Among Women

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[Note: This is a repost of yesterday’s. I decided to divide it into two posts – one the actual reflection on the readings and the second to come later this week on the art project and what each item means to me and to the overall design.]

Today was the second of four weeks spent reflecting on women in the Gospel and the Gospel Women in our midst. We begin each week with a prayer, and are given a glimpse of the two women we will be reading about and reflecting on as the week goes by. We think about last week’s two women and then create art as reflection of them. Or, as I hash-tagged it on Instagram, #artastheology.

I often talk about how I use writing in many ways, including as therapy, and as theology, reflection, meditation. I would claim myself not to be an artist, but in the few retreats that I’ve been fortunate enough to be a part of led by artist, Brother Mickey McGrath, I’ve discovered a calmness from the act of coloring, and that has led to simple drawings, tracings, and copying. You can see some of my work on the pages of my website. I’ve tried to stop demeaning my art as an example to my son, who has the potential to be a true artist. He has the talent for it.

We’re supposed to reflect on them through the week, but it wasn’t until this morning that I connected to the Bent Over Woman and the Syrophoenician Woman. I sometimes have trouble connecting to parables and the abstract as well as picturing myself in ancient Jerusalem. I can also see things a little too literally. I’m not bent over, so what do I have in common with her? We don’t really know anything else about her.

But I recognized myself in her quiet; her being there, but not there for anyone else, unnoticeable, unimportant. Jesus doesn’t wait until he’s called upon; he takes the initiative, he heals her, and that’s all. It’s done.

With the Syrophoenician woman, she is there for her daughter. Jesus tells her no. She’s not one of his people, and he’s not going to help her. She talks back to him. She tells him, no, you will listen to me. She stays polite, she makes her point, and he rethinks his position. Maybe he admires her persistence, her love for her child; maybe even her impertinence.

This shows me once again that we have the ability to see ourselves in these women. We hear their stories but do we really hear them? How long does it take for us to listen?

There are women throughout the Gospel. Jesus surrounded himself with women; they were his disciples. Mary Magdalene was the first person to report the Good News. Most of the women in the Gospels aren’t named; only a handful of them, and each of them, named and unnamed,  have something to teach us, to show, to tell.

These four weeks are opening our group up to us as Gospel women and reminding us of the women in our midst who embody the Gospel, Jesus’ words, His Word, and his example.

When we were “dismissed” to begin our art project, we were introduced to the items we could choose from. How will our art reflect the two readings (The Bent-Over Woman and The Syrophoenician Woman) and how are we reflected in them and with the art items?

Piles of letters, feathers, fabric, words, magazines. All things that look like nothing until we choose what appeals to us, and make it into something of our very own. No formal direction, no preconceptions, just letting the spirit work.

One of the items I chose were puzzle pieces; they were there to represent that everything fits together,  it is all connected and interconnected, and after I decided on them, I remembered my words on my prayer bead: Connect, Interconnect.

It really is all connected.

[NOTES: The Bent-Over Woman (Luke 13:10-17), The Syrophoenician Woman (Mark 7:24-30)]

My Everlasting Gobstopper Prayer Bead (Title Change)

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Today was week one of a four week mini-retreat I guess I’d call it. I hadn’t realized that there was an art component, but Brother Mickey and my son’s hesitation to explore his own talent has me stepping out more and more in the artistic realm. It’s not museum quality, but I’ve been pretty happy with what I’ve worked on.

The theme for the four weeks is exploring and meditating on the women of the Gospel as well as the Gospel women in our own lives. We all know them, and this series of exercises will let us dwell on them and ourselves with the guidance of the women mentioned in Scriptures.

Every week we will hear two readings and have the week to think on them. Lecto Divinia was mentioned as a tool which is one that I enjoy. When we return, we’ll talk about our week away and work on some kind of art that reflects our reflections.

Today, being the first day, we reflected on why we’ve come to this type of workshop and we set out to make a prayer bead. It’s not quite a bead. Some of us went long like a rosary. Some of us made necklaces, bracelets, danglies, and whatever else struck our fancy.

Mine is a necklace that i’ll wear the next four weeks, and then I will probably convert it to a danglie.

It’s something tangible to hold onto while I’m reflecting or meditating or sit next to my keyboard while I’m writing.

I anchored mine with a bell. I like d the idea of a little bit of noise in the silence of meditating.

Today’s silence was a bit too relaxing – I think I fell asleep. No one said anything, but I still feel as though I missed some parts of the talking bits.

When mine was finished, it reminded me of an everlasting gobstopper. Watch Willy Wonka making them, and then look at my photos from this morning.

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Pilgrimage in the Year of Mercy

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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. I touched on the idea of what a pilgrimage is a few weeks ago, and as I proceed through this holy year, I’m still wondering.

I have several plans that involve retreats and learning; contemplation and writing, and I’m not sure where one activity ends and one begins.

Is that a pilgrimage? A retreat? A holiday?

And where does mercy fit in?

I honestly don’t know, and part of this year for me is looking for my own form of mercy; for me.

I’m much better at giving mercy to others, forgiving and letting things go, but I still haven’t done my pre-Easter penance for reconciliation, not because it’s too hard, but because it involves another person and that is the hardest thing to ask of me.

So I ask you:

What does this mean for me in particular as I take my retreats this year, and sort of a partial pilgrimage?

Or just wander through my notebook and my Kindle finishing projects and beginning others?

At the end of this holy year, will I have traveled enough to find my mercy?

Our parish is one of the lucky ones that is not a cathedral, but still has a Holy Door to enter. I’ve walked through it once, earlier in the year, simply as an introduction to myself and to G-d of my intentions, but I will be going through it again after some prayer and meditation.

It gives me joy to see it whenever I go to my church, and it also gives me the reminder that the year is not over yet. I still have time to find my way, and my way begins through that door.

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Pilgrimage

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Is a retreat a pilgrimage? What about the reverse? Is a pilgrimage a retreat? They can be. They can also not be. Is a road trip a pilgrimage?

For a long time, I assumed that pilgrimage meant spiritual and/or religious. In looking back over my more focused travels, I’ve taken historical pilgrimages, writing pilgrimages, and nature ones. I never looked at them that way before. Everywhere I went in those instances (an in many others) always included writing. Notebooks came with me. Notebooks, journals, and my camera. Now, I will sometimes bring a sketchbook, like this past weekend retreat, but as opposed to the notebooks which is second nature I have to be conscious of packing a sketchbook and colored pencils. Drawing will never feel second nature to me, but it is something that doesn’t intimidate me as much as it used to.

While I’ve been writing this, I have come to the realization that a pilgrimage can sometimes include a retreat, but they are two different things.

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On Retreat – Welcome –

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The plans I had for posting this week kind of got away from me. Every day I stated something that I wanted to share, but then never got the keyboard out. Then there were family obligations and therapy and packing for my retreat, which I’m on right now.

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a travel piece on what items tend to be forgotten. Well, here I am traveling and I’ve managed to forget things I actually needed: my eyeglass case for my glasses to sleep in, a laundry bag, a. nightlight, which this room really does need, and a hairbrush which the mirror in my room will attest to how much that was needed this morning.

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Choices

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I’m beginning my year by finishing some of my projects from the end of the last one. Right before Thanksgiving, I made my final list for the things that needed to get done  for the next three holidays and the end of the year: Gifts to buy, gifts to wrap, teachers’ gifts, mail carrier, hairdresser, my priest, baking, Thanksgiving dinner, Chanukah, latkes, Christmas dinner, Christmas Masses, school responsibilities, holiday cards, clean the house, grocery shopping, and oh yeah, I’ve got that retreat at the Dominican Center exactly between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Too many things to do. Something had to give. I needed this retreat. It was not only spiritual, it was a writing retreat. It was the very things I needed at this time of year, my everything, but did I really have the time for it?

Baking. I decided quite dramatically to skip baking this year. How would the holiday season go on without home baked goods for the teachers and Fr. J and F and the kids?

And then something happened.

It wasn’t that I didn’t care anymore, but…

I. Didn’t. Care. Anymore.

In a good way.

I tried it on for size a couple of times, and made sure that my family knew my intentions. I would not be baking. Except…except for Santa; no cookies, no breads, no nuts, and no caramel. And believe it or not, I was okay with it. I really was.

Not only was this writing retreat exactly what I needed and wanted and longed for, I got more out of it than I expected or could have hoped for.

The quiet inspiration of the poem that prompted us. The prayers. The new friend(s). The peace. There was not a moment all weekend that did not speak to me and reward me for making this choice.

Over the weekend, I was introduced to an inspirational speaker, Rob Bell. His videos are very inspirational and thought-provoking and thoughtful. So much to think about and meditate on. One of those videos was Shells. Please follow the link – it is well worth your ten minutes.

Spoilers to follow: Listening to him talk about the shells and his son’s frustration at not being able to grasp the starfish because his hands were full of shells – well, that moment was like a hammer to my head. My eyes welled up with tears with the pronouncement, no the admission to myself that you can’t do everything. Even if you want to do it or it’s the good thing that you’ve been waiting to do, you can’t do it all.

Choices must be made, and the realization that my no baking mantra of the previous two weeks was more than selfish, it was more than for me, it was important. The revelation that I had made the right choice, and that I could do it again was overwhelming and freeing.

Writing Retreat Weekend, Day 2

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Outside
I took a quick walk around the front of the retreat center. It was a beautiful day, and I should have walked more than I did, but my legs have been giving me a lot of trouble this weekend. I’m not sure why, so with Christmas in just about two weeks, I had better play it safe.

The sun was bright, the sky that perfect blue. I had intended to wander down to this cross that was carved out of the tree stump, but they’ve removed all of the benches. I’m assuming that is to get the grounds ready for winter.

However, that didn’t stop me from checking this out and another tree stump on my way back up to the picnic table. I sat out there reading for a bit, and was so enthralled with what I was reading that the retreat director had to come out and get me for lunch!

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We continued our writing with courage and hope. There are so many things that I’m feeling. Talking to my tablemates and hearing different things from the video (Rob Bell – I believe you can look him up on You Tube) and the musical selections like Star Child by David Haas.

I’m hoping this weekend gives me the push and the anchor that gets me through the rest of the year.

Writing Retreat Weekend, Day 1

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Day 1 is really one session in the evening. We arrive after we have our own dinners, get our name tags, meet the retreat director, and get our first prompt: tenderness.

I have finally accepted the free-writing, stream of consciousness form as my go-to for a first draft. I’ve only been doing it for about three years; it’s about time I got used to it.

I spent twenty minutes writing about my daughter and pajamas and shopping in Target. I will share another time how that adds up to tenderness.

All of our prompts will be based on what M has written on the white board:

What is Christmas?

It is tenderness for the past
courage for the present
hope for the future
and that every path may lead to peace.

-Agnes M. Pharo

The Scripture read  in regards to this prompt was of the Visitation when pregnant Mary visits her pregnant cousin Elizabeth. Remember that Elizabeth is the mother of John the Baptist.

We are in a Dominican Retreat House, so there is definitely a spiritual tone to everything we do this weekend. To be honest, spirituality and writing are the two things that can be brought to anything else; to everything else.

I’m going to retire early – the rising bell rings at 7:45 in the morning. I’ve also want to get back to the First Book of the Macabees, which I’ve been reading today (it is Chanukah after all), and I’d like to finish it. I’m also in the middle of an historical account of four women soldiers/spies during the Civil War as well.

I’m not relaxed per se, but I’m also not thinking about what I need to do between now and Christmas Eve. I think I’ve got it handled. And if I don’t my elves at home will be happy to help me. I have confidence in them.

Tomorrow brings French toast for breakfast, two writing sessions, a walk around the grounds and Mass. There is a cross with a bench for meditation that I’d like to sit by with my journal. I also have my sketchbook and my colored pencils, so I may foray into a little drawing.

I’m alone on this side of the building, but I’m muddling through the anxiety. It’s a lovely room. It reminds me of the hostel in Manchester, England that I stayed at without the underlying prison cell feel. This room actually feels much more comfortable. There’s a bed, a gold upholstered chair that rocks – it reminds me of my Aunt Goldie’s house. There is also a desk and adjacent to the closet is a sink with towels and a mirror. Plenty of light and a Bible round out the place.

I feel good about this retreat weekend.