Emergence

As we near the threshold of a year of cocooning in harbors of safety, I am thinking about what it means to emerge. Vaccines are on the horizon.  The seed catalogs just arrived in my mailbox, so I know there will be planting. The soil beneath the frozen tundra is not idle, but is preparing to be the fertile recipient of something yet unknown.

And in this time, Lent begins.

e·mer·gence
/əˈmərjəns/noun
1. the process of coming into view or becoming exposed after being concealed.

Without my consent, I have been forced into a fast from many of the people, spaces and places that are restorative sources of joy and connection. There, in this “winter of my discontent” I have made some discoveries, learned new things, and awakened from my complacency of what was unappreciated routine. Here, in these months of separation, I begin to wonder what it is that inspires the warmly wrapped cocoon to begin to open.

How do I emerge from this year-long Lent and be willing to see something new? This Lent, I invite you to join me on the journey towards emergence.

Thank you for being “my people” with whom I share my invitations, ponderings, plagues, and inquiries. Through the encouragement, guidance and technical coaching of two of my Stuart Center colleagues, Beth Ponticello and Laryn Kragt Bakker, I am venturing into a new territory this Lent. I will be launching a new site, “Faith Not Fear” as an ongoing space for my musings, art, poetry, stories and ramblings.

Lent seems like a good time to stop standing inside the comfort of the belly of the plane, thinking about skydiving – sometimes it’s time to jump. But until “Faith Not Fear” is ready to launch, I’ll invite you here most days of Lent –around lunchtime (DC time – which is the center of the universe)…and ponder the pathway into the Lent of emergence.

Thank you, family and friends, for jumping on the rollercoaster with me.  As many of you know, there is nothing that is a straight line in my life – but there is lots of adventure.  Glad to share the ride.

So today…Ash Wednesday.

Make some ASH – no really, make  some ashes. It’s not that complicated.  Build a fire in the fireplace.  Burn a piece of paper (consistent with all standards of your local fire department).  Make some Ash. That’s how ashes are made.  I had an Ash Wednesday that changed all the others.

In 2010, I pushed the casket of one of my closest friends, Vicki Oakley, into the fire of a crematorium.

Literally.

How I ended up in that moment is another story – but it’s all grounded in love. Vicki and I were about as different as could be — and neither of us particularly liked the other. In fact, we often found ourselves on opposite sides of the fight. She thought my meditation practice was odd and not rational.  I thought her insistence on daily exercise was excessive.

We didn’t stop there.  Instead, we stepped into one another’s world.  I taught her to meditate and she taught me to love to run. I saw in her a seeker and she saw in me a runner.  Neither was obvious from the outset or believable to the onlooker. In the process, we built a bridge of friendship that was a remarkable gift of love forged in tenacity and curiosity.

Cancer ravaged Vicky’s body and I ended up on Ash Wednesday, pushing her casket into the crematorium fire.
I heard the flames.  It all got very real.
It’s not conceptual – those ashes we make.
It’s very real.

But that day didn’t make me morose. It left me passionate. It was very real, but real is what happens when life gets honest. It left me unwilling to waste a day while I’m something other than ashes. I know that “unto dust I shall return” – but I am not dust right now.

So, I made some ashes this morning and I am carrying them around in a ziploc bag. Not to remind me unto what I shall return. But to remind me why I want to live fully today – because it’s not a “given” – it’s a gift.

Make some ashes and then do something that is full of life.

Happy Ash Wednesday.
See you soon!

Bridget