December 29, 2013

"The best laid plans"

An article I wrote for our L'Arche Atlanta Fall 2013 newsletter:

                In our weekly planning meeting, it was decided that something free and fun would fit the bill for Saturday.  Sara suggested Sweetwater Park, just a 20-minute drive from home, with a relatively wide, flat, short trail to an old mill – a spot that she’s wanted to show the house for a long time. 
John, Terry, and I weighed in, and everyone seemed gung-ho for this adventure.  (Patrick and Tim were out of town.)  And thus, we had made plans.
                Saturday morning came, and I looked at the forecast.  Chance of rain was to increase throughout the day, so we decided to go first thing after breakfast. 
                It was already drizzly, so I grabbed my raincoat and prompted everyone else to grab theirs – “just in case.”  Everyone did so without batting an eye.
                As we approached the exit for Sweetwater Park in the pouring rain, Sara said from the driver’s seat, “You know, this may have been a good day to do something indoors, like use those free movie passes.” 
I looked over and said, “Sara.  We.  Are planners.”  Indeed, we have a house full of people who love plans.  It had not quite occurred to anyone that we might change the plans for the day. 
                We were 20 minutes from home at this point, so we decided to drive into the park and assess from there.  It was certainly not too late to make our way to the movie theater. 
                We pulled up and decided the rain was light enough to go in to the Interpretive Center.  We checked out exhibits of taxidermied animals, sustainable building practices, and history of the mill. 
                And then we checked in with each other - to continue with our adventure or head home?  John, who needs to take special care with his knees, gave a green light.  Terry was, without surprise, a “go” for “going” – especially outdoors.  Sara would hike on any day, rain or shine.  And I was ready and willing to see how far the trail and our energies would take us.  So we continued with Sara as our guide, John our pacesetter, myself the songleader, and Terry protectively rounding out the rear. 
                We made our way, noticing trees and plants, singing songs, and getting wet.  We arrived at a curve in the trail with a big body of water, paused to take in the view, and kept walking.  Soon, John said “I’m ready to turn around.”  So we promptly made a 180 and headed back.

               As our little house of 6 people continues to live the journey of daily life together, we are becoming a community.  We are learning about ourselves, one another, and how to go about all of this – together.  And we’re growing as we courageously follow these learnings.  Our adventure at Sweetwater Park revealed to me with gentle humor, both the courage and the attentiveness it takes for us to move forward on this journey.  

November 4, 2013

weasels and geese 2: geese

Another lovely sharing from Team Leaders Circle (TLC) retreat.

I went to TLC last fall and went again this fall.  Both years, we have been greeted with special poems (and candy!) on our beds.  

This year there was a lovely poem by Mary Oliver, from her book Dream Work, called "Wild Geese."  
It reads:

You do not have to do good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
     love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, 
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting - 
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Like the weasel story, this poem reminds us humans that we are animal.  If only we could remember that more often.  Listen to your body.  If only we didn't have to forget and remember to listen to our bodies and to follow our "single necessity."  

"You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves."  

And again, back around to calling.  "...the world...calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting - over and over announcing your place in the family of things."  

We belong - we are a part of "the family of things."  

And I love the "harsh and exciting" call of the geese.  In recent years, I've learned of the Celtic representation of the Holy Spirit as Wild Goose.  


I find this a particularly lovely representation of the Holy Spirit.  A bit more concrete and less mysterious than wind or fire, but just as wild and unpredictable.  I like the honking, obnoxious nature of the goose too.  And goose poo? Gross.  But part of the way of things.  We all poop.  We are interconnected with the world.  

I had an encounter with geese last summer when I visited with my friends in Knoxville.  We went camping and floated the river - the Tennessee maybe?  I had never done this before.  We all had tubes and floated our way down a small piece of the river, careful to raise our rear ends over rocks, and bounce our feet off of rocky areas, avoiding getting stuck.  For a portion of river, I was "by myself" - apart from the rest of our group, but amid other river-goers.  And suddenly, a single line of geese flew really low and close to us overhead, in the opposite direction as we were floating.  It was breathtaking.  Later, another line of geese came swimming upstream in another single line.  

After that encounter, I found myself enraptured with geese.  I have an image of a V of geese, cut from an old calendar, in my room now.  Before, this was an image that seemed bland to me - just another nature image, with bland colors and bland content.  Now it's captivating.  Who are these geese?  

I am absolutely certain that an even closer encounter with a goose would leave me terrified and/or grossed out.  Similar to my fascination with chickens, one day having a coop of them, and my recent opportunity to "help" kill one (with the same friends from the river trip) - but terror at the thought of holding one - they have talons, beaks, wings - what about that could possibly make for safe holding? 

This is partly what gives the goose its allure and mystery for me too.  They are wild creatures.  They could do something crazy at any moment.  And they gracefully coordinate into beautiful formations when they fly.  How does the goose know to do these things?  It "let[s] the soft animal of [its] body love what it loves."

Another poem about "Wild Geese," by Wendell Berry from Collected Poems 1957-1982

Horseback on Sunday morning,
harvest over, we taste persimmon
and wild grape, sharp sweet
of summer's end. In time's maze
over fall fields, we name names
that went west from here, names
that rest on graves. We open
a persimmon seed to find the tree
that stands in promise,
pale, in the seed's marrow.
Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear,
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here.
And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye
clear. What we need is here.
Wendell uses the word "abandon" here.  Similar to Annie's (previous post - on "weasels") mention of the weasel's "single necessity," "abandon" is what calls the goose to its post in the V or single line formation, to its squawking, flapping.  It is wild.  Just as the weasel is wild.  
I like that Wendell calls this "the ancient faith" - to follow our calling with total abandon, and to remember that "what we need is here."  "We pray, not for new earth or heaven, but to be quiet in heart, and in eye clear. What we need is here."  The ancient faith doesn't call for escape, but for quiet, to tap back into what is already here, if we can be still enough and tap deep enough.
All lovely nuggets.  I'm glad to have been invited into deep listening at Team Leaders Circle.  

weasels and geese 1: weasels

Oh dear, there's so much pondering, musing, and experiencing that's been happening the past months as I/we've been living L'Arche Atlanta!  Was just looking back at my last post - so much more musing since then around the same topic!

For now - I've been reflecting more on calling/lifestyle/life's work.  This has been stirring partly because of a L'Arche Team Leaders Circle Retreat that I went on, so I'll keep it here on this blog about my "life with folks with disabilities".  That, and because this is really my "current" blog.  Of course, none of my life is really "life without folks with disabilities" - so it all counts, I suppose.

The week started with an actual Retreat day (it's actually a week of Formation/Training, but in a retreat setting).  And we started the day hearing a story read aloud to us (love!).  Sarah Thomson read us "Living Like Weasels" by Annie Dillard, author of Pilgrim at Tinker Creek.  I'm not sure if this story/essay/entry is in Tinker Creek, but it's by Annie.  

It starts out with lots of gory details about weasels killing other animals, one even trying to kill an eagle.  And I thought "what the hell? Why is she telling us these things?"  I do love a good gory animal story about animals being animals (for example: Mary Rose O'Reilly's graphic description of castrating rams on a commercial sheep farm in Barn at the End of the World).  However, I was a little put-off and puzzled at first with this sharing on our Retreat Day.  



By the end of the story, I got the picture.  Annie applies her first-hand encounter, learnings and musings about weasels - to vocation.  

She invites us to "live like weasels" - to get in touch with our animal selves, to follow our innermost necessity and desire.  

She describes weasels as "obedient to instinct" - they go for the jugular or base of the skull, because that's what they do.  They don't overthink, consider where in the larger picture of the food chain they exist.  They go for the jugular - period.  

She suggests that we could live like a weasel - we could, any one of us, choose to "go wild."  

I love this: "The thing is to stalk your calling in a certain skilled and supple way, to locate the most tender and live spot and plug into that pulse. This is yielding, not fighting. A weasel doesn't 'attack' anything; a weasel lives as he's meant to, yielding at every moment to the perfect freedom of single necessity."

To stalk your calling.  To yield.  Single necessity.  

"...to grasp your one necessity and not let it go, to dangle from it limp wherever it takes you...Seize it and let it seize you up aloft even, till your eyes burn out and drop; let your musky flesh fall off in shreds, and let your very bones unhinge and scatter, loosened over fields, over fields and woods, lightly, thoughtless, from any height at all, from as high as eagles."

I'm wondering what it looks and feels like to "pay attention," to tap into "what is essential" for oneself (these were the key invitations for reflection for the day) - such that one is so in tune with one's "single necessity" and can yield to it.  What are the practices that do and will help me pay attention?  What would it look like for me to yield to single necessity, to respond to my calling with complete abandon?  

We explored some common practices of folks who pay good attention, and I explored some of my own.  As I attempt to tend to these practices, I hope to "live like a weasel."  I think I've had some pretty keen "weasel" moments already in life - I don't know how else I would have gotten here.  And I hope to let my "weasel" self lead me in each next phase.  

February 6, 2013

readier to open my/our arms...and feeling the counter-cultural

just a couple notes to mark recent thoughts:

-At the 6-ish month mark of our opening of L'Arche Atlanta, I have to say that, while we're still learning a lot, adjusting and finding new rhythms on a regular basis, and have a long to-do list - we've also learned, done, and adjusted a LOT in the past 6 months!  

Personally, I've learned some things about myself as a leader.  Somehow, the leadership positions I've had in the past hadn't quite compared to my current role.  I've become a pastor of a small church, indeed.  And though I'm not supposed to let on to Americorps that I'm doing anything like supervising (or at least some specific tasks related to such), I'm in a supervisory role.  As one who has historically led by following, kept her mouth shut for the greater, democratic good (though I've made good strides since being called to offer my voice to "the group" at Sojo), and in more recent "executive" roles (if co-chairing student organizations counts), sought all voices and opinions at as many turns of the road...  I have been learning to take the reins, to push, to make clear requests, to tow a hard line occasionally.  

I really should have been writing more frequently over the past year - there is so much I could spill in reflection and musings here.  

As a community, we have been learning how to be with one another.  As a provider agency, we have been learning how to dot our i's and cross our t's - and let all the appropriate people know about it.  We've been calling folks to community and responsibility.  We've been putting on our "big girl pants" (or "big boy pants," as is appropriate), as Sara puts it.  In other words, we've been facing reality as it's been presented to us, and responding as best we can to it.  

Again, I could go on and on and on.  I feel like these are only introductory paragraphs to so many juicier and interesting stories.  But I want to at least begin introducing some themes here.

And the point being, here, that I've been feeling like we're in a more "stable" place the past few weeks.  The holidays were spotty, with many of us away for big stints of time.  Before that, we were barely keep our heads above water.  And now, we've got some things under our organizational belt, we've adjusted our weekly structure so that we have more community time - and with all of that, I feel like we could have a dinner guest, or craft buddy, etc. come over - and not feel like the world will tilt on end.  Not that we haven't been having dinner or other types of guests, or that it's been the most stressful thing at any point to host people.  I've been very grateful for each person we've managed to have to the house in the past 6 months.  There's such life that comes from the people who don't live within the walls of the house.  That said - I do feel an "opening up" here recently.  Life feels a bit more "supple" (as Tim recently put it), or at least with the possibility of becoming so.  We've put a nice, cozy little pillow around community time, and we've put out a number of fires that kept much of our attention the first 6 months (with still some ablaze, but they generally stay back long enough to have dinner and pray together).  Of course, that means we're again in a time of transition - so, what does stability mean for us?  What do we focus on now?  What are our priorities at this point?  

But all in all, I'm glad to be in this phase of questions, and beyond the questions of "how do I scan this entire Policies and Procedures manual and make 5 copies of it, without any of the machinery to do so within our organization?"  

-The second big theme named in the title of this post, which I have been feeling deeply lately - is the counter-cultural nature of L'Arche.  As I mentioned, we've been calling one another to community and responsibility. And while I knew that L'Arche is counter-cultural, and that we'd be a big change from the typical provider agency scene - I somehow did not realize how "against the grain" I would find us to be, in the midst of the greater disability world at-large.  The grain is (and has been) going toward encouraging self-absorption, instead of community.  

I say this in all humility, of course - ok, yes, also with a great deal of righteous indignation.  However, I must qualify by saying that L'Arche does not always get it right - "it" being community, growth, etc.  We are human beings trying to live and be together.  It's difficult, we hurt each other, and we get fussy. 

But, I of course wouldn't be here if there weren't something deeply compelling to me about what L'Arche is and hopes to be.  

And so - I continue - by saying that the phrase "person-centered planning" has become a trigger for rage within me.  It has come to mean "self-centered," "self-absorption," "all about me".  These words point to narcissism, which is a condition where one is not aware of the reality of other people existing in the world, and one's interconnectedness with them.  

My other qualifier of humility here is that I know that person-centered planning is not an evil creation of some single person who wishes to oppress and force people into narcissism - but rather the result of many kindhearted, well-intentioned, justice-seeking folks - and a result of the current, general swing of the disability world from institutions to uber-"independent" individuals with disabilities, my generation's swing from hands-off to hands-on, from punitive to "you're the most special kid in the whole wide world, you can do anything!", a result of capitalism, a result of the boostraps mentality of the United States, etc., etc.  

As Curt has put it, there is something deeply beautiful in the midst of the examples/models raised up in the world of person-centered planning.  The idea is that dreams are cast, and the tools required to move toward those dreams are put into place to facilitate the work toward those dreams.  The idea is that one might flourish, grow, become more themselves, etc. - if only they have the right supports in place to help them do so.  

Yes, ok, fabulous.  However - so often, this is not done truly in community, in a setting where one might truly develop meaningful relationships with unpaid, non-family members.

So - I feel the counter-cultural nature of what we're doing in the midst of the greater disability world, as well as greater society and provider agency land, both of which I already knew we were countering.  

And to add another layer, I've been thinking much lately about how this dynamic not only creates a counter-cultural dynamic when we place L'Arche in the midst of our neighbors.  But it also creates a counter-cultural dynamic in terms of the transition that we ask new core members to make as they enter into L'Arche.  Assistants, yes, this is a counter-cultural move for us - but there are plenty of other young, do-gooders from privileged backgrounds who do the self-sacrificial, downwardly mobile year or few in intentional community, simple living, service-focused programs - and we've been doing it for decades.  

Core members, adults with intellectual disabilities, on the other hand - we've not been calling these folks to such a life, from such similar lives as our assistants.  In the past, we've welcomed many folks out of institutions - from neglect to belonging.  A beautiful transition, even if painful at times, and even an un-workable fit for some folks along the way.  Now, we have a generation of folks who haven't suffered from neglect, but over-attention.  They've heard "yes, you're special, fabulous, you can do anything" - and to the nth degree, because if you have a disability, life has been all about your abilities.  And yet you've needed a lot of help, and thus received a lot of attention.  And we ask these folks to enter into community, where one's needs and desires must be kept in perspective with others with whom one lives?  where there is no one center human of the house-universe?

This is the ultimate counter-intuitive move, I think.  Our internal counter-intuitiveness.  The daily life we ask our members to live.  

This is, of course, not to say that this latter counter-intuitive nature of calling folks from over-attention to belonging-in-community isn't doable, that the gap is too wide to bridge, or that L'Arche is irrelevant or doesn't make sense any more.  

However, I do think that it means we're in a new generation, or phase, of L'Arche.  And I think it calls the question of how we form anyone as new members in L'Arche.  In a way, I do think this new phase of L'Arche puts potential new core members in a more similar boat with potential new assistants.  There's a kind of downward mobility ladder that one must be taught and formed by.  We are still all vulnerable, broken, etc. - despite the attention, power, etc. that we have been given.  It's a matter of getting in touch with those things to connect amongst each other as humans.  And it's likely a matter of realizing that our very accustomedness with attention, power, etc. are part and parcel with our brokenness - likely more so than the things we've assumed to be our brokenness/vulnerability/weakness (like a lack of vision, hearing, or mobility - or our disdain for public speaking, etc.), and have perhaps used as masks for our real vulnerabilities.  

November 15, 2012

in atlanta now, oh jeez

So, I haven't posted since I was in Jacksonville.  My last post was in my moment of digging in for what felt like "the long haul" of 1-2 more months there in Jacksonville.  I was ready to get on to the "real" next step - why must I sit here and deal with daily life some place else, when I'm really just preparing for life in the next place?  As the words "stay with me, remain here with me, watch and pray" soaked into me, I realized that, ah, yes - this was the whole point of being called to L'Arche - to be present with people, to watch and pray.

And of course, even as I felt the angst of having to "sit still" for a couple of months - they turned out to not be so still.  I went away for a week of Exploratory Retreat, I preached at Community Night (on dirt!), I accompanied Ann at the Harbor House Community Retreat, I helped with the hiring and admission process for L'Arche Atlanta, I went on vacation with Greatfull House to Atlanta, I started taking RSVPs for a small piece of the very big L'Arche International General Assembly, I made plans for my trip to Nashville to get commissioned as a United Methodist Deacon and chat with folks in Nashville about my L'Arche experience thus far.

Um, what happened to "stay with me, remain here with me"?  Well, I feel like I did live into that call - I found peace in that phrase to sustain me in my remaining time in Jacksonville.  And even in the midst of those Harbor House and non-Harbor House activities in my last month or 2, I think I was able to remain fairly "present" to those around me.  My time there was immensely formational.  I love the core members and the assistants there.  I've since been in touch with folks, and gotten to see a few who've come up to Atlanta for the International Assembly and other trips.  I will love L'Arche Harbor House forever, it will hold a very fond place in my heart. 

And now, I've been in Atlanta for 5 months.  It feels like it's been a very long time, but sounds like so few months.  A lot has happened - namely, we've started a L'Arche community.  I'll leave it at that for now, but I'm hoping this post will re-hook me into somewhat regular posting.  Now - onto a daily check-in with Tim, some communication and documentation work, and then on to picking up core members in the afternoon.

Peace upon peace upon peace.
Jessica

April 24, 2012

stay with me, remain here with me, watch and pray

This is a bit belated, but significant enough to share.

We had a Taize prayer service at L'Arche Harbor House the Thursday evening before Holy Week.  This was the second Taize service that I've experienced at L'Arche.  This time I managed to be roped into accompanying with the ensemble on the keyboard (my feeble piano skills such as they are these days).

The last song we sang was "Stay with me."  The words are:
Stay with me
Remain here with me
Watch and pray, watch and pray

These were Jesus' words (in the gospels of Matthew and Mark) to the disciples when he went to pray in Gethsemane before he was arrested and eventually crucified.  A very Lenten song.  He asks the disciples, especially a few of them, to stay up, to watch and pray.  The story is that they fall asleep multiple times, until finally he actually gets arrested.

As we had a time of silence to meditate at the end of the service, I found the words calling to me from L'Arche Harbor House.  "Stay with me, remain here with me, watch and pray.  Watch and pray."

A bit of recap of the past few months:  I spent a month at L'Arche Harbor House in Jacksonville, then a month away (at L'Arche Mobile, personal retreat in St. Augustine, and Nashville for United Methodist commissioning interviews), then came back for 2 1/2 more months in Jacksonville before moving in with our founding community at L'Arche Atlanta.

As I was settling into my new room in Greatfull House and getting ready to have my first "on" day - my first day to have core member "buddies" without shadowing another assistant - I found myself mourning the end of my phase of independence, of being ultimately only responsible for myself.

I felt whiny and selfish for not wanting to take on the responsibility I was due.  But as I continued to sit with these squirmy, resistant feelings, I realized that it was not just a resistance to responsibility.  Part of it was the stress of a new set of transitions happening again, all at once - a new room, new responsibilities, an assistant who I'd become friends with leaving the community upon my return (all of this planned, but still difficult), another assistant on vacation upon my return.  This all left me feeling a bit overwhelmed, yes.

To sum it up, the deeper reality was that I was simply weary of transition, of "not-yet-ness".  I realized I'd already been in "not yet" land for 3 1/2 months, and still had 2 1/2 more to go.  And those first 3 1/2 months were "on the go" months.  While staying "on the go" carries its own weariness, I had momentum propelling me forward from place to place.  I think I had expected this last 2 1/2 month stint to be the easiest, the smoothest - 1 place, 1 purpose.  However, the reality of it was more like violently hitting a wall than peacefully slowing down to a reasonable pace.  You mean I've been going-going in order to sit in one more "not yet" place for 2 1/2 more months?  Can I not just move to Atlanta now?  I want to dive in with what I've been preparing to dive into!

Once I identified and let myself feel the resentment, frustration, grief, the stifled and overwhelmed feelings, the weariness - I found myself more willing to respond to the invitation to wait, to be where I am, to receive this time as an even more formative gift than the last few, go-go months.

And then, as I heard the words of the Taize song, it occurred to me that I wasn't being invited to wait just for the sake of waiting (though this might be fruitful).  I was being called to be present to Jesus at L'Arche Harbor House.  Because Jesus is present here, he calls me to "stay...remain here...watch and pray."  

January 31, 2012

head and heart always reeling

just to get a few almost-thoughts down...

a few things that i'm wanting to explore and brainstorm more...

-what does/would a truly interfaith l'arche? or community? look like?
-what would l'arche on a farm look like?
-what does/might truly nonviolent/compassionate/open/honest/clear communication look like?
-what various impulses "against" life in l'arche might mean:  ...to live in intentional community without persons with disabilities, ...to live by oneself, ...to live on a farm, ...to start something new in order to have more control - over policies, over the kitchen, etc.
-what would a l'arche-camphill hybrid look like?