Cameron: Writing As a Spiritual Practice

Cameron: Writing As a Spiritual Practice

“Do not call procrastination laziness. Call it fear. Fear is what blocks an artist. The fear of not being good enough. The fear of not finishing. The fear of failure and of success. The fear of beginning at all. There is only one cure for fear. That cure is love. Use love for your artist to cure their fear. Stop yelling at yourself. Be nice. Call fear by its right name.”—Julia Cameron in The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity (Tarcher 1995).

When I suggest to friends that they consider writing as a spiritual practice, most respond that they don’t know how to start or that they have no writing talent. It is not their gift. The best antidote to this fear of writing or inadequacy as a writer is Julia Cameron’s book, The Artist’s Way. Cameron suggests starting to write by rising in the morning and writing “morning pages,” which she calls the “primary tool of creative recovery.” These are three longhand pages of whatever comes to mind. These reflections do not have to make “sense.” Instead, writing them is intended to be a listening exercise in the morning: imagining God’s hand moving through our hands as we write.

I have also experienced this exercise as a clearing or cleaning out of the garbage in my head. Fearful thoughts stay powerful when they remain in my head, but some of their power over me goes away when I put them on paper. Perhaps, in some way, I am turning them over, releasing them to God to begin the creative process.

Cameron recommends we pray for guidance every night and ask for answers. The morning pages are a process of listening for the answers as the day begins.

I often write on the inside covers of books when I start reading them. As I reread Cameron’s book, I pull back her cover and observe a date twenty years ago. Memories flood in of the book group at St. Margaret’s Episcopal Church, with which I read The Artist’s Way over one summer. I especially remember Lee Nix, the chair of my discernment committee, who was a mentor to me and an encourager of creativity. Today, there is also an Artist’s Way for Retirement! Some members of that same group are now reading this version on Zoom, as we are scattered across many miles from each other.

I believe it enhances the experience to read, write, and work through a book like The Artist’s Way with a book study group—to go through the book’s many suggested activities and exercises together.

Today, I am also reminded of how powerful it can be to write down a date in the context of spiritual writing.

   Joanna  https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Nouwen: Our Twilight Zones

Nouwen: Our Twilight Zone

"There is a twilight zone in our own hearts that we ourselves cannot see. Other people, especially those who love us, can often see our twilight zones better than we ourselves can. The way we are seen and understood by others is different from the way we see and understand ourselves."—Henri Nouwen in Bread for the Journey (HarperSanFrancisco, 1997).

It is not a coincidence that certain people come into our lives. I remember Catherine Marshall talking about praying for patience, and soon afterward, she hired the slowest housekeeper. As I walked beside them through their struggles, I learned about homosexuality from many gay friends, especially Richard, Terry, and Joe. Likewise, I realized the depth of my Muslim faith's friends' love and concern for others among my radiology residents and partners, especially Sadaf and her family.

These are all people I already loved.

Today, I am getting another hint about the people I meet. I also have much to learn from the "difficult" people who come into my path. Over and over, I know they are teaching me about forgiveness. If I cannot forgive the harm they have brought to my life, I will continue to let them hurt me. Slowly, I admit my part: my character defects, my sins, my hubris, and my self-centeredness, which contributed to the troublesome situation.

As I meet with friends for spiritual direction, we often discuss the lessons God is teaching us through our interactions with each person whose life intersects with ours, whether joyful or painful. Again, this is how we gain the courage to deal with that twilight zone in ourselves and others that Nouwen describes.

The sacred place where God heals us is in our solidarity—especially as we enlarge our community, remove fences and walls, see how alike we are, and simultaneously celebrate the diversity.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Rohr: Messages From Nature

Rohr: Messages From Nature

cottonwood leaves clapping

“If you scale chronological history down to the span of one year, with the Big Bang on January 1, then our species, Homo sapiens, doesn’t appear until 11:59 p.m. on December 31. That means our written Bible and the church appeared in the last nanosecond of December 31. I can’t believe that God had nothing to say until the last nanosecond.”—Richard Rohr, Daily Meditation, Center for Action and Contemplation.

david dahler

I remember staying at a favorite hotel by the Mississippi River. We watch the sun give its last hurrah of pink and orange as it sets over the churning water, racing to New Orleans and the Gulf of Mexico. We are treated to a rare event: the migration of a super full moon, which is brighter and larger, appearing closer to Earth than usual. It finally sets over the north shore of the Mississippi River and quickly disappears into a cloud bank at early dawn.

A gentle breeze blows the last leaves from their trees near the water’s edge. The cottonwood leaves seem to be the last holdouts. As the wind blows their palm shapes, we hear the sound like clapping, as if they are praising their Creator—in awe of the spectacle we witness just before their last flight.

cottonwood leaf

Nature is telling us something. There is still breathtaking beauty in the world. Something more significant than we can ever imagine fashioned it all. All of nature seems to give thanks and honor its Creator. Dare we consider joining the dance and doing the same?

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/