brother Mickey McGrath, oblate and artist. He is our retreat director. He is wonderful and I will tell you of his influence on me over the last few years, opening my heart and creativity. 

In the meantime, follow the link in his name and look at his beautiful and spiritual art. 

Until next time, 

Blessings

A Spiritual Marathon

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​I had expected to be able to post throughout this week, but unfortunately this is probably the busiest week of Lent for me. Until next week that is. As I mentioned to my priest last night, it’s all good busy, but this morning I was beyond exhausted. I stayed in bed an extra hour until my headache subsided, and now I’m slowly getting ready for today.

As part of my Lenten journey this year, in going to the desert figuratively, and finding my own wilderness, I have taken on many spiritual projects that are dear to me. It was fortunate that my local retreat center had so many sessions and experiences to choose from.

I have been keeping a Lenten journal since Ash Wednesday, and I have been loving it. From the feel of the pen gliding across the paper to the beautiful green Celtic designed journal itself, it has given me a feeling of purpose that I will try to continue, although not daily, throughout the spring and summer, and perhaps convert it to an Advent journal later in the year. Continue reading

Ruth 1:1-18

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One of the retreats I’m on this month is a weekly group. I had done this before with New Testament Women and this session is Old Testament Women.

We pray at the beginning, and then collage from our personal reflections on the two readings, then we share our art, and read the next two for the following week using Lecto Divina. I’ve talked about Lecto Divina in the past. I had been using this technique since I began reading Scripture, but I didn’t realize it had a formal name. It was just something I did.

Today’s class was canceled due to our snowstorm, and will be held next week, but I still wanted to re-read and reflect on these two women today: Naomi and Ruth.

Ruth has always been a favorite verse of mine. I always had a connection to her for some reaosn. One thing I discovered in the reading last week was how much of a Hufflepuff she was. Loyal to her adopted family, her kindness, her friendship with her mother-in-law, even her friendship with her sister-in-law. She’s faithful. Once she married Naomi’s son, she became a permanent part of her family.

She couldn’t state it any simpler: Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you lodge, I will lodge.

Her determination and loyalty really stand out, both as things I strive for, and as part of that Harry Potter house.

See? Everything is connected and interconnected.

3/8 – Pilgrimage

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​”This (Holy Year) is the opportune moment to change our lives!” the pope has said. “This is the time to allow our hearts to be touched!…May pilgrimage be an impetus to conversion.”

 – Pope Francis

 This is what Pope Francis said when he opened up this Jubilee Holy Year of Mercy. He also mentioned that a pilgrimage would be equally beneficial closer to home if a trip to Rome wasn’t possible.

That intrigued me, and I began to think about pilgrimage in a more tangible, more accessible way.

In a mere five weeks,  we are coming to the conclusion of that Extraordinary Jubilee Year.

In some ways, I have done much towards creating a better understanding of mercy – for myself and for others. I have also reflected much more on forgiveness – again, both for myself and for others.

It took me some time to initially walk through our Holy Door; to feel as though I were ready; worthy of the entrance. I didn’t want to rush through and have it be done, like a ticky box to b checked. I wanted to discern and meditate on what it meant, and perhaps that meant that I would never walk through the portal.

I’ve written before about how I did finally reach a moment to enter, and then a second moment. When our family went on a short holiday to Niagara Falls, I wanted to go to reconciliation and to enter through the Holy Door with prayer and reflection before our journey.

Niagara Falls is one of those places that I grew up visiting and loved as a child, and that I eventually shared with my husband and later with my oldest son. Now, I was going to share it with my two younger children, but I was also going to see the magnificent and powerful falls with new eyes; eyes that had been touched by G-d and by faith.

I had spent much of my year of mercy as a spiritual pilgrim, going to places that struck me as important on my journey. Sometimes that was as simple as sitting in Starbucks or outside on a bench with a cool breeze waving my hair around.

Sometimes, it was taking a week in the spring to visit some local historical places, taking my camera and my journal and discovering new things about the places, the people, and myself despite my lack of stamina.

I went to the Shrine of the North American Martyrs, wandering in the rain, praying, and just being in the stillness of such a place of faith.

I joined three ministries at church; things that I felt a calling to, in education, in adult faith formation, and in service. Time is short, but I’m working through the process of balancing it all. 

I went on two weekend and one four-week retreats that reenergized me, and my creative spirit was able to blend with my faithful spirit. It gave meaning to the Scriptures and the environment, and propelled me forward and given me strength.

My pilgrimage of writing has been equally in the forefront and as important as my spiritual pilgrimage. I am always on the path of a pilgrim, whether I write about it or not. It is who I am.

This year of mercy will remain with me much longer than the physical year.

Food

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No matter what plans you have, kids or no kids, they almost always revolve around food. Food sustains us, but it also holds so much more. Comfort food is called that for a reason. Comfort food contains the five senses within it plus a sixth: memory.

When I’m eating sweet potatoes slathered in butter – real butter, stick butter, not spreadable canola, but real, all I can think of is sitting up in my parents’ bed, sick, and this was my medicine. The sweet flesh sweeter than any candy, the soft mash letting me eat and swallow without any work or pain whatsoever. Were they sweet potatoes or yams? How was I supposed to know?! I was 11 or something. It was better than chicken soup, and less messy in bed besides. Then, drifting off to sleep with the empty plate still on my lap. Empty because the potato skin is just as yummy as the rest of it. It was the one little kid yuck that I didn’t mind; eating the potato skins long before potato skins became its own food group.

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A Mini Writing Retreat

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Never make plans. They never work out. Actually, that’s not entirely true. I planned a mini-retreat for this week. Take some time for myself to get my head on straight and my spirit centered before the kids are home for the summer. I planned for the part of the week after Memorial Day since there was only one appointment on my calendar and no school obligations after everyone went back to school and work after the Memorial Day holiday. Our house has been pretty clutter-free for the past couple of weeks, so I enjoy being there again. I mentioned to my husband last week while I was sitting in my corner office that I didn’t want to leave the house. I really liked being there. But let’s be real, if I stay home to write, I’d end up watching Supernatural or The Walking Dead reruns on Netflix. I have the rest of the month for that.

I started thinking about what I wanted to do this week and separately what I wanted to accomplish. I’d attend Mass on Tuesday and Wednesday. I’ve been missing the daily masses both by not attending and also missing them deeply. I’d start my day with G-d, leaving the house at 8:30 and planning to return by 3 when the kids came home from school. It sounds like a good plan, doesn’t it?


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National Train Day

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Yesterday was National Train Day. This was a holiday created by Amtrak in 2008. Held on the Saturday. nearest May 10th it was a way for Amtrak to show the benefits of railway travel. May 10th was chosen as it’s the anniversary of the pounding of the Golden Spike in Promontory, Utah, marking the completion of the first transcontinental railroad in the United States.

Growing up in Queens and Long Island, we traveled by subway on school trips and the LIRR on visits to NYC, especially during the Christmas season. Between Thanksgiving and New Year’s, it’s kind of an amazing time to be in NYC. Rockefeller Center, Broadway, Macy’s window displays; so much and so beautiful. It’s the perfect complement to the winter wonderland on a greeting card.

I’ve traveled by commuter rails on various vacations. We’ve stayed on the outskirts and taken public transit into the cities of Toronto, Boston, Washington, DC, and of course, NYC. Those trains are a great convenience, and a great value as well.

As a kid, my family took us to Strasburg, PA to ride the railroad through Amish country. When my kids were young, we took them there also. They loved the trains. I think all kids do. My kids, especially my two boys, were big on the Thomas trains. we had a pretty large set when they were younger.

A few years ago, I took my first long distance train trip from my home in upstate New York to Williamsburg, VA. it was a little nerve-wracking with the packing, the tickets, the layover in Penn Station and all that on top of my regular anxiety. I thought it would be the same as air travel, and I packed similarly with the clear plastic bags, one personal bag, small bottles of liquids, but it was actually very different.

The one thing I was told by the friend I was visiting was to only bring what you can carry yourself. If it’s too heavy or awkward to get in and out of the car at the train station, then it’s too heavy or awkward to bring with you. you have to be able to life your bag over your head and put it in the luggage rack. There was a lower section, but you had to be one of the first onboard to git your bag in there.

One of the most noticeable differences on the train was the bigger seat and huge (by comparison) amount of leg room. The bathrooms were also larger, and didn’t make me feel self-conscious about accidentally knocking the door open while I was using it.

The windows are large enough to see the scenery. My trip seemed to follow the coast line. There was a lot of water on the side until we got past Richmond, and then it filled in with trees and greenery. At one point, we paused in a town where I think we were blocking traffic. You could see the houses lining the street of this quaint, southern village.

From my seat, I could see the Washington Monument and the Capitol Building.

It was so much less stressful than flying. It was almost like driving except I could sleep part of the way. It was quiet for the most part. Sometimes, you could eavesdrop on someone’s conversation and that was entertainment enough. There was working WiFi so I was pretty well set, not to mention my journal writing and note-taking for future trips as well as for travel posts. Like this one.

On a recent retreat that I put together for myself, I started my week at our local Amtrak station. I wasn’t going anywhere, but I had my messenger bag, my kindle, my Father James Martin Together on Retreat book, and my camera. It gave me the illusion of traveling without actually leaving town. It was symbolic for the start of my do-it-myself retreat. I think I will use that technique again this year when the time comes for me to look inward.

The trains give me that solitude without being alone; without the loneliness or aloneness. It’s the opportunity to be by yourself without being by yourself. It’s like a nightlight in a darkened room. It’s a candle in the night.

And with that last cliche, the last train has left the station. Tell me your train stories in the comments below.

Reflection on the Art

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The third week came faster than I expected. I was running late, flustered, settling my crap, grabbing my tea, dropping my keys, but once I sat in the circle it all went away.

Calmness overtook everything.

Despite my backache and my knee being difficult, I sunk into the chair, and all that was there from that moment on was the group of women and the Gospel women from our readings.

I am loving the collages. I didn’t even realize that I focused on the woman who anoints Jesus until I started talking about my design and the addition of the tea.

Since I’ve done two collages already with the reddish-brown board, so I’ve already decided to use the same board for my third and final art thingy.

I can kind of envision them set up 1-2-3 in a row in my office. I do need to redo. my mantle so these may fit in with that opportunity.

In looking at the two side by side, I am already planning some aspects of next week’s art.

The readings are Martha and Mary (Luke 10:38-42) and the Women at the Foot of the Cross (John 19:25-30). My mind has already gone to the women at the cross. The women are always present. The disciples are in hiding but not the women. Part of that reaon is that women are invisible. They are not thought of as a threat or of any kind of importance and so they are ignored.

More importantly, though, they are witnessed. They are the ones to tell the story; the history of the Christ. His Mother Mary gave him life, and Mary Magdalene was the first to see him after the Resurrection and was the one to carry the story to the disciples.

They are the storytellers, like I am with my writing.

It hit me while I was eating lunch after the third week’s group that my boards are connected through my writing and the last reading – the women at the cross – the storytellers are the beginnings of writing – the oral storytellers that pass it down for generations until someone finally wrote it down.

In addition to the reddish board, I’m thinking of using the yellow ribbon, a feather to make a quill and possibly another black and yellow butterfly wing to tie all three boards together.

I will definitely share it next week after our last session.

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Among Women – My Board

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When I had included this as part of my reflection on the Gospel Women readings, I found that it just didn’t flow the way I wanted it to, and I realized that it was due in part because it really should have been more of a bullet point or list of what I chose and why I chose it. Looking at the original bowl of items and board to use for the collage, I am struck by how it went from nothing to something so magnificent. I really love the finished product. Despite being unfinished in some ways, adding more would take away from what it’s expressing.

In looking back at the process, I can safely say that I practically put it together in the order that I gathered the items. Not entirely, and in my “first draft”, I did move things around, although, again it is nearly identical to the original concept that I laid out before the adhesives.

1. Our board choices were very simple: white, black or reddish-brown. As you can see I took the reddish brown one. I thought that white was too stark and black was too dark, and I usually stay away from reds. I took that one to be a bit bolder than I usually am. This retreat house is where I do most of my artistic work, from the mandala weekend to an illuminated initial at the most recent weekend; it is where I always bring my sketchbook and colored pencils. I think the space is welcoming so that I feel that I can attempt art safely whereas I can write anywhere.

2. I wasn’t sure about the butterfly wings. They are real wings, taken from the Conservatory where the butterflies lived their whole lives. No butterflies were harmed in the collection of their wings. My mother used to love butterflies, and I would get her some sort of butterfly thing – pin, notebook, trinket box for her birthday, Christmas/Chanukah, and Mother’s Day. Consequently, when she died, I got her collection, and seeing butterflies makes me think of her, so I’m drawn to them. In the little plate, there were beautiful, bright blue ones that I believe come from the Karner Blue Butterfly, a local variety in the Albany Pine Bush. There was also a bright orange and black dotted one that I think was a Monarch. The one I chose was yellow with black. Everyone thinks bumble bee with those colors, but for me, they are Hufflepuff, my Harry Potter house. They speak to me of loyalty, and friendship, perseverance, and strength. They are courage and truth. They are also a visual reminder of my being brought back to writing and the internet community that held me, supported me, and welcomed me, and who continues to give me the gift of friendship and creativity. So much from such a little wing.

*One thing that struck me about my collage was that I am a very symmetrical person, and there is nothing in this grouping that is symmetrical. I chose one wing rather than two. In my mind, it seems odd, but looking at it, it is perfect.

3. I glanced at the pile (very large pile) of magazines and newspapers taking up a third of the table. The word travel caught my eye, and that was all I was going to take, but then the subtitle, 4 Life-Changing Journeys drew my eye. I was going to take travel and journeys, but then the whole phrase – 4 life-changing journeys – really grabbed me, not only as something I’ve been feeling this year and last, but also as a fantastic writing prompt to use in future days. What four life-changing journeys have I been on in recent years? What a perfect way to organize some thoughts, and so I took the whole thing. I tore the small rectangle out and put the magazine back in the pile. Before I could move off, I noticed another article about 50 tips to feel amazing. It had to do with getting healthy and avoiding chronic illnesses such as diabetes and high blood pressure, but it was the 50 that took me by the hand. I will be turning fifty at the end of the year, and one of my goals is to write weekly reflections. I’ve been somewhat neglectful, but the number, bold and in red, needed to come. I tore off the whole cover and thought to look at it more closely. It wasn’t until I was back at my seat that I noticed the tagline of the magazine: Real Possibilities. I cut out possibilities and I had all the words I thought I would need.

4. Wherever, whatever I’m doing, I’m attracted to my favorite color green, and the puzzle pieces had them in abundance. I didn’t look at the finished puzzle on the box cover, but I took a few pieces that might fit together; they probably wouldn’t but they only needed to look as if they might. I like puzzle pieces. They come apart easily, but also go back together just as easily. They connect, and if connected the right way, they create a path to a finished product. I took a few, and then went back for a couple more, having six in all. There was no meaning to having six, and one was more yellow than green or blue, but it was something I needed to have for my board.

**My board was supposed to be a reflection of the two Gospel women we’d thought about all week. I was drawn to a different suggestion by Sister Sue and that was how I was related to them, how I saw myself, and this became more of a vision board or a me board – things I am, things I want to be, things that can be, a positive meditation.

5. When I excitedly approached the Scrabble tiles, I was looking for a K, my first initial. When I got there, I began to touch the tiles, turning them over to see which letters were available. I stopped looking for the K, and began to think about the reflections and the readings, and I don’t know why but I wanted Writer. It wouldn’t let go. It wasn’t until I returned to my seat to lay out the board that I moved the R off to the side. The question arose in the design: Am I a writer? Is it more important to be a WRITER? Or is it more important to do the writing regardless of status? Being a writer is something important – being published, being liked, but the writing calls to me. It is always there; it has always been there.

6. The foam stars and circles were just fun. I definitely only wanted green and yellow. The foam is squishy, and somehow childlike. I am also reminded of the stars and the moon in the sky. I have a real affinity for the full moon shining down on me as I sleep.

*** Last summer I tried to do something like this with my two youngest kids. I picked out fabric and doodads. I had them pick some out as well. We did it on cork with pushpins. It was nice for about a day and a half, and then they all fell apart. After this experience, I may try and do it again with them using glue instead of the tacks. They enjoyed it, and it expressed who they are and their likes and dislikes.

7. Of course, I found some butterfly cutouts from a greeting card. The same as the wing, they are for my mother, and the nature of the butterfly. Their freedom, their color, their strength amidst their delicateness.

8. The fabrics. The blue bud surrounded by the green spidery leaves matched one of the butterflies on the card. I knew I only wanted two buds. I don’t know why. I usually take things in threes or fours. The green fabric had leaves and sticks crisscrossing each other. I began to cut out a pile of sticks in that crisscross, campfire pattern when I noticed that the sticks made a K. I had found my initial after all, so I cut it and placed it in the upper left hand corner. I toyed with the idea of outlining it in a green Sharpie, but I decided to simply leave it as is. I knew what it was. Most people would notice the letter K. I liked it’s surprise and it’s simplicity. I added one larger leave in the lower right hand corner from the same fabric.

****When I got home, there was a parcel waiting for me – my always keep fighting shirt. This one offers to love yourself first. Much like on an airplane when the oxygen mask comes down, you put it on yourself so you can help others. It’s also important to not forget that we are important. Me. I am important and I am valued, and deserve some time to take care of me. That is why I go on these retreats, these reflective workshops. I have also been reading Pope Francis’ The Joy of Love, his newest exhortation and in around the third or fourth chapter, he expresses this very thing – love yourself first. That isn’t to say be selfish, but be who you are and love that person.

9. To the fabric, I added the green feather. I’m often attracted to feathers. They fall off birds, they are added onto Native American garments and mean many things. I have some feathers on my dream catcher that my friend gifted me with. Feathers are also used as fletches for arrows and as a Sagittarius, I try to follow the bow. The arrow is also known for flying straight, finding its mark, and not leading us astray.

10. I don’t think there was a concrete reason for taking the green straw. I hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to glue down, but I wanted it. Maybe it is something of nest building. perhaps it is taking something that is not much of anything and turning it into something of beauty and reflected joy.I don’t know, but I also don’t think the the board would work without it.

****So much from so many littles.

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Gospel Women – Week 3

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Today is the third week of the retreat workshop/contemplation/art commune that I’ve been taking. We spend the week reading and thinking about the two women, and then after a short discussion, we art.

I’d like to share with you the readings for anyone that was interested in doing this at home.

The first woman of the Gospel is the woman caught in adultery. The reading can be found at John 8:1-11.

Our second woman is the woman who anoints Jesus in Bethany. That Scripture can be found at Mark 14:3-9.

Later this afternoon or tomorrow, I’ll share what  came about in today’s hands-on portion.

What Ihave found in the past two weeks and four readings thus far is that we can not only see ourselves in these Gospel women, but often we see the women around us, who encourage us to look at things a little differently and who love and support us. I can only hope to be one of those women to someone else.