The Unclad Soul

Novelist Lisa See has written, “All women on earth-- and men, too for that matter-- hope for the kind of love that transforms us, raises us up out of the everyday, and gives us the courage to survive our little deaths—the heartache of unfulfilled dreams, of career and personal disappointments, of broken love affairs.” Transformative love. It is possible to know, to experience, and to share. We often look for it in romantic relationships. We all want that. A relationship with someone we truly connect with. Someone we grow to respect and cherish. Someone gentle and kind, affectionate and loving. Someone who makes us laugh out loud, whose joy in life we share, whose depths we understand. Transformative love gives us access to something undeniable, something solid and foundational. In the person we find this with, we find what we have always wanted to be true about human beings. They meet our longings, our desires, our needs—with intelligence, wittiness, humor, passion, tende...

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. In Jesus’ day mourning was serious business. People suffering loss or some inner wound would go out into the streets and tear at their clothing. They would scream and weep in agony. They would gather a handful of dirt and pour it over their heads and let it mingle in their tears. It was a sign of their connection with their mortality, their belonging to the earth where sorrow breeds. They would wrap themselves in the arms of others. They didn’t lose themselves in mindless work or distract themselves in foolish activity. Grieving hurt. Mourning meant something. And I think what Jesus is saying here is: be open to the wounds of the world and to your own. Mourn the hurting of people and when you yourself hurt. Weep over the suffering of humanity and your suffering, too. Don’t hide from it. Don’t attempt to chase it away with meaningless clichés or empty escapes. Feel it and be moved. We are to mourn the deaths of those we l...

Out there in the beautiful unknown, out where life’s mysteries are created and apportioned, out in the wonder of our deeper existence surely lies a welcome for each of us. I want to be connected to that. I want to be open to all of the gifts that wait for me, and you, and all of us in those sacred places of the extraordinary presence of something inexplicable and good. For instance, comfort, in the midst of life’s muddle. Across every path we travel today, the blinding traffic of cars, the early morning neighbor rolling out the trash bins, the coworkers at our workplace, the weary homeless man pushing across the intersection a grocery cart of used debris--there and elsewhere--passes someone just entering or leaving a devastating experience. Heartbreak knows no boundaries. The wounding of the soul comes not with some predetermined assignment or punishment for the few; it comes to all of us, deserving or not. But into the tumult there often appear the mystical open arms of c...

I come to this moment to remember the children and their teachers who were so brutally and senselessly killed last week at the Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut. I come seeking, with you, consolation, because the enormity of this fiendish act challenges the capacity of either human or divine comfort. Novelist David Gemmell has disturbingly said, "If there is one sound that follows the march of humanity, it is the scream." We feel that truth today.  And all of us hear that scream.  It is the scream of terrified children helplessly vulnerable to a deranged killer.  It is the scream of heroic teachers giving up their lives in the ultimate act of protecting their students.  It is the scream of parents and spouses and other children and family members engulfed in tears and broken with grief.  It is the scream of a community and a town embittered and angry by an unthinkable violation of all of their values and dreams and efforts at cre...

While looking out my office window the other day a Cardinal landed very gracefully on my window sill. Dressed in its flaming red feathers with its black mask around its face it just sat there staring at me. I waited for it to say something. Most birds bob their heads around in a kind of jerky way looking up and down and around. But this one kept its head very still and just looked right at me. It seemed very intent as though it was bringing me a message. I couldn’t help thinking: what a majestic creature. I said hello and it flew away. Only the male Cardinal is covered in brilliant red. The female wears a very fashionable tan and gray and they are beautiful, too. Cardinals are considered songbirds because they love to sing. They are very social, too, and are often found in groups of other birds different from their own species. I guess that striking color gives them a sense of presence. Like one of those people who always seems to fit in any crowd. I suppose it would...

Dogs really are our best friends. Ingrid has a little Chihuahua named Brownie, because of course, that’s his color. Cutest little thing you ever saw. Every morning when I pick Ingrid up for school Brownie comes running to me. He goes to the sofa where he can barely jump high enough to get on, but he eventually makes it. He waits for our morning routine in which I rub his back and scratch behind his ears and tell him what a good boy he is. I talk to him while Ingrid is getting her backpack ready. He snuggles his little head against my leg and while he wheezes and wiggles I love on him a little bit. One day as I was taking Ingrid into her school she had on her heavy black coat. As I was brushing off some of Brownie’s hairs I said, “Hang on, sweetie; you have Brownie’s hair on you.” She said, “Oh that’s okay, Poppy. I want some of his love on me today.” Of course, why not? Leave those reminders of her little loving companion. Our pets give us so much comfort, don’t the...