“WIHIWYWG"

The Hermitage

April 1, 2019

Just realized today was April Fools Day. Well, with God’s unique sense of humor I can’t think of a better day to write this.

Before I decided to write about my Sacred Space, I wrote a long piece, just for myself, not intended for publication, dealing with my demons...mainly the ones having to do with privacy and trust. For over 80 years there have been walls around my “holy space” that are so impregnable the Great Wall of China looks like something a child would build with Legos©.

Ironically, I even had an illustration I used when I thought I had torn down my wall…

You build an impregnable brick wall to protect yourself. When you finally decide to abandon your isolation you take out a brick and some so-and-so pokes a finger in your eye so you jam the brick back in. Some time later you decide the only way to do it is to take it down from the top one brick at a time.

Wow...talk about flitting dragonflies...A quote from something I recently read (was it “Bird by Bird” by Anne Lamott? Or maybe Anthony deMello again? Well, whoever it was please forgive me if I break copyright rules…) It went something like “I’d be a lot better off if I preach what I practice instead of trying to practice what I preach.” Hah! NOW They tell me! Well, better late than never.

Back to the matter at hand. The piece, after I’d sorted through all the interior garbage, turned out to really be a pact. With God, with you, and, most importantly, with myself.

In essence the pact is this...If I’m going to write about my Sacred Journey and expect it to have any authenticity I’m going to have to be ready to share some pretty raw stuff. I can’t just turn out “feel good” “sound bite” fluff.

So here’s my first shot at it.

A friend of mine had a saying, "I've been around the world seven times on a slow turtle and I'm know by all to be fearless." Well, that's good ole world traveler me.

But when I decided God wanted me to write about my “holy space” I was -- and, to be honest, to some degree I still am -- scared spitless.

The trumpet sounded and the walls came a tumblin’ down...took more than a few times around the city to get it done in my case -- some eight decades -- and I’ll tell you I think I know what the citizens of Jericho must have felt like as they looked out over the piles of rubble that used to be their fortress.

As I wrote the pact, the “Posse in My Head” saddled up for a lynching party. Emotionally I was already hightailing it out of Dodge on a dead run.

(Side bar - I’ll write more about my Posse some other time - for the time being I’ll add an addendum at the bottom of this piece to give credit to the person I got the phrase from.)

It’s happening again as I write this. And this time the Posse not only wants a lynching, they are out for blood.

Put it another way...within about 15 seconds of realizing what I’ve done I’ve played every old tape of self-slander that I’ve ever recorded in my life.

And the amazing thing is...II thought I’d dealt with all that! Or at least locked those tapes away in “The Vault.” Well, to mix metaphors, it appears He’s not only torn down the wall, He’s also torn The Vault door off the hinges.

So, sigh, it appears I’ll not only have to deal with this junk again (or is it ‘still?’) and probably have to do at least some of it publicly.

Right now all I really want to say is, regardless of the Posse and the tapes, I’m committed to sharing with you as honestly as I can.

And you and I both need to be prepared.

I’ve learned two things over the years...some of my meditations are often not much fun, and...they often yield more questions than answers. I’ve been working on some of this stuff for a long time.

But, to the best of my ability, these writings will be ...What I Hear Is What You Will Get.

Epilogue

I’m trying not to write this as “pity-poor-me.” It’s just an honest sharing of the self-examination I had to go through before I committed…

I had to dive deep, deep, deep into the darkness of that pool with the hidden treasure. I had to find the container holding the little grain of mustard seed it seems like I’ve been trying to grow forever...trust.

Not in you, and not in myself, but in God.

Wait, that’s not quite right.

I did have to trust myself. I had to trust that I have grown enough spiritually to hear God when He’s calling me, and to have the courage to follow through.

On page 112 of one of Andrea’s favorite books “Bird by Bird: Instructions on Writing,” Anne Lamott tells her students that when they write the first draft of that novel they think is going to change the world, it’s going to be a piece of %$#^&# (editing her language.) But they have to have confidence. Confidence amid the anxiety and self-doubt. Confidence to trust themselves and their intuition. “Trust...Don’t look at your feet to see if you’re doing it right. Just dance.”

So...I’ll send out a bunch of “first drafts” about my meditations and if any of what I write applies to your life like it does to mine, then…

let’s dance together.

I’ll try not to step on your toes too much.

———-

Till then.. Blessings and Peace

Thanks for joining me on my Sacred Journey.

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Addendum:

Andrea and I attended an American Association of Marriage and Family Therapists (AAMFT) conference to get our continuing education credits for the year. The entertainer, whose name I don’t remember, was a cowboy...from Denver as I recall...who was a comedian. He told jokes about “The Posse in His Head.” Andrea and I knew instantly what he meant -- and so did everybody else in the room. And I think you know too. “WIHIWYWG"