Tag: spirit

Words in Sentences

On Creative Commitment

by ErinLeave a Comment on On Creative Commitment

There have been a lot of sparks in my creative life – which seems promising and good. Yet, the way the landscape of my creative life looks has me curious for opportunity, wondering what is the right thing to spend my time on and curious – always – if “this is really going to work”.

I mentioned in a recent post about the comfort of talking about Spirit. Both @laughwithspirit and Fawn bring this comfortable reference to Spirit that serves my heart well – it feels like home right now more than any other word for God. But it is not complete. And I have been wrestling with that….

My friend Milta shared a post with me about the name of God, “Yahweh” and how the vowels were added for us to be able to pronounce however the name itself is “YH” and “WH”, which (get excited, yogis) are the sounds of breath… this idea of every inhale and exhale being the name of God is very powerful. And feeds what I teach in my Monday Night – prayer based yoga – where the sounds we make, as we exist as we move as we breathe – are the sounds from which the Spirit intercedes on our behalf. (Romans 8:26-27)

No more thinking about what to pray for, sigh – breathe – out from your shoulders and hips, etc.

This morning I started day three of a practice using graph paper to plot, note how I am doing in my healing journey and sit with the energy of the things before me: meetings with bookstores and arts organizations, serving my community, feeding my family, organizing big piles of shit somewhere, etc…

In this practice, I flip open scripture… First day was a fan favorite “Keep the heart with diligence” (Proverb 4:23), day two was a reminder that depression and anxiety settle in with an absence of the Spirit of God (thank you, 1 Samuel). Day two’s had me thinking – how do I nourish, invite, how do I charge and restore that spiritual alignment I long for – that feeling that makes me write? That makes me move?

How do I get back to times that have me soaking in hot water for 15 minutes to recharge my bones in between hosting family and leading workshops. I miss being used by God in that way, I guess.

Today’s practice flipped open to Haggai – never have read Haggai, tbh – and right away, I see this prophet as a prophet speaking to creatives, to the starving artists out there. The premise of the book is pretty simple: the temple was in ruins and the “Lord of hosts” (which translates as the Lord of angels, of stars – love it) is like “Hey, people, I see your houses look good and I hear you complaining that there is not more fruit in your life and let me just point out real quick that it’s because I don’t have a house and you aren’t giving me a place to dwell and so why don’t you go ahead and help a God out for a minute – build that temple – so that I can dwell and restore you.”

I sat in my bed with my graph paper, remembering my dad’s teaching to me of the Holy Spirit: the Holy Spirit is the God in you.

The Holy Spirit is the God in you.

Spirit – the Lord of Hosts – the breath of heaven – the patterns of nature – the stars and the sky, the oceans and the whales – exists with or without us. But believers in God, the believers in Spirit, we are the temples of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit exists because we do and bears the fruit of goodness, joy, love… of peace, patience and kindness… gentleness…. self control… faithfulness.

This practice in Haggai has me thinking about my own obedience in my creative life.

Today, I consider what needs to be built (written, drawn, etc) in commitment as a person within whom glory can dwell.

I intend on looking at my projects and really listening for the art that has been stirred… (“ur” in Hebrew… Haggai 1:14… as in how a eagle stirs up its nest or an instrument is stirred awake when it is tuned.)

I share all this for my artists out there – for my creatives out there – who may be feeling the starving artist part of life.

Or for the healers, lovers, mothers and friends out there – who may be feeling empty regardless of all the cups they fill in front of them.

I ask us – are we caring for our bodies / our personhood as a temple the Lord of the stars is eager to call home?

Are the molds we make in our art, in our relationships – are they made in a commitment for the Spirit to move within and throughout?

It is obvious, at least to me, the world needs us to be committed to seeing our making in this way.

For me, this surely has been a helpful reflection – nourishing and encouraging.

Happy Friday. (Happy Lunar Eclipse in Scorpio if that is your thing. )

<inahle> YH

<exhale> WH

erin

PS: None of this Biblical study could be done this fast and effectively without my Spirit Life Bible and I cannot stress enough, if you need a good Bible, this is one will be your jam – all of the content was written by leaders from all denominations.

From my fire last week, I burned the dozens of colorful flowers given to my daughter as I prayed for her on the day after her 18th birthday.
Words in Sentences

The More I Sit Here @ Deck Again on a Good Hair Day – Bellingham

by ErinLeave a Comment on The More I Sit Here @ Deck Again on a Good Hair Day – Bellingham

The only thing about the house here in Washington that is like a thing is that we are up high and can look over and down onto our neighbor’s backyard.

Gordina – a house back and over – has a lovely garden with an enviable rosemary bush raised up in the pnw sun and veggies all year round under tinted weathered prayer flags. She doesn’t live right behind us though.

A young family does.

I look over and see chairs in random spots, that their gymnasium was moved, toy miniature everything galore and actually I think like 3 slides. On nice nights when we are all living that pacific northwest life, eating outdoors or with windows open, we are within ear and eye shot of each other.

I write out here. Sit out here. Close my eyes out here. Work out here. And I have noticed lately that their baby is probably teething. Or growing. Lots of baby cries.

But the more I sit here, I am also noticing how extremely patient the mom is. Sigh.

Deep breath and smile.

I think she must be a really good mom.

She must be – I can tell by the lack of anxiety in the air that she doesn’t let the fact her neighbors can hear her child carrying on put pressure on her to “fix the child”. I think she knows deep down she simply has a baby and they – simply- are crying.

Unlike most mothers I know who hush their babies to the self detriment of their own sanity, I am pretty sure this mom is like cool with reality and knows she is not annoying me.

Additionally, I have been out on the deck a lot lately. August in Washington is like perfect satin jambinos after a salt bath soak and a face massage; so relaxing and happy stupor inducing. The more I have been here, the more I notice when they are not in their yard.

I wonder sometimes if it is nap time. Or if she is cooking.

I wonder if they went for an outing and I picture them at the bay or on a hike or at the market.

Maybe they went to Target and, if that is the case, I send prayers and helpers.

One of my favorite things about being a spiritual mom is remembering I can send helpers. A woman I studied with a couple of years ago in yoga teacher training told me I was a white witch. I thought nothing of it but then when I close my eyes and bring a person to the center of my mind (like my friend right now who is waiting to give birth) and send supreme love and guidance and comfort and help and support and strangers to offer pieces of gum or cashiers to smile in just that way – I think maybe I am magical.

Wouldn’t mind it :)

Sighhhhhh… the rental lady just left here and the papers are signed to list the house to rent. David looks handsome and is probably getting ready for me to fix dinner. I am super excited about progress on perfecting pizza dough. So we are doing greek pizza tonight. But with goat cheese and not feta. Yum. Can’t wait.

The breeze is so nice, I just want to stay in this cradle of an afternoon sun forever.

But. Kalamata olives are calling my name.

One more glance back and over the fence. Smiling. Hope she is doing good with her little ones… wherever that mama is…

Words in Sentences

5.1.20 On the Road

by Erin5 Comments on 5.1.20 On the Road

Started into a podcast this morning when Maddox, our youngest, asked for music for a little bit. He is so sweet, I obliged.

As I scrolled for a good easy song to play, I stumbled upon Oceans and said to David, “I think I’ll start us out with a little worship music.”

“I really don’t want to listen to worship music.” He said, with his loving laugh voice which I’m thankful exists.

“Well then that probably means you should” I say in my loving laugh voice which I’m also thankful exists. It was a sweet exchange.

I looked out the window at this beautiful sunny morning, headed into our 9 hour journey to Black Hills National Forest. My heart started to tremble:

// spirit lead me where my trust is without borders //

Listening to the repetition of the prayer while watching the landscape with the lingering smell of a PBJ in the truck cab (made for Aria) made me aware of this reality that I have been led to an adventurous man.

This commitment we are in has me on a roadtrip, through a part of the country I have never been in, using strengths my life has equipped me for (like making three kids comfortable in a backseat and making sandwiches from a front seat – wrapped in a folded napkin with a quick scribble note to the recipient on it) and in a landscape of people so wide and deep that the only realistic expectation I can have of myself to help guide and mother is to stay present. To pay attention.

When I consider the whole of all that is on my mind and heart and how much is unknown, I am led just to consider its opposite: “known”.

I considered seasons of “known” (where nothing major was in question or in flux) and realized those seasons were seasons of plans, concrete planning or where plans were in motion.

If what is “known” means to me that I know the plan then, very much so, my life right now is “on the fly”. Big stuff: I don’t know what June looks like, yes. But even daily stuff like tomorrow night, I’m sleeping “in Montana”.

I did a little word math, a way I journal to try and make sense of complex ideas, to find my center. And I saw quickly that living “on the fly” and living “planned” have the same root: my intention.

If living present, per my true honest root, my intention, I believe, would not make my plan that much different than what I would come up with in a split decision. Said another way, what I come up with in a split decision is probably similar to what I would have planned… I think this is where the lyrics got me, spirit lead me where my trust is without borders.

Maybe living spirit led allows them to be the same: making plans and winging it. Just like Covid changed the best of plans, a boon can change the worst of winging it. If you’re true to your intention, to being spirit led, your trust is without borders.

To close, I’m stunned at how much of my life with David rings true to what I am accustomed to – like long road trips and lots of people – while also having me in unknown territory where I am reminded to rely heavily on the spirit. In yoga, we call this the balance between effort and ease – and when we find this place, we have just the right amount of tension to grow and explore newness with just the right of softness to trust and relax. It’s humbling: how simple the complexities of life can be.

Lots of love. :) me

Iowa. <shrug>