December 6, 2016 – All the light we can and cannot see

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Last Friday, one of the artists asked me, if I’d thought about leading any more art trips to Europe. Her question brought back up for me, last year’s Paris Pilgrimage and how hard it was. My response to her, was that when I had just come home from Paris last year, I was determined that the challenges would not be the end of the story – that I’d do it again, after having learned and grown from it – but this year, I’m thinking it very well could be the end of the story. Then I realized what I’d said – and who was in the room. Two of the pilgrims on the trip were there. This had me consider the Pilgrimage from their perspective – which, even given the challenges, they said was wonderful. I re-lived with them, the spectacular day in Giverny to see Monet’s garden in early fall, the evening on the Bateau Mouche to see the lights of Paris, the gorgeous baroque concert in Sainte Chapelle, and the friendship that formed between three of them – who hadn’t know each other before – that continues even a year later.

I then started recalling the bright spots in my experience, that I had let fall away. Alicia brought me big bodacious pink hydrangeas, to brighten my room when I was in sick in bed; our apartment host had provided her doctor’s contact information, without which, I’d have had no idea where to start to get medical help. European medicine is skilled – and affordable. My visit and three prescriptions were less than 100 euros! The day – after I’d spent two in bed, so sick I was frightened – I traveled to outside of Paris effortlessly, in the “pink bubble”, we created for ourselves (it really worked…). And then there was, ultimately, my resilience. I never threw in the towel, I rebounded and was able to function, for the final two days until late at night. And, throughout it all, my French-speaking skills never let me down. I have no business being able to speak it as well as I do. I lived there 20 years ago, and I almost never speak it here at home.

Though, looking back more than a year now, the brightest light for me – is even deeper. I realize that what I took on was enormous. Conceiving, planning , promoting, supporting, financing, leading, holding the space for an international trip like this – all on my own – no one apart from the other pilgrims to lean on, and, without any experience doing anything like this before – was huge. I realize both how courageous it was, if a bit foolhardy (I am a Sagittarius). And, how the way I went about this, asked too much of me. I am a graduate of a Co-Active leadership program, where we are taught the power of two – and how compassionate it is for everyone concerned – everyone – for there to be two leaders – not just for backup, but for range and increased creativity. No one leader can bring everything. Plus I am a woman, a feminine being, and I have never been happiest, operating on my own.

The light that shines from this trip for me, is the knowing – the kind of knowing, that I wrote about last week – that what I have to offer, is more precious than organizational efforts. I am a spiritual space-holder and explorer and guide, for the participants’ deeper experience. So, if I were to take on something like this again, I will have support, really solid support. I will work with a tour company or some other person or organization, to share the accountability of the trip with. If I look back, I cannot imagine having this knowing, without having lived through the trip as it was. It took the experiences I had – in all their difficulty – for me to see this. I’m different, my consciousness, my awareness is expanded, and I feel my value – and more solid inside.

I am witnessing a lot of people around me in darkness. Not only feeling the effects of the current state of our national politics and social culture, as so much ugliness, that has been mostly hidden, is being revealed – but on a more personal level too: death, aging, illness. I’m feeling it. There is a heavy weight to it. We are living through times of dis-integration. My reaction to this has been, to attempt to find the bigger picture, the reason we are going through this. I’ve been compelled to understand why and how, and what this all means! I’m recently realizing that this is a coping mechanism, to avoid my own fears. Just as I could not access the light from the Pilgrimage to Paris until much later, we can’t know how we will grow from this, until far down the road. We do, just have to hold on for the ride.

Dark times in my life have all been fruitful. And in them, light has always arisen. Dickens started The Tale of Two Cities with: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…” I wonder if this isn’t just how it is, in living a human life. There is always light hidden in the shadow – like those who are bravely bearing the danger and their own emotions, sifting through the burned out warehouse, for the victims of the fire in Oakland. But, the brightest light also casts the darkest shadow. We all have blind spots – and they are worse when things are too good, too bright – like looking right into the sun. Times of darkness reveal what we could not see. I’ve not discovered my blinds spots in any other way! Then – what ensues, is nothing less than our evolution.

So what do we do besides hang on, besides just “hang in there?” My Donna has taught me to feel it, to let it sear my insides – to develop the capacity for my own suffering. This is what matures our hearts and grows us as people. It’s also what keeps us from passing our darkness on in hurtful, violent ways. I love what Father Richard Rohr said, in his interview with Oprah: “We must transform our pain or we will transmit it.”

We also must stay awake and attune our attention to the points of light – they are everywhere. There’s light we feel with our hearts, and light we see with our eyes. Those of us who have the privilege of having the inclination, the time and the ability – we create. Some may be called to create the darkness – to give those who suffer, the consolation of being seen and known. I’m called to paint the light – and to shine mine as much as I am able, and still stay true. In order to paint the light, I must see and paint the darkness too. It is the contrast, the two next to each other that take our breath away.

The other thing that happens in dark times, is connection – or at least the invitation for it. We instinctively huddle up, gather together and care for each other. I’m holding space for this on Sunday. It’s December’s Paint our Prayers. If you’d like to come in person, I’d love to have you join. Here’s the signup. And if you want to join over the World Wide Web that connects us all, send me an email to send you the link.

As I come to write every Tuesday, you are with me. As I type, I’m aware of you out there – I literally write this to you. It is this connection with you, that has drawn these posts from me every week, for over two years and two months now.

With my gratitude and love,

Cara