tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55711601360719272022024-02-08T11:59:36.215+08:00Deep Water DwellingCathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.comBlogger207125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-575258716250842172024-01-19T21:48:00.005+08:002024-01-19T21:48:34.313+08:00Getting to know you<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWXtz1leUU6PXhDYDcd5i2rdUUHwGEXssxhsr3vGp8bOhqzV9Ij75_HqiH28osk7O0peq_ywBbvt8ZD4uWxGQRYW4kqHmWo5DploKBzxPvst-WBtd-woIfcTroV2UAwYePCN5GyBnUXfB1Sq6FVO1EpRt_Um88p2UrdqWp_r3WiRe_jayPGKanE4AC/s4032/Alien.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWXtz1leUU6PXhDYDcd5i2rdUUHwGEXssxhsr3vGp8bOhqzV9Ij75_HqiH28osk7O0peq_ywBbvt8ZD4uWxGQRYW4kqHmWo5DploKBzxPvst-WBtd-woIfcTroV2UAwYePCN5GyBnUXfB1Sq6FVO1EpRt_Um88p2UrdqWp_r3WiRe_jayPGKanE4AC/s320/Alien.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> <b><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">Since we moved into our new house near the river, I have been taking walks in the morning or evening to get to know the area. I am getting to know some of the familiar sights: the neighbour who puts out a bowl of homegrown cucumbers for passersby to take, the driveway decorated with chalk drawings by local children, the people catching crabs in the river. Even some of the dogs taking their owners for walks are becoming recognizable. I am getting to know this place, its characteristics and the other creatures who call it home.</span></i></b><p></p><p><b><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">Last week, as I walked by the river, I found myself asking a strange question. Is this place starting to get to know me? Is it possible for a place to know you? Certainly the people and the other creatures have this capacity, but what about the trees, the river, the rocks? </span></i></b></p><p><b><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">I took this photo of myself down by the river last week and, afterwards, realised the shirt I was wearing. I bought it at the Coldplay concert last year. The message, 'Everyone is an alien somewhere', had a certain appeal and truth that saw me wanting to add it to my wardrobe. I felt like an alien in this foreign place. No one had caused me to feel this way. It was simply unfamiliar and unknown.</span></i></b></p><p><b><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">I can't explain how, but I feel that this place is beginning to embrace me and include me as part of the ecosystem. Each day as I walk I feel less alien-like and more at home. It has been important for me to get to know this land and this waterway, but I feel the country is also getting to know me. As I take time and notice my surroundings, the paths I walk are inviting me to engage more. </span></i></b></p><p><b><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">I have entered into a relationship with this place which is still young and fresh. I am no longer an alien in this place.<br /></span></i></b><br /></p>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-68892051425298055702024-01-05T08:33:00.001+08:002024-01-05T08:34:23.431+08:002024 Word of the Year - Flow<p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i> In the last few weeks Guy and I have been in a time of great transition. In early December we packed up our home in Margaret River, helped our adult children move their belongings into their own spaces (they are staying in Margaret River), and moved to the big city, Perth. This brought with it many mixed feelings. I have not been sure about moving back to the city, the faster pace, the traffic, the noise... We are now living in a church house in a part of the city unfamiliar to both of us. We now live a short walk from Derbal Yerrigan (also known as the Swan River). </i></b></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgsktUFfc-pW0ocSM5XnUMKGRWPp6h9gPb2361_TsXpOcdZ1kit6347TP5dkjfSwL9sz_WJuAfvYUtl5OaIou2mVWpezaQEHLL4b4NdSi9KZd1xtytEpX5j4XtT7m97DCDDTAi_Uav3nmS5oflRihHHqdwf6p4o67EeJnOvmLxp_AGc5r629JdblLKt" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i><img alt="" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="800" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgsktUFfc-pW0ocSM5XnUMKGRWPp6h9gPb2361_TsXpOcdZ1kit6347TP5dkjfSwL9sz_WJuAfvYUtl5OaIou2mVWpezaQEHLL4b4NdSi9KZd1xtytEpX5j4XtT7m97DCDDTAi_Uav3nmS5oflRihHHqdwf6p4o67EeJnOvmLxp_AGc5r629JdblLKt=w400-h266" width="400" /></i></b></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>When we last lived in Perth we were close to the beach, living near the river is quite foreign. What does it mean to live by the river? How will the river speak into our lives as we dwell so close? These questions came alive again in the last week as we took a few days holiday in Singapore. We have enjoyed visiting Singapore before, but on previous holidays always stayed in a popular shopping area. This time we tried a different area close to the river. I found walking, dining and sitting by the river delightful. Watching life pass by on the water or along its banks, staying alert for signs of wildllife, and observing how the shifting weather changed the moods of the river had the potential to while away many hours.</i></b></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>This experience and the location of our new home had me thinking about Mechthild of Magdeburg, one of the beguines I spent a few years studying in my PhD. Mechthild grew up by the River Elbe in Germany. She would have become accustomed to the seasons, currents and movements of the river. So much so, that when she talked of her relationship with God one of the prominent images is flowing. Living in the flow of God's love is integral to Mechthild's writing.</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>"Daily I offer you whatever I have:</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>Nothing but baseness.</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>And you, Lord, shall infuse me with your grace.</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>Then I can flow from your love."</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Flowing Light of the Godhead, Book V, 20.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>I spent a number of hours trying to grasp exactly what Mechthild meant by being in the flow of God. And so, now I have the opportunity to experience a little of what she saw. It is a different river, on a different continent, in a different century. Perhaps as I notice the ebb and flow, the stillness and the turmoil, the way people connect with the water, the way I come to know it more intimately - the river will be my teacher.</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>In the past my words of the year have had an associated goal, a longing for change or growth. This year is different. In adopting the word "flow" I am inviting myself into a year of discovery, a year of noticing, a year of being attentive to the country I live upon. I want to listen to the stories of First Nations Peoples of this land and its waters. I want to take time on the river's bank and not just speed past as many do along the adjacent freeway. There is no goal, just an invitation.</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>Happy new year to you all! </i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /><br /></p>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-2341176531277610692022-12-31T23:19:00.001+08:002022-12-31T23:19:30.373+08:002023 Word of the Year - Menuha<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXOrQ97otZe90H3hz92VVfB15zEH-HhukPfT2fAOsyGvGltgEoj9YuKKBsM23edJlpyD51PcX1dbxsMHNB3RVwIyBta6Cs7J0ZxFv8Xl5iuShr5xxl-5EhEv5Ujs3haRvQAENJxYuJNDmAs-V5_lQ9oljhX8cfxVcp3KnG8F1U8IcaCgo_oQehw/s966/dandelion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="966" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXOrQ97otZe90H3hz92VVfB15zEH-HhukPfT2fAOsyGvGltgEoj9YuKKBsM23edJlpyD51PcX1dbxsMHNB3RVwIyBta6Cs7J0ZxFv8Xl5iuShr5xxl-5EhEv5Ujs3haRvQAENJxYuJNDmAs-V5_lQ9oljhX8cfxVcp3KnG8F1U8IcaCgo_oQehw/s320/dandelion.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>As I embark on what will be a full 2023, I have been considering what my word for the year should be. There is much uncertainty leading into this new year as I take on a new role which will see me spending a lot more time away from home in Perth. There have been a few conversations about how this will work for our family and the need to ensure my work roles do not become all consuming.<br /></i></b></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>As I have been preparing for this new role, I have been exploring the theme of "Sabbath" as an underpinning framework for the formation program I will be co-ordinating. This has led me to read to Abraham Joshua Heschel's "The Sabbath". This is a book I have had on my "to read" list for a while now. I read it in one sitting and consumed every word.</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>Heschel, a Jewish scholar, unveils the mystery of the Sabbath in poetic beauty. One section, in particular, caught my attention. Heschel explains the nuances of the term "menuha" and its significance to observing the Sabbath. I knew straight away that this needed to be my word of 2023. The Hebrew word "menuha" is usually translated as "rest". Heschel explains, however, that this rest is not simply the putting down of tools in order to recuperate before starting work again. The Sabbath, the menuha, itself completes the work of creation. In the first account of Creation in Genesis, the creative process is finished when menuha is formed on the seventh day. On all of the previous days God sees what is created and says it is good. On this seventh day God blesses the day and makes it holy.</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>This understanding opens up a new significance to finding times of rest amid the busyness of life. Without sabbath times, without menuha, my work will not be complete. There is an element of menuha that takes a step back and savours the work of the week before moving on. Menuha seems to take delight in what has been created. In the Jewish tradition this mystery is seeped with ritual and celebration. </i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>So, in 2023, as I make my way up and down the highway and juggle two roles, I hope to find my own ways to find menuha. It is unlikely that this will come in the form of a day each week, but I aim to find menuha times in the midst of life. Being intentional about creating menuha will somehow complete my work.</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>Happy New Year to you all!</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></p>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-34113592538926034322022-02-11T21:52:00.000+08:002022-02-11T21:52:15.277+08:00The Elusive Dunnart<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEivn7AUfEBftClT27gIInRXKlGJ8loyivMnrJg-3pweg8DlrqSHdik3J6ELaJRtZ45bmYoOfBUehZHbJ3xiSk9NTXej6XNwsMu9OHkZ5rKaTOv-6Lztry15I_p_7kdmI50XF0ufmqKbo1fEhEqy5JAiUKRpa8H8xpXunwYRN-I8pmk8S0JRGvNMDw=s800" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="800" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEivn7AUfEBftClT27gIInRXKlGJ8loyivMnrJg-3pweg8DlrqSHdik3J6ELaJRtZ45bmYoOfBUehZHbJ3xiSk9NTXej6XNwsMu9OHkZ5rKaTOv-6Lztry15I_p_7kdmI50XF0ufmqKbo1fEhEqy5JAiUKRpa8H8xpXunwYRN-I8pmk8S0JRGvNMDw=s320" width="320" /></a></div><b><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">Since our beautiful dog, Ava, died in September last year, wildlife has returned to our garden. The birds linger longer. The king skinks and blue tongues slither about with more courage. The possums seem more active at night. And, unfortunately, we have had more mice and rats. There is one little critter, however, that avoids a positive identification. This little fella only appears as the light is fading and skips along the fence and branches in our front courtyard. He is fast. He is small. He could be a small rat or a rather fat mouse. But we suspect he is a dunnart. For those not familiar, a dunnart is an Australian, nocturnal, carnivorous marsupial. It looks rather mouse-like - especially when it hops briskly past the window at dusk. It has become somewhat of a family challenge to get more than a brief glimpse of this critter to positively identify its species. <br /></span></i></b><p></p><p><b><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">A few days ago, I had my best sighting yet. It was a rare evening where I was the only one home. There was none of the usual background noise associated with family time and getting a meal prepared. I sat in the lounge chair closest to the front courtyard. It was quiet. It was still. The elusive dunnart appeared and, unusually, lingered a while. It sat on the fence - waiting. I sat still trying to focus on the sillhouette. Definitely a dunnart - - I think! I was reluctant to move closer, knowing I would startle it and send it hopping. It was but a moment. A moment of stillness and clarity and wonder.</span></i></b></p><p><b><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">This experience reminded me of my desire to live a contemplative life. I know, from experience, that when I am able to be silent and still I am more likely to see the Divine with more clarity. There is still mystery and the unknown, but for a moment we meet. It is not something that can be captured or repeated, but it beckons us to return and be still again. It is very easy to become caught up in the busyness of life and completely miss the "dunnart" living amongst us. It is when we intentionally find the space to be still and wait that we may be surprised by the presence already in our midst.</span></i></b></p>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-57026938590516499662022-01-10T08:48:00.001+08:002022-01-10T08:48:42.836+08:00I Can See Clearly Now<p> <b><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">Back in 2017 I attended a week long workshop with Pace e Bene on non-violence. Things were shifting and changing for me at the time. There were many great aspects to that week, but the one super significant thing I walked away with was a short story from Scripture. The five-verse narrative of Jesus healing a blind man in Mark 8 captured my attention. It became like an analogy for my current situation and has continued to speak to me since that day.</span></i></b></p><p><b><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">Last year, I facilitated a day retreat for the World Community for Christian Meditation in Perth. I based the day's reflections on this story and chose the theme 'I can see clearly now'. I approached the day with a little apprehension, as is often the case when I prepare for an unknown audience. The day was a delight!! About 50 people attended and participated with both contemplative intent and great enthusiasm. The day included discussion, personal reflection, immersing in the story through movement and even a bit of singing! We journeyed through the story together exploring what it means to see clearly in our faith life.</span></i></b></p><p><b><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">The WCCM group of Margaret River have asked me to repeat the day in the South West. The date is fast approaching and I am excited to see how a different group repsonds to this narrative. This retreat day will be held on the 5th of February at the Margaret River Uniting Church. You can see further details in the flyer below. If you would like to register you can <a href="https://events.humanitix.com/christian-meditation-day-retreat-pdka67id" target="_blank">click here</a>. Why not make a weekend of it?! In case you haven't heard - Margaret River is a great place for a getaway.</span></i></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjkF13pGl36qZc0m7VXPb9Wwq_xvjRU3JILkMK7w99tfWQGbin4IGb9pKsPlQ1cxsJvHCjPdEDHJoEMqHWP3dtvl6JEUnyHHzvb1ft65EHjQwEJSIWZ-bp4FNiG-5qJY5LpoELyd8eoi0yS3_RgS-ApJI8a2z4a4uRg3Z0LltcEG9j4QuYKIeJGWA=s765" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="765" data-original-width="534" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjkF13pGl36qZc0m7VXPb9Wwq_xvjRU3JILkMK7w99tfWQGbin4IGb9pKsPlQ1cxsJvHCjPdEDHJoEMqHWP3dtvl6JEUnyHHzvb1ft65EHjQwEJSIWZ-bp4FNiG-5qJY5LpoELyd8eoi0yS3_RgS-ApJI8a2z4a4uRg3Z0LltcEG9j4QuYKIeJGWA=w446-h640" width="446" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-20796632357374699422021-12-31T10:35:00.000+08:002021-12-31T10:35:46.067+08:002022 Word of the Year - Accordance<p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>My word for 2021 has been '<a href="http://www.deepwaterdwelling.com.au/2021/01/presence-my-2021-word-of-year.html" target="_blank">presence</a>'. This word, and my reflections upon it, have served me well throughout the year. I have tried to be more present in different aspects of life which, in turn, have enabled me to be more available. I have also reflected on my own gift of presence which I still struggle to fully comprehend, but I end the year more aware and able to celebrate it.</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>Those of you who have read <a href="http://www.deepwaterdwelling.com.au/p/reflections-and-writings.html" target="_blank">previous years' word of the year posts</a> know the word is not always easily forthcoming. This year is different. This word came to me over a week ago and has not left me alone. It is also a word I would have never have imagined myself choosing. The word 'accordance' seems quite legalistic and judgmental to me. I imagine a judge declaring that someone has not lived in accordance with the law, or some pious person informing me I haven't quite lived up to the expected standard. Although I am not a particularly rebellious person, I have spent the last few years attempting to fight the perceived need to conform and keep the peace. So, this word has come as a surprise.</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>Looking into the etymology of the word 'accord' has helped me understand its </i></b></span><b style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;"><i><b style="text-align: left;"><i>importance in my life at this point. The Old French origins, dating back to the twelfth century, are about agreement and harmony. It is however, the Vulgar Latin origins that ring true: to be of one heart or to bring heart to heart. For me, this is about integrity. Over the last decade I have spent a lot of time discovering my true self - the me I was before I was. While living life in accordance with your true self should be the most natural thing in the world, I find that the expectations of our society convince us to be something else. The lure of success, wealth, admiration and a myriad of other things constantly divert me away from my centre and stability. </i></b></i></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i><b style="text-align: left;"><i><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZFbN-poYp-Kvp-j4XXQONL-v9Sh4xd_O8e9hbSG9Xuj7rjG3A5mYMWTg13XlNTeq6Z9MWzkYoA2UI8z3RxeLqu8yVluuYhBx8LNMmEtUlI-dEqXTDzdSHj4hV49dUV-SsVO3is8Sjk2fveK8DJDlIpT5gelFeASkDBqxqC90Wc-zUG_5MUrKEQw=s442" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="361" data-original-width="442" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZFbN-poYp-Kvp-j4XXQONL-v9Sh4xd_O8e9hbSG9Xuj7rjG3A5mYMWTg13XlNTeq6Z9MWzkYoA2UI8z3RxeLqu8yVluuYhBx8LNMmEtUlI-dEqXTDzdSHj4hV49dUV-SsVO3is8Sjk2fveK8DJDlIpT5gelFeASkDBqxqC90Wc-zUG_5MUrKEQw=s320" width="320" /></a></i></i></b></i></b></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>So, in 2022, I want to live in accordance to the heart of my life that I know to be real. I want to bring the heart of my living in line with the heart of my life more and more. But to be clear - I am not going to do this in a legalistic manner. I know I will stuff up. I know there will be times when I get caught up in what the world expects of me. But, in all my imperfection, if I can come to the end of 2022 and say I gave it a good shot I will be content. To live in accordance with my true self, who I was created to be, takes a lifetime of humility and unlearning. 2022 will be just a small step along the way.</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></p><p><br /></p>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-11232718295519709172021-01-01T09:40:00.000+08:002021-01-01T09:40:19.796+08:00Presence - My 2021 Word of the Year<p> <span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><b>Happy New Year to you all!! As is my tradition over the last ten years or so now, January 1st is the day to name and explore my word for the year ahead. My word for 2020 was "<a href="http://www.deepwaterdwelling.com.au/2020/01/toward-horizon.html" target="_blank">horizon</a>". Despite my own personal reasons for choosing this word, it seemed particularly relevant with the uncertainties we all faced throughout the year. It is a word that could have quite happily continued journeying ahead into 2021, but this new year calls for a new focus. Over the last week I have been searching for a word that will ground me in my last year of my PhD, that will bring me back to the core of who I am and will provide a positive focus forward to the unknowns of 2022. The word itself had remained elusive until last night.</b></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><b>One of the benefits of living in Western Australia is the free television reviews available on my Facebook feed from friends in the Eastern states who are three hours ahead. At around 7pm, my Facebook feed was aflood with praise for Paul Kelly's performance on the New Year's Eve concert broadcast on the ABC. I trusted these people's judgment and tuned in. I was not disappointed. As I listened to familiar tunes and watched the tweets roll along the bottom of the screen, I pondered this man's presence. There were no big flashy lights. No specky visuals. No dancers. No fancy costumes. Just him, his band and the camera operators capturing the moment for all of us. Due to COVID restrictions there was no crowd hyping up the atmosphere. Just Paul Kelly being Paul Kelly. This man has presence.</b></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><b>Presence is a word I use often. In the practice of spiritual direction we constantly talk about the importance of presence with the person who sits before us. In the mystical tradition, the presence of the Divine is an enduring theme. While talking about the contemplative way of life, presence is a vital part of the conversation. This "talk" has become second nature to me. But what about the practice? I recognise that it is easy for me to get caught up in the "What next?" of life. I am constantly searching for the next challenge, the next adventure, the next horizon (hmm). Perhaps a year of holding presence at the forefront might be very timely.</b></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><b>Another aspect of this word that I find more difficult to reflect upon is the gift of presence. I recall being in an interview situation some ten years ago now. Someone in the meeting asked me what gifts I felt I would bring to the role. I floundered a little, speaking of some practical skills I felt I could offer this community. After my attempt to answer the question, a member of the group who had known me for some time spoke up. "Presence" she said. "She has a presence that will be a gift to you". I have pondered on this comment for many years wondering what it means and how this "gift" is useful. Others have said the same thing in different ways. Is it something impossible for me to see and know? Isn't presence just being yourself? Isn't it something everyone has? How do you nurture and use such a gift?</b></i></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS8tA6VKdi26TThCKd7GClzhxbIAi8-fGgZuT3E1cq_KIspvK0KY-M845KQlzkxsQ22AXTllXDHxuyFeopDFMV2uNiT5uK9ngKeCN_B3KS2MCUz4pSzfoh_3031bFXtwIyttObFCaa/s2048/IMG_6291.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS8tA6VKdi26TThCKd7GClzhxbIAi8-fGgZuT3E1cq_KIspvK0KY-M845KQlzkxsQ22AXTllXDHxuyFeopDFMV2uNiT5uK9ngKeCN_B3KS2MCUz4pSzfoh_3031bFXtwIyttObFCaa/s320/IMG_6291.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><b>And so, as I venture into a year where I will need to have confidence in myself and what I have to say, a year when I will explore the giftedness I take into the next chapter of my life and a year when my youngest will begin to spread her wings changing my role in her life - presence seems an appropriate word to hold close. As I journey with this word into 2021, I will endeavour to find time to practice presence more intentionally and to explore the gift of my own presence and what on earth that means. <br /></b></i></span><p></p>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-55615086483736454982020-10-05T09:15:00.002+08:002020-10-05T09:15:11.089+08:00Tricking Myself into Self-Care<p> <span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>Recently, I have been reading and writing a bit about the importance of self-knowledge as part of the spiritual journey. Getting to know myself has been an an extremely significant aspect of my spiritual life. Learning to accept who I am, with all the joys and struggles that holds, has been valuable and formative. So, after being on this path for some time now, what have I learnt? </i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>1. Learning and new experiences are near the top of my priority list. I am a perpetual student, which has its advantages, but also locks me inside my head at times.</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>2. I have to be really attentive to what my body is telling me. Listening to my 'gut' and slowing down and looking after myself don't come naturally.</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>3. I can be very in tune with the emotions of others, but when it comes to my own I am quick to retreat to my bubble. Being vulnerable is something I have to practice.</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>My list could go on and on. But the reason I am sharing this is I have figured out a way to trick myself into looking after myself a little better - I hope.</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>In the past, I have tried being self-disciplined, creating some program of exercise in order to live a healthier life. Each time I have centred my goals around weight loss or particular fitness goals. None of these have been successful beyond a few months. I pondered, what would motivate me to get outside and start walking? My immediate reaction - if someone invited me to walk the Camino de Santiago, I would make sure I was fit enough and ready. A new experience! A spiritual pilgrimage! Travel and learning about a new place! Perfect!</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>But then, there's COVID, and money, and time, and family, and study, and...</i></b></span></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqcSVzWlZ1Ood_fZCVO0lE3kOetYlJ-Fd0ktgyEZcpCLPfgNqVNqOcrx9QyRoWrmdKl80aNdrZm1HVf7xC4cPSIyJvvB0JWTMn78pDzK9uuvt8YybBiVx3K2iThrktOBS4dOo7RU8C/s259/camino.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqcSVzWlZ1Ood_fZCVO0lE3kOetYlJ-Fd0ktgyEZcpCLPfgNqVNqOcrx9QyRoWrmdKl80aNdrZm1HVf7xC4cPSIyJvvB0JWTMn78pDzK9uuvt8YybBiVx3K2iThrktOBS4dOo7RU8C/w283-h212/camino.jpg" width="283" /></a><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>So, I have found the perfect solution. Today I begin a virtua</i></b></span><b style="font-family: georgia;"><i>l walk of the Camino. It's cost me $50. I don't have to leave home for weeks and weeks. And I can do it over a longer period of time. I'm giving myself 6 months. Sure, it's not quite the same as being there (maybe one day), but the app I have chosen shows</i></b></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i> me where I am on the map, sends me postcards telling me about the different stops and sends me a medal at the end (not so fussed about the medal). It is the perfect way to trick myself into self-care. This is not a weight loss program or a get fit for Summer goal. This is a spiritual pilgrimage - a new experience that is the best I can do anyway in these non-travelling times.</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>And the final part of my cunning plan - I have now put it out in public. Another thing I know about myself is I hate to look incapable. So, if you happen to see me, hold me accountable. I won't be sharing how many KGs I've lost, but I might share about the wonderful places I've been.</i></b></span></p>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-67990252678054275232020-06-26T09:50:00.000+08:002020-06-26T09:50:09.500+08:00Methodology of Life<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>A lot of my writing energy in the last few months has been spent writing my thesis and other related projects. The current task is completing the draft of my methodology chapter. I anticipated this to be a dry, boring section to write, but, to my surprise, I am thoroughly enjoying the challenge.</b></i></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE_H5HlBGvFfwO15o4vbfEJErhPTr_2ujMjXcMqebWy77sAbs9NM0PRNlWY-aYAV26l7j-Jkt01IqynRMypchlJifuJYOuQzolgg4MHjqjlFoS12yk4SEuHFw_2vmLy3iB1utTDGWC/s1600/OSE-Methodology-620.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="191" data-original-width="191" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE_H5HlBGvFfwO15o4vbfEJErhPTr_2ujMjXcMqebWy77sAbs9NM0PRNlWY-aYAV26l7j-Jkt01IqynRMypchlJifuJYOuQzolgg4MHjqjlFoS12yk4SEuHFw_2vmLy3iB1utTDGWC/s200/OSE-Methodology-620.jpg" width="200" /></a></b></i></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>Yes, there are some parts that are simply outlining the details; making sure all the t's are crossed and the i's are dotted. However, there are also those big question to answer. What do I believe about the nature of knowledge? How is knowledge formed? And what are my non-negotiable underlying principles? I am using a lot of big words that a few years ago would have me running to the dictionary.</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>I am also asking deep questions about who I am, particularly in the context of my research. What does it mean to be a woman? A contemplative spiritual director? A church minister? These ponderings are especially significant as I see my self as co-creator of the knowledge I am seeking. The answers to all of these questions determine how I collect data, how I approach my sample group, how I analyse the data and the shape of my final thesis. Creating my framework of reference will colour all of my research. It will be the foundation to which I will refer when questions and doubts arise. Justifying my choices is a little like "soul searching". In grappling with this chapter I am addressing issues of integrity, good relationship, and my view of the spiritual life.</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>My thesis may be large and looming in my life, but in the whole scheme of things is a mere speck. I am wondering what our world would look like if we all had to create our methodology of life. What if we had to examine, in the same way, what is truly important to us? What if we really had to question how we were involved in the lives of others? What is we truly understood the underlying principles in our own lives that hold so much significance? </b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>I dare say it would be extremely confronting. Instead of reacting to life around us, each choice made and each interaction or conversation would be held against our plumb line. I wonder what would change. I wonder what parts of my life I would need to look at closely in the mirror. If I'm honest, the "thesis"of my life would not pass. I am not saying this in a defeatist or "Woe is me - a sinner" type of manner, but more an acknowledgment of human nature.</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>The methodology I have chosen for my research comes from a subjective viewpoint. I am acknowledging that, as the researcher, I cannot be a passive, unbiased voice. This requires me to be extremely transparent in my writing about my insights and reactions to the data. It demands moving beyond reflective practice to a high level of reflexivity where I examine myself as I engage in my analysis.</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>We cannot go through life as an objective observer and, therefore, this same transparency and reflexivity is needed in a methodology of life. Perhaps knowledge of our own nature, an awareness of strengths, weaknesses and passions, is a great place to start. Recognising when we are not operating at our best and knowing how our own needs trigger unhealthy responses all affect how we relate to others and our world. Taking a step back from the to-ing and fro-ing of life is a bit like asking those big questions. What is it that makes me tick? It may appear like a dry and tedious task, but perhaps surprises await just around the corner. </b></i></span>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-41598533536634736432020-01-01T09:19:00.000+08:002020-01-01T09:19:45.411+08:00Toward the Horizon<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>Happy New Year!! Today many people will begin their year with steely determination to achieve their new year's resolutions in order to be a better person. I discovered long ago that such resolutions were counterproductive for me. Being a person who already sets the bar too high for myself, the last thing I need is another unreachable expectation forced upon myself. Instead, I have enjoyed the tradition of giving myself a word for the year. Rather than a challenge that seems to set me up for failure, my word of the year is a constant, gentle reminder throughout the year. Some years it seems more present than others, however, when I reflect back over the year, I can always see how the word has formed and guided me. My word for 2019 was "<a href="http://www.deepwaterdwelling.com.au/2019/01/behold-new-year.html" target="_blank">behold</a>". It is not a commonly used word, but I have been surprised how many times I have heard it and been reminded of my intentions in choosing this word. </i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>This year the word came easily. I began reflecting a few weeks ago and thought the process was going to be difficult. In many ways, the words of the last few years have served me well; courage, integrity, awaken, cherish. The coming year holds many uncertainties and I seem continually plagued with the question of what lies beyond it. While being very peaceful about the path I am following, it still feels like a journey into the unknown. I was pondering this as I was driving last week. Looking way out ahead of me, I wondered how many people have headed towards the horizon a little unsure of their destination. </i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>And so, I have chosen the word "horizon" for 2020. It is that perceived line where earth and sky meet. It is not something you can touch and one could argue it doesn't physically exist<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQCL0wxT1XSMVJoh0pUMS2YKV3zBU2HpLhxUfTd0mE5MDPs1p3LEED3oVdWd4n2AVCtA7oQU5GvNv8MKlLpB37WsMxgBKGqlgFo45hRUxREUkPOa41YMguuNtLINKsNoYjjdlADNW/s1600/IMG_5836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQCL0wxT1XSMVJoh0pUMS2YKV3zBU2HpLhxUfTd0mE5MDPs1p3LEED3oVdWd4n2AVCtA7oQU5GvNv8MKlLpB37WsMxgBKGqlgFo45hRUxREUkPOa41YMguuNtLINKsNoYjjdlADNW/s320/IMG_5836.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eden Beach Sunset - Christmas Day</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
. The horizon is a place of mystery and beauty. It is here that we watch the sun rise and set. But, no matter how ambiguous the horizon may be, it still offers direction and draws people to explore further. The horizon is always beyond our reach, but is the steadfast point that helps us to get our bearings, orient ourselves in the world and foster a sense of wonder in life.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>In 2020 I need a horizon to remind me of the journey ahead. The horizon will remind me to pause and appreciate. It will serve as a catalyst to draw me onwards to an unknown destination. That imaginary line will give me direction and orientation when I feel a little lost. But even though the horizon may seem unchanging, the points along it change from day to day. I am hoping that this word will carry me through 2020 with a wider vision, a broader hope and an everpresent spirit that will guide me through the uncertainties.</i></b></span>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-10279153356443836612019-11-22T20:30:00.000+08:002019-11-22T20:30:26.822+08:00Gifted a Dancer<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For quite a while now, the image of dancing has been significant in my spiritual journey. I recall moments on retreats and in my own journalling where dance has been extremely symbolic in my own learning about myself and my "calling" in life. Some of you will know that my daughter dances. It is the most important thing in her life, and, therefore, has become a large part of my life too. The costumes, the glitter, the hair, the makeup - it's all very exciting. One of my greatest joys is watching her dance (whatever style it may be). Being surrounded by dance has been a gift to me, a constant reminder of the space I need to be myself. Here is a reflection I wrote recently, after watching her annual dance concert.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></i></b>
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Gifted a Dancer</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></i></b>
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Long before I was gifted a dancer,</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I danced myself.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A taste of tap, a year of ballroom,</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and a decent dose of ballet.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After doing my bit as a snowflake,</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">a Turkish delight and a lilac fairy,</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">it didn't take a prima ballerina</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">to recognise my need to pursue other skills.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></i></b>
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Shortly after I was gifted a dancer,</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">but before we knew there was more than Wiggles bopping,</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I discovered my name of grace.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sartika, sacred dancer,</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">one who hears the silent music</span></i></b><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwbd8dfeqzTUIpnD3hlHygrMD8Z0GzGbSKvenAWQD9iDCeOynD5g66MES1pkSy6yvVazfGbwffGjQ4qI9nVqCWkbKKomHq4Y3H6914JW752uFP5hoHhQYmkluCgLnRTaVZLqbfZkm7/s1600/IMG_1018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwbd8dfeqzTUIpnD3hlHygrMD8Z0GzGbSKvenAWQD9iDCeOynD5g66MES1pkSy6yvVazfGbwffGjQ4qI9nVqCWkbKKomHq4Y3H6914JW752uFP5hoHhQYmkluCgLnRTaVZLqbfZkm7/s320/IMG_1018.JPG" width="320" /></a><b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and moves to the beat of her own drum.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></i></b>
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As I first realised I had been gifted a dancer,</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I found my soul space,</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">my ballroom, full of pedestals and expectations,</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">with no space to dance.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The music had faded,</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">drifted off to a distant place,</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and the sacred dance became a dirge.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></i></b>
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As I wonder at the dancer I have been gifted,</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">as I see her blossom,</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">growing in strength, maturing in expression,</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">floating and turning with such freedom,</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am encouraged to clear the way</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">for the sacred dance to continue</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and for the music to return.</span></i></b>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-82494784209178250772019-08-30T11:15:00.000+08:002019-08-30T11:15:51.845+08:00Crows and Ordination - Continuing Discernment<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgldg4Rnx4HKS3GqVG1M-OCktp3HEPrB-zMDLMAlR-gCpAkvFeqt86OzFsNR3qeB3wLgG2zIPQCeqsQaOCSUYWfUtdMfYR0xzeMBPdSEQL1OP-k8vLi_5A1EItxxEGUpbUJS2Ni85YY/s1600/DSC_0020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgldg4Rnx4HKS3GqVG1M-OCktp3HEPrB-zMDLMAlR-gCpAkvFeqt86OzFsNR3qeB3wLgG2zIPQCeqsQaOCSUYWfUtdMfYR0xzeMBPdSEQL1OP-k8vLi_5A1EItxxEGUpbUJS2Ni85YY/s320/DSC_0020.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>Today marks the tenth anniversary of my ordination. Ten years ago I stood in Penrhos Chapel surrounded by friends and family as people said special prayers and words that changed my life. Ten years ago I knelt as mentors and colleagues placed their hands on me and prayed for the Spirit to strengthen and gift me for this calling. Ten years ago it seemed the possibilities were endless, I was excited, full of anticipation - I was ready. Today I find myself in a very different space and I ask myself what these ten years of ordination mean while on a leave of absence from ministry. </i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I have come to realise over the last two years that my view of ordination was rather narrow. There were a few choices: chaplaincy (school, hospital, palliative care, defence forces), congregational ministry or a position within the church institution. I had a go at school chaplaincy for a few years. I enjoyed this placement, but discerned that it was time to move on and minister in a congregation. I spent seven great years ministering with the Margaret River and Augusta congregations and during this time discovered so much about myself. And then everything hit the fan - so to speak.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></i></b>
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I began to experience those familiar niggles and nudges that have become a sign to me that the next chapter is unfolding just over the page. Terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, the rollercoaster of discernment began once again. But the journey has seemed to end off the rails in some wasteland beyond the amusement park. Some people have politely questioned my decisions and at times I have felt like a disappointment to the church. However, I made the choice to be authentic to my sense of calling even when it seemed out of place. I have been constantly asking myself what church, ministry and ordination looks like beyond the bounds of the box I had created.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></i></b>
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I may well have still been stuck in this spot if it hadn't been for a drama production I experienced while at the Common Dreams conference in Sydney last month. Rev Alex Sangster performed a solo piece titled 'Crow' over three days. Full of symbolism and emotion, the drama touched on themes of death, ordination, revelation and relationship. For me, it spoke deeply into my own situation and struggles to understand this space I now find myself.</span></i></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcPP7eI2l2xWMoZbbB5aMpCELnLUV9tEN-k5AyRBKSO2nKEHnVhze7-eaDjQSuPCpaWJGe8rr7Wbnzh8EeanybarGVrcatVhyphenhyphenb9_dvhW-dMDsgJNYOs_gKgV3E0z_QCBbl1yfvnlYD/s1600/Crow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="355" data-original-width="474" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcPP7eI2l2xWMoZbbB5aMpCELnLUV9tEN-k5AyRBKSO2nKEHnVhze7-eaDjQSuPCpaWJGe8rr7Wbnzh8EeanybarGVrcatVhyphenhyphenb9_dvhW-dMDsgJNYOs_gKgV3E0z_QCBbl1yfvnlYD/s320/Crow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></i></b>
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As Alex portrayed her character, with all her insecurities and questions, I found myself resting more easily into my own journey. As I watched her becoming more okay with her sense of 'being' rather than 'doing', so too I became more comfortable in seeing my ministry in terms of the person I am rather than the tasks I conquer. As I experienced the presence of the crow interweaving through all the dialogue, the struggles and the peace, I too became more trusting of the continuing presence that is guiding me through this strange land.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></i></b>
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And so, as I look back over ten years of ordination, ten years of setting my life apart for whatever God calls me into next, I am content that this space is where I am supposed to be right now. It may not be what others expected from me, or even what I expected myself, but it is proving to be a place that is surprising and fruitful. I keep listening for the crow and look forward to what adventures the next ten years will bring.</span></i></b>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-36414883713350334772019-08-08T21:44:00.000+08:002019-08-08T21:44:16.777+08:00When things come full circle<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>I am not often good with remembering details, but I have a distinct memory of the morning I told the Augusta congregation of my intentions to take a leave of absence to pursue further study. I was extremely nervous about how they would receive the news. We were still in the Easter season and I was preaching on the passage where Paul is in Athens and talks with the people about their "unknown God". We explored what can be known of God and what is mystery. I shared the feelings of vulnerability that we have when telling others of our personal experiences of God. At the end of the service I announced that in about a year I would be leaving my ministry with them to begin a new path.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>One of the reasons that morning is stuck so firmly in my mind, apart from my whirlwind of emotions, was the present of a visitor. The lady snuck into the church moments before the service was due to start and I only had time for a quick smile and a hello, before worship begun. She participated throughout the service and seemed comfortable, but as the end of the service drew closer my discomfort rose. It felt strange having a visitor present for my announcement. I was nervous enough as it was. During morning tea I introduced myself properly to the visitor and apologised that she had arrived on an unusual morning. As it turned out, we had a great chat and she gave me her email address to send her my message from the service to revisit.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>An email conversation had begun and the visitor told me that she was gathering spiritual stories from women to compile a book that would encourage other women to share their experiences and stories. She asked me if I would be willing to share my story of discernment. Part of me felt like running, or at least politely declining. But another part of me heard again my own sermon encouraging me to be a little vulnerable in order to encourage and empower others. At any rate, it would be a good exercise to write about this journey and how God had been working through it. I wrote it up and pressed send on the email before I could back out.</i></b></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFnUDfTUf-ghAquJ_xTDHDfmkSc4N7M9Iz3KBU4p1zv-y0ame1dlof9G9NAItPBjoY4HW9BefGyXHe-SsmamlMrDECDjP0pRa9gaeWV8so8MHNwyZOapgW-Jo7PmW9Yx9lZAtV4RvA/s1600/il_570xN.311020733.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="588" data-original-width="570" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFnUDfTUf-ghAquJ_xTDHDfmkSc4N7M9Iz3KBU4p1zv-y0ame1dlof9G9NAItPBjoY4HW9BefGyXHe-SsmamlMrDECDjP0pRa9gaeWV8so8MHNwyZOapgW-Jo7PmW9Yx9lZAtV4RvA/s320/il_570xN.311020733.jpg" width="310" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>That was two years ago. I have received the occasional email from the visitor from time to time updating me and letting me know it is still in her plans. At one point she even asked me to add a little to the end to update the story. Every now and then I have wondered whether anything will ever come of her dream to publish these stories. Well... yesterday I received an email from her saying she had finally submitted the 14 stories to a publisher. Her dream was becoming a reality. It made me smile to think how this had all come full circle. It began on a morning when I was feeling particularly vulnerable sharing my experience of God's calling in life. It escalated in an invitation to share ore deeply that story with whoever might choose to read this lady's book. And now, two years later, I am about to begin listening to the stories of other women's experiences of God in an effort to find ways to empower and encourage women to name the "unknown God" in their lives. In some ways this strange story of the visitor and her mysterious book has been underlying my journey and I look forward to how it will continue in the next chapter.</i></b></span>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-21136086592391162102019-07-30T15:19:00.000+08:002019-07-30T15:19:10.090+08:00The "Well" Spaces we Create<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>On Friday afternoon I had the privilege of being the guest speaker at Bunbury's Australian Church Women's Fellowship Day Service. It is one of a few ecumenical worship services run by a small local committee throughout the year. The theme for the service was "Women at the Well: Conversing Open Heartedly with Jesus", based on John 4. I couldn't turn down an opportunity to revisit my favourite scripture from another angle with another group of people.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>I decided to concentrate on the well as the stage on which this scene is set. I recounted three personal stories of encounters with the Divine at three different wells. Each story holds great significance and each teaches me something about my relationship with God and other people. If you would like to read the whole message click <a href="https://drive.google.com/open?id=1FAgnLmhPrVQaXTGfsPe_X6ICNH9zHoQ8" target="_blank">here</a>. I brought my speech to a close by encouraging people to create "well" spaces for people to encounter the Divine; places that are surprising or unlikely, places that are welcoming and safe, places where people can rest, reflect and quench their thirst. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOwly4e63AqxwFG7MiGBgOs64qp7ADtcboFhEjGwm_U7vetE9u22Rx_wQ14gcwTN1rvb5fMGsaGiCKYYZbGuTXSgMrRdIkyj7K0bE5VqXN9U2weXo4z26oeI1HyZB5g71XJpXHVrq6/s1600/Jacob%2527s+Well.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOwly4e63AqxwFG7MiGBgOs64qp7ADtcboFhEjGwm_U7vetE9u22Rx_wQ14gcwTN1rvb5fMGsaGiCKYYZbGuTXSgMrRdIkyj7K0bE5VqXN9U2weXo4z26oeI1HyZB5g71XJpXHVrq6/s320/Jacob%2527s+Well.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jacob's Well, Nablus, West Bank</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>I shared the challenge to create "well" spaces wherever we find ourselves and not to feel they need to be confined within the walls of our sacred places or within the time slots we assign to holy things. I reminded people of our need to hold loosely to the wells we build and to focus instead upon the living water we are drawing upon. I encouraged people to see the ordinary and everyday as potential encounters with others and the Divine.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>What I didn't realise was that by simply being there and standing up the front to deliver my message, I had created a "well" space for at least a handful of women present. At the afternoon tea following the service, four Catholic women approached me and told me how meaningful it had been to hear a message from a woman that day. One shared that hearing the message from me had given her hope that she may have something of value to share from her own stories. I don't think it would have mattered what I had said for these women. This is something I certainly take for granted. I am used to women preaching, women leading and women's voices being heard. Somehow, however, within the "well" space of Friday's service a few women were able to connect with God in a new way that gave them hope. It had nothing to do with words, but everything to do with a shared encounter in a space that for that moment was gushing with living waters.</i></b></span>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-24275112513613152252019-05-14T10:07:00.000+08:002019-05-14T10:07:26.262+08:00Flourishing from Failure<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">If I fail to blog regularly it causes me problems. There is always something going on in my active mind, and a space of three or more weeks leaves me with the dilemma of which of the myriad of reflections floating in my brain to share. And so, this morning as I sit with this conundrum, I have landed on a memory from over a week ago that has stayed with me.</span></i></b><br />
<b></b><i></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Gta36CMtYsq6LFIaT6sU_uXjwiThgq3S85TFZjtsP1tjrEBlrFU1YgBXh_eg7UVlDI3McTZ6quXEeaxeEusG9lFaygCdVisHDQX08pHkeyh7xWZVIr1iuMiwRbkkswHkQqhiEwtf/s1600/Me+with+Leunig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Gta36CMtYsq6LFIaT6sU_uXjwiThgq3S85TFZjtsP1tjrEBlrFU1YgBXh_eg7UVlDI3McTZ6quXEeaxeEusG9lFaygCdVisHDQX08pHkeyh7xWZVIr1iuMiwRbkkswHkQqhiEwtf/s320/Me+with+Leunig.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>Margaret River has an awesome annual event, the Readers and Writers Festival. Each year they manage to secure great presenters from a variety of genres - some big names and other lesser known </i></b><b><i>authors. For the last few years I have managed to attend parts of the festival and hear some inspiring people share their stories. This year, Michael Leunig was on the program. Well, I wasn't going to pass up that opportunity. </i></b></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd6Zk80DkVjhgsf4uMtDQBgSCmrqepUnAsHQx8fWCoPoJXgNOYxeWnPzgwPitm8pLuWDwccc9p69ObpfLJPJC8n95jIswotFomG4O9mKDPS-XkwyIY3HIkD1dKmNrskE-ZAV3gERZH/s1600/Leunig+cartoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><b></b><i></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He was just like I imagined he would be - quiet, humble, calm and funny. His talk seemed unplanned and spontaneous as he sat with a white board in front of him demonstrating how his characters came to life for him. But amongst the simplistic cartoons there were some real pearls of wisdom. The one that has stuck with me concerned deadlines and failure, perhaps because I was about to face a deadline myself.</span></i></b><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd6Zk80DkVjhgsf4uMtDQBgSCmrqepUnAsHQx8fWCoPoJXgNOYxeWnPzgwPitm8pLuWDwccc9p69ObpfLJPJC8n95jIswotFomG4O9mKDPS-XkwyIY3HIkD1dKmNrskE-ZAV3gERZH/s1600/Leunig+cartoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1202" data-original-width="1364" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd6Zk80DkVjhgsf4uMtDQBgSCmrqepUnAsHQx8fWCoPoJXgNOYxeWnPzgwPitm8pLuWDwccc9p69ObpfLJPJC8n95jIswotFomG4O9mKDPS-XkwyIY3HIkD1dKmNrskE-ZAV3gERZH/s200/Leunig+cartoon.jpg" width="200" /></a><b></b><i></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Leunig shared his dislike of deadlines. He walked us through his lead up to a deadline, surprisingly starting only two hours before (that was enough to make me anxious). There was something on the page, but it lacked a sparkle, something to make it something. The harder he tried to make it good, the worse it seemed to get until he decided he was a failure. His mind went into a space where the inner voice called him a fraud, an idiot for ever believing he could do this. He had failed.</span></i></b><br />
<b></b><i></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But, he described, this is where the magic happened. When the ego was stripped away and was out of the way, all that was left was his humble, creative self. This is when the raw, real work of the soul begins that we know in Leunig's work. In short, Leunig's philosophy is that failure is necessary for truly creative work to begin and we must embrace it in our lives.</span></i></b><br />
<b></b><i></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I guess his sentiments rang true for me as I prepared to send my PhD writing to my confirmation panel readers. I had been working on this for many months and it was time to put the chapter together. It ended up 6000 words too long and seemed like a jumbled mess of thoughts. Only a few weeks out from my deadline (not a few hours - thank goodness!!) I sent it to my supervisor feeling a little like a fraud. I can't even pull one chapter together and I have a whole thesis in front of me. </span></i></b><br />
<b></b><i></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">After a minor panic, a moment of failure, and some good advice to revisit my research question I sat down to begin again. Not from scratch, but from a different perspective. It was less about getting the words right and the referencing correct, and more about sticking with my passion and initial intent. I'm not sure it has the sparkle that Leunig looks for - it is still an academic piece of writing. The looming deadline and the moment of failure, however, did change how I approached the task.</span></i></b><br />
<b></b><i></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I did feel a little like a groupie the day I met Leunig. I had carefully selected a book for him to sign and raced from the main marquee to get close to the front of the signing line. Fortunately, the line was not too long as he took his time with each person. He was attentive to each one and I will never forget the slow and deliberate way he wrote my name. A true contemplative it seemed, who although in his own dreamy world, has a calm and whimsical way of interacting with the world.</span></i></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitWmBETH28srSJg_pOrKDp7vpC9cChQZlfHIh_C1Y4IUOZJhEMF4uj4Lt7NK2_zi4ICzlYeX_-En_59RnsV9mIys2KLqjKyxB2-3d6NQCfpBnp_VU9vdGn1LMNQCgFqrhYzMxMaNoM/s1600/Signing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="753" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitWmBETH28srSJg_pOrKDp7vpC9cChQZlfHIh_C1Y4IUOZJhEMF4uj4Lt7NK2_zi4ICzlYeX_-En_59RnsV9mIys2KLqjKyxB2-3d6NQCfpBnp_VU9vdGn1LMNQCgFqrhYzMxMaNoM/s320/Signing.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></i></b></div>
Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-74777057500119051862019-04-21T09:19:00.001+08:002019-04-21T09:19:48.660+08:00A Wordless Easter<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">In the last few weeks I have been writing a lot of words. Words from my head, mostly, but on a topic close to my heart. It is not because I approach Easter with no words left that I find myself wordless at this point.</span></i></b><br />
<b></b><i></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Someone asked me, the other day, if I miss all the preparations for Easter worship, being my first year in quite some time this is not part of my routine. Although the high seasons are always a very creative and challenging time to prepare worship, and I did enjoy that, my answer was "Not at all". </span></i></b><br />
<b></b><i></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The reason? I am tired from trying to find the right words to describe what is, ultimately, an entire mystery, that words cannot adequately describe. And so, in risk of resorting to words once again here, I am content to sit in the dark, shadows of the dawn garden waiting for someone to call my name. It is here in the silence and stillness that I will see the door of new life swing open once again. Happy Easter everyone!</span></i></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4QMznB04q15m_1tzESL2wH_BPQFrOMVBhA5n_RA1srwhkeclB8IOSm6IZJd0RbOphKqQ7O2iLxc-lQL-cOnDsVWITVkEGF4tJQOoAuosVFqyksFk4agtiJ9JwUUMLmFYfUp5bVcn/s1600/IMG_5044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="640" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4QMznB04q15m_1tzESL2wH_BPQFrOMVBhA5n_RA1srwhkeclB8IOSm6IZJd0RbOphKqQ7O2iLxc-lQL-cOnDsVWITVkEGF4tJQOoAuosVFqyksFk4agtiJ9JwUUMLmFYfUp5bVcn/s320/IMG_5044.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></i></b></div>
Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-27411596599868228802019-03-20T09:53:00.000+08:002019-03-20T09:53:30.005+08:00A memory revisited<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>Over the last week, people have been reacting in a multitude of ways to the events of the world. We have witnessed anger, grief, compassion, ignorance, speeches from the heart, speeches out of necessity and speeches that should never have been made. It has all been a little overwhelming for many of us. A numb feeling of helplessness has been my reality. </i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>A memory from almost eight years ago has come to mind a few times over the last few days. Mostly, I have been ignoring it, but this morning decided to pay attention, give it a little time and see why it has emerged again in this time. This "moment", as I will describe it, occurred on a trip to Bali with friends. We had taken a day away from the shopping and the pool to cycle through the rice paddies and the more mountainous areas of inland Bali. It was an organised tour, visiting some businesses that encouraged us to spend our money, but then ventured through small villages and along precarious paths between rice paddies. It was my favourite day of the trip. I love seeing the real life of a place. Encounters with women sorting chillies, numerous chickens and pigs, workers in the rice fields and small village temples were among the highlights.</i></b></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOZfH2Zh2_efNcvKatMQD-9gb_Tgh71-mDnOBQWIPJWGqqIoMlXuFtaYAPLEzVFPGJbR-VLpDW1LU8jsF-8C5nnzxFN_qkunpLprJXUOGeYNsEWl7jEWwekcv0fS8Fcs92OLPAcSrR/s1600/P1060941.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOZfH2Zh2_efNcvKatMQD-9gb_Tgh71-mDnOBQWIPJWGqqIoMlXuFtaYAPLEzVFPGJbR-VLpDW1LU8jsF-8C5nnzxFN_qkunpLprJXUOGeYNsEWl7jEWwekcv0fS8Fcs92OLPAcSrR/s320/P1060941.JPG" width="320" /></a></i></b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>There was a moment amongst all of this, however, which I can remember like it was yesterday. We had been riding through the rice fields for a while and the tour guide stopped us for a break and to allow the stragglers to catch up. It was a quiet place, away from the noises of the village. The air was very still. The view was breathtaking. Across the valley came a haunting noise, a man chanting. I recall feeling like someone had grabbed hold of my soul. I was captivated. I asked the tour guide what the chanting might be about. He wasn't sure, perhaps a funeral, a call to prayer or a special occasion in the village. There was no need to know. The group prepared to move on and I was in another world. Eventually, my friends had to call to me to continue our tour.</i></b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>I filmed a little of this moment in an effort to hold on to it forever. It does the moment no justice at all, and only has the effect of igniting the vivid memory that is still alive within. And so, I am pondering why this moment has come back with such clarity this week. I think its about connection. In that moment, I felt a deep connection to the land, to the common humanity with the anonymous Hindu chanter across the valley, to my own sense of spirituality and to my own sense of the divine. It was a moment when all the barriers were removed and all seemed to dwell in perfect unity. </i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>Perhaps my soul is longing for a similar moment in this space and time. A moment when my soul is grabbed by the grief stricken chants across the waters and I can be present. A moment when the barriers fall down around me and all that is felt is peace and love. A moment where I can know deep connection and unity. A moment that stops me on the journey and holds me for a while in open hands. A moment to be still. Be quiet. And listen. This moment won't change the world, but I know it will change me.</i></b></span>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-71528523441216746372019-02-22T18:24:00.000+08:002019-02-22T18:24:50.089+08:00Cutting Comments and Catherine Wheels<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><i>Watching 'The Last Leg' this week I heard a comment made by Tom Allen, English comedian, that spoke straight into some of the thinking I have been doing lately. He said (something like), 'I have a feeling those trolls on Twitter would have been the same people that made sure they were in the front row of a public hanging.' In every age there seems to be a way of shaming people into submission. Public executions were a form of control and power over the masses. Using fear as a motivation, the authorities would enforce discipline by holding individuals up as an example. We may not be as physically brutal in today's society, however, there are equivalents in how we 'crucify' people in social media and the media at large.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6YbKH6GbLxtYBpRzQ0cQxOdMKg1-sM1CO4U2DThEexu96xP6-g3p_E41utK7Ohr2GwsFK-EsQ0HEL9gLujGerHD6qKiopCzRUWSYQgfdGofyGiQU__DRPfjVEKQZrFonnqxLmiXrR/s1600/catherine+wheel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="1024" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6YbKH6GbLxtYBpRzQ0cQxOdMKg1-sM1CO4U2DThEexu96xP6-g3p_E41utK7Ohr2GwsFK-EsQ0HEL9gLujGerHD6qKiopCzRUWSYQgfdGofyGiQU__DRPfjVEKQZrFonnqxLmiXrR/s320/catherine+wheel.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><i>I have always been quite taken by the Catherine Wheel firework. Initially, as a child, this fascination was about how special it was to have such a beautiful thing that had been given my name. It was a firework that lasted longer than others, was closer (being on the ground) and was exciting. Later, I learnt how the Catherine Wheel earned its name. It is named after St Catherine of Alexandria.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><i>St Catherine (287-305AD) was a princess and scholar living in the time of the pagan emperor Maxentius, known for his cruel ways. Legend states, at the age of 14 she became a Christian after experiencing visions of Mary and the Christ Child. Catherine went to Maxentius to appeal to him to turn from his cruel ways of persecution against Christians. The emperor ordered her execution. He brought 50 orators and scholars to speak with Catherine and give her a chance to change her ways. Her words were spoken so well that many of these 50 converted to Christianity and were immediately executed.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><i>Catherine was arrested, imprisoned and tortured. News of her immense faith spread and over 200 people came to visit her. Maxentius' last attempt to bring her around to his way of thinking was to ask for her hand in marriage. Catherine refused. She was sentenced to execution by breaking wheel, a torturous and painful way to die. As Catherine was brought before the wheel, she touched it and it shattered into many pieces. The emperor ordered that she be immediately beheaded.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><i>And so, the Catherine Wheel is also a symbol of faith, integrity and strength in the face of adversity. We may not be faced with the same fate as these martyrs from times long gone, but we may encounter ridicule, hateful words, slander or misrepresentation. When the fear of speaking out has silenced me and shoved me back in my box, the Catherine Wheel is a good reminder, a visual reminder, to stay firm in my inner faith, to speak with integrity and have courage in expressing my truth to others. A Catherine Wheel is bold, demands to be seen and is full of fire and passion. What an awesome image to hold in a world that can still be very cruel.</i></b></span>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-24327602853936958192019-02-19T09:21:00.001+08:002019-02-19T09:21:25.234+08:00A Sneaky Mandala<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPHZmNrBtnjvnM1QFt4u67nWyd9qzBdkW6a-yZA4zp-enmDyTw2YZuEheNRx6hMSax7VYKNX8LQtvDkm4u1Me-wand6WXcy4cWVCb59wz5ZDZjXSmki2cLCYvuCbQjXZRcxlKLtxb5/s1600/IMG_4931.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPHZmNrBtnjvnM1QFt4u67nWyd9qzBdkW6a-yZA4zp-enmDyTw2YZuEheNRx6hMSax7VYKNX8LQtvDkm4u1Me-wand6WXcy4cWVCb59wz5ZDZjXSmki2cLCYvuCbQjXZRcxlKLtxb5/s320/IMG_4931.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>Last weekend, I led a day retreat on the theme "A Hidden Wholeness". In the morning we explored the idea of wholeness and contrasted it with the expectation of perfection. We also reflected on what it means to embrace our whole self by reflecting on the idea of an inner village. In the afternoon, we created mandalas - a symbol of wholeness. </i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>While leading mandala workshops, I tend to hold back and just be available for people to seek me out if needed. Every now and then, however, I get a bit fidgety looking at all the art supplies and want to jump in with the group. This usually only happens when the group are very settled and well in to their creations. I stood there, watching the group, realising I hadn't made any time for mandalas in my own life this year and grabbed some paper. It is never quite the same as making my own space, as I am conscious of the group and still being available, but I still love giving myself permission to throw a bit of colour on the page.</i></b></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5f_NRqMfMLFjXir2A4YZA-PadBcWsEpMJpCZkKZeh4sRLpqpeiCd6p4OUH3mfNX1NnuJq0X_00x2Ym7XVXy6z24XurBY6ECYbKnk4oizGg2J7yz9gqaFSvUWZv-xRir300Biy28WL/s1600/IMG_4945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1570" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5f_NRqMfMLFjXir2A4YZA-PadBcWsEpMJpCZkKZeh4sRLpqpeiCd6p4OUH3mfNX1NnuJq0X_00x2Ym7XVXy6z24XurBY6ECYbKnk4oizGg2J7yz9gqaFSvUWZv-xRir300Biy28WL/s320/IMG_4945.jpg" width="314" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>I didn't take the time to reflect on my mandala at the retreat, but looking at it now I see a great reflection of my soul space right now. There is a lot of growth and transformation, particularly around the exterior of my life. Some small and cautious blossoming is emerging from within, perhaps not obvious just yet. The peaceful, inner calm - the place where I am most grounded and authentic - is bubbling out in places, but also restricted by barriers in other places.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>This sneaky mandala, probably taking 15 minutes of my time, has some important messages for me at this time. It is also a great reminder that it is not necessary to find a whole morning to complete a mandala. They can be created in those in between times, giving ourselves a little time out from thinking and planning for the next thing. This mandala was unexpected, unplanned and created very quickly, but it will be speaking with me for a while to come.</i></b></span>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-18930017145198060832019-02-02T07:44:00.000+08:002019-02-02T07:44:49.164+08:00Flying Low<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>It has been a while since my last post. The last few week's have been rather full with one thing and another; a wedding yesterday, dance lessons for my daughter, being 'apprentice' gardener for my husband and preparing for the first residential of Dayspring's Grad Dip in Spiritual Direction which commences tomorrow. In amongst all this, the thing that has stilled me is revisiting many of Mary Oliver's poems.</i></b></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVPN-GbSAcPMZB_PLztTJ20umo3rqD5-xAJMpnz3HFkOCxT8g9JLBRZkCYf-_zlZqRjd0W0GbQ_43vD19Cz2D34u86fpo43sWtHD1dh_AdQwlhJpyV50In55lbwccpwqvKRmmnVmAv/s1600/mary-oliver.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVPN-GbSAcPMZB_PLztTJ20umo3rqD5-xAJMpnz3HFkOCxT8g9JLBRZkCYf-_zlZqRjd0W0GbQ_43vD19Cz2D34u86fpo43sWtHD1dh_AdQwlhJpyV50In55lbwccpwqvKRmmnVmAv/s320/mary-oliver.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>Mary Oliver died on the 17th of January at the age of 84. Her poetry has travelled with me over the last 10 years. She has a way of describing her connection with nature, her own journey and relationship with the divine that is so simple, yet has such depth. Her poetry is full of wonder and awe at the surrounding world, but does not shy away from acknowledging the pain and suffering that is also part of life.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>A few of my favourites are 'Sleeping in the Forest', 'The Journey' and 'Why I wake early', but considering that today is a breathing day, a day in between two full days, I want to share the poem 'Today' with you.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i><u>Today</u></i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><u></u><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>Today I'm flying low and I'm</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>not saying a word.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>I'm letting all of the voodoos of ambition </i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>sleep.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>The world goes on as it must,</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>the bees in the garden rumbling a little,</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>And so forth.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>But I'm taking the day off.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>Quiet as a feather.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>I hardly move though really I'm travelling</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>a terrific distance.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>Stillness. One of the doors</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>into the temple.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>Mary Oliver</i></b></span>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-16567589322122699652019-01-17T11:20:00.000+08:002019-01-17T11:20:54.169+08:00Like it was yesterday<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>As a teenager, I recall watching a dramatic presentation at some church youth event that impacted me deeply. The basic plot went like this. Young person at home, doing things that young people do, music playing loudly. A knock at the door - Jesus has come to visit. The young person becomes flustered, quickly turns off the "inappropriate" music, and tells Jesus to take a seat. The young person only has a few minutes before their friends will arrive to go out. Jesus picks up a book that is left on the table, this is quickly whipped away (also "inappropriate"). Another knock at the door - the friends have arrived. Young person tells Jesus to stay there and he/she will spend time with him when they return. Jesus indicates that he will go with them. Young person says no. This carries on for a bit, until the young person gets very frustrated with Jesus' persistence and effectively nails him to the cross to keep him from coming along. Of course, the young person has a moment of realisation and there ends the emotional drama.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>I remember thinking this drama was highly effective in teaching what the Christian life is about and may have even re-enacted it myself at an Easter Camp or the like. Looking back now, I am quite horrified by what it taught me (and potentially many other young people). Jesus was to be a priority in my life. There should be no distractions. And when I fail at making this a reality, I may as well have nailed him to the cross myself. Guilt, guilt and more guilt!</i></b></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbn_bHZM9hFhMd_tvoo3mNWlOs1lbK6XoGD7Q2MM-ECoRc5gdXzz-3TjL2rD0hnkMlRxAj-gdDO7FPrUgaQeOLQs8ev6o8y-CrLSeHSv382UFY0mkBaizuXrPBhg12L8w2rsmkpKCT/s1600/carta-polaroid-hanger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="592" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbn_bHZM9hFhMd_tvoo3mNWlOs1lbK6XoGD7Q2MM-ECoRc5gdXzz-3TjL2rD0hnkMlRxAj-gdDO7FPrUgaQeOLQs8ev6o8y-CrLSeHSv382UFY0mkBaizuXrPBhg12L8w2rsmkpKCT/s320/carta-polaroid-hanger.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>A little over a week ago now, we had some friends come to visit us for a few days. We hadn't spent time with these friends since we lived in Tonga, seventeen years ago. We were friends on Facebook, but that was about where it ended. We now both had teenage children. A lot had happened in our lives since we had last met. But somehow, when they walked through our front door it was like our time in Tonga was yesterday. In the few days we had together, we laughed, reminisced, reconnected and had a fantastic time. There was no guilt about how little we had connected in the last seventeen years. There was no expectations that this should happen every year from now on.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>In my experience, this is the nature of our best relationships. Time has no effect. Yes, of course, it is preferable to see those we love often and be with them through the ups and downs of life, but when it is not possible the relationship somehow still thrives. If this is how it is in our best human relationships, I would hope it is the same with the mysterious divine. Yes, its great to have our disciplines of prayer, meditation, reading or whatever you prefer. However, when this falls by the wayside for whatever reason, I don't think our first reaction when God shows up unexpectedly should be guilt. Our encounter will probably be just like it was yesterday.</i></b></span>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-6243757172287794612019-01-01T10:45:00.000+08:002019-01-01T10:45:32.440+08:00Behold - A New Year!!<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>There is nothing especially magical about a new year. After all, time is a human construct that has been created to enable order in what often seems a chaotic world. Look what happens when the trains don't run on time, or we have to wait for an appointment that is running late. Our lives are so dictated by the clock in order that we might be in control of this life that is ever racing towards some unknown future destination. There is some hope. As we have cleverly based our concept of time on the cycles of days, months and years, we have not veered entirely from the more cyclical understanding of time that is given to us in the natural paths of our sun, moon and earth. I find this a helpful way of looking at the new year: not so much the next step in a linear path where I am expected to be closer to perfection than 2018, but a coming around the circle again, learning from what has been and experiencing it anew. How we understand time has a significant impact on how we choose to live our life.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>And so, as we come around again, looking at the path we have taken many times before from a different perspective, we ponder what we might do differently. Some make resolutions, often unrealistic and broken within a month. Others treat it as a fresh start, an opportunity to study harder, exercise more or be more disciplined. I gave up the idea of resolutions some years ago now. I can have very high expectations of myself and my lists were always far longer and complicated than was practical. </i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>A few years ago now, I began choosing a word for the year. This word was chosen in a very prayerful and reflective way. It has usually been a characteristic or a verb on which to focus for the year. The ones that come to mind immediately are 'integrity', 'courage' and 'cherish'. As I think on those words and the years that accompanied them, I recall moments and small transformations that crossed my path. I have been wondering for a few weeks now what the word for 2019 might be. A word has come back to me over and over like a persistent mosquito. I haven't sat comfortably with it for many reasons. It is an old word, not so used in every day language. It is not your usual verb or a personal characteristic - how will I make it applicable? It was seemingly a passive word, and I wanted something more challenging, more life disturbing. I even attempted to do a deal with this word. What if I have two words this year - this one (as it will not go away) and another that I will choose to make it more punchy!</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHwXVNYLfkTo0SyvkOagWOT-VHy3gGAf4vqvGjtev7i7AQ5bfe01KUEReEqaz5Tc_iKczZtke5IU9vaNAFV0aeSYltc_mwEgt2AgkL8zBTEKzpS5RJy75Or1ihhUvOdk732wimkRwG/s1600/hands-holding-monarch-butterfly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="282" data-original-width="425" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHwXVNYLfkTo0SyvkOagWOT-VHy3gGAf4vqvGjtev7i7AQ5bfe01KUEReEqaz5Tc_iKczZtke5IU9vaNAFV0aeSYltc_mwEgt2AgkL8zBTEKzpS5RJy75Or1ihhUvOdk732wimkRwG/s320/hands-holding-monarch-butterfly.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>However, I have resolved myself to trust this process and I am now happy to say that the word that has chosen me for 2019 is 'Behold'. The dictionary definition of behold is 'to see or observe (someone or something, especially of remarkable or impressive nature)'. My contemplative nature is quite content spending a year beholding the world around me; gazing upon the beauties of nature, watching those I love grow and blossom, searching out the moments and glimpses where the wonder of God is present. Seen this way, there is a sense in finding the sacred in all things and celebrating this each and every day. As Julian of Norwich said, "The fullness of joy is to behold God in everything".</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>But what happens if I start to use this word about myself? The initial reaction is to cringe in discomfort. I am not one to enjoy the spotlight. If the attention is turned upon me spontaneously in public, I would happily melt into my surroundings. Only use the word 'Behold' in front of my name after hours of rehearsals and all the mistakes have been ironed out. I love karaoke, but let me practice first!! So, what if I invited myself, others and God to say 'Behold, here is Cathie'. Suddenly, this word is a lot more challenging than I bargained for. To allow people to gaze upon my life and what I do before the dress rehearsals and the make up calls is something I encourage in others, but can I live it. I have always blamed my insecurities on the expectations of others, but this word is calling me to address the unrealistic expectations I put upon myself. </i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>I feel I am going to have a love-hate relationship with this word in 2019. I will need to hear my own words and see it as a coming around again, rather than some striving for unachievable perfection. Let's see how it goes. Behold - a new year!!</i></b></span>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-68970480553722122772018-12-27T07:30:00.000+08:002018-12-27T07:30:18.467+08:00Lectio divina<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>Lectio divina is a spiritual practice translated from the Latin as "divine reading". Originating from the third and fourth centuries, and used by monastic orders for centuries, lectio divina usually concentrates on a passage of Scripture. It is usually used in community, but can be used in individual reflection also. </i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>There are four movements in lectio divina. These are lectio (read or listen), </i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>meditatio (meditate/reflect), oratio (pray/respond) and contemplatio (rest/contemplate). These movements are experienced in many different ways today as people have adapted and kept the practice relevant. Essentially, the text is read aloud three times. Each reading takes those participating through the four movements at deeper levels each time. As I practice lectio divina, I ask myself during the first reading which word or phrase particularly grabs my attention. On the second reading, I ask myself what emotions are tied to this word or phrase. How does it speak into my life at this time? In the final reading, I ask myself what God might be inviting me to this day? What might God be saying to me through this text?</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA5Av4gwznntS1O2q5fq6jA3p9k-yDqnUB02-GtKy3OYZqln0PofBC00eSKgtx0HefczML8W3EJtGyqvEhAQ87xKdFGL-X0hzY25BJvHatJu_CiCkyLmF1hy3ShvPx4A3Wkkpu7JtX/s1600/Greece+group.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="1600" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA5Av4gwznntS1O2q5fq6jA3p9k-yDqnUB02-GtKy3OYZqln0PofBC00eSKgtx0HefczML8W3EJtGyqvEhAQ87xKdFGL-X0hzY25BJvHatJu_CiCkyLmF1hy3ShvPx4A3Wkkpu7JtX/s320/Greece+group.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Community Group at WCC Conference in 2004</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>My most memorable experience of using lectio divina in community was in Greece at the World Council of Churches Conference on Mission in 2004. Each morning we met in our community groups. People from all across the globe - different languages, different cultures, different theologies - were thrown together in small groups of about ten to engage in Bible study. You can imagine the problems that might have arisen. The process used, however, was lectio divina. No one commented on others' responses. The time was held in a prayerful way, that did not lend itself to theological debate. This practice enabled us to meet on a common ground that would have been near impossible using traditional Bible study methods.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>Since this time, I have used this practice in my own personal life and in small groups. The text has not always been Scripture. Often we have reflected on a poem together (I particularly enjoy Mary Oliver) or perhaps the words of a song. The same process is used to take the participant deeper into the text. The aspect of this practice that particularly appeals to me is that it treats a text as living. Each time the text is heard there is an opportunity for it to speak freshly into our lives again. Lectio divina is not simply reading, it is a prayerful, meditative reading that invites the divine to enter the story and intertwine with ours. In this way, no two readings can ever be the same.</i></b></span><br />
<br />Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-15977784503502837232018-12-23T19:00:00.000+08:002018-12-23T19:00:15.231+08:00Sharing Mandalas<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWeBHR-nzr4P1BEAdHhca83mSe66Ei2PLg14RzN5eOyapVXS8LhbZFCaE6h7qKCLcHBUgGrsPoKElGGxN7pOSv72lx0d_U8CZmKJy57WZeY16VyHUDaD_rKJC6PmEKxt9kobIsoS8/s1600/MC2203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: left; color: #0066cc; float: left; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="390" data-original-width="276" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWeBHR-nzr4P1BEAdHhca83mSe66Ei2PLg14RzN5eOyapVXS8LhbZFCaE6h7qKCLcHBUgGrsPoKElGGxN7pOSv72lx0d_U8CZmKJy57WZeY16VyHUDaD_rKJC6PmEKxt9kobIsoS8/s200/MC2203.jpg" width="141" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>As many of you will be aware, this year I released "A Mandala a Month Workbook". I am gifting myself another copy for Christmas to work through in 2019. In many ways, this book achieved what I was hoping - except one. The inspiration for this book came from a program I ran in 2013 where people met together each month and shared their experience. A small group also registered online. These people would send in a picture of their mandala each month with a few words and I would add them to our dedicated website. It was wonderful to share with others as we worked our way through the year with our mandalas.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>I was reminded of this recently, as I received an email from someone who had completed the first mandala in their book. It included a picture of the mandala they created and a reflection on the process and what it means to them. It was such a joy to receive. The importance of sharing the journey with someone was highlighted again. It is one thing to engage in spiritual practices for ourselves, but in sharing this with someone else I find the value is increased for ourselves and benefits the one with whom we share.</i></b></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpW2XmsYpj2yYbYlaeBCQOGLF8Wde88Fg1YnC9fswh-_Pppl_B76aCd13rNMs2rwLK7CBWBJ_gVB2sQHM4lBllMVQVKSPvxEc_kaGCWen4Et1nNRlU1KvKi4f5T2luX7alCNhDJxF/s1600/IMG_3771.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpW2XmsYpj2yYbYlaeBCQOGLF8Wde88Fg1YnC9fswh-_Pppl_B76aCd13rNMs2rwLK7CBWBJ_gVB2sQHM4lBllMVQVKSPvxEc_kaGCWen4Et1nNRlU1KvKi4f5T2luX7alCNhDJxF/s320/IMG_3771.JPG" width="240" /></a></i></b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><b></b><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>Please feel free to share your mandala experiences with me by emailing deepwaterdwelling@gmail.com or if there was enough interest, I could launch a private group page where these reflections and pictures could be shared. Let me know your thoughts. </i></b></span>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5571160136071927202.post-79358235253476428152018-12-21T15:53:00.000+08:002018-12-21T15:53:17.856+08:00A Different Christmas<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>This is my first Christmas in quite some time that I am not madly preparing worship services and wondering how on earth it will all happen before the big day. I love Christmas! And, to be honest, I have been anxiously anticipating what this first year without the ties of ministry might look like for me. With only a few days to go, I have been reflecting on this different advent space. What have I enjoyed? What have I missed? How am I approaching this Christmas? And how have these differences been reflected in my spiritual journey? It has still been a little chaotic, but the fact that I have time to ask these questions is a huge difference.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>Let me begin with what I haven't missed. No matter how hard I tried to be super organised while in ministry, Advent always snuck up on me. I would have these super creative ideas about how to journey through Advent or some craft activity to include in the Christmas Eve service, and would only end up cursing that pesky imagination for putting me under so much pressure at such a busy time of year. At the same time, I would preach each week about spending time, not rushing, being expectant and taking time to be still. Hypocrisy gone mad!!</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>This year, I don't have any services to prepare, no church to decorate, no last minute nativity costumes to whip up, no orders to print off, messages to write for local papers and the list goes on. Instead, I am helping my family get ready for Christmas. I have been out gardening each day helping my husband cram two weeks of mowing, weeding and raking into one so that he can take some time off over Christmas. I have been offering advice to my daughter who has decided to take on some baking. I am taking the learner driver out for some practice, being a taxi mum and attempting to keep on top of the washing and other chores.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>We will be heading to the city to spend some time with our extended families over Christmas and I get to choose where and when I would like to attend church. I must say it is a joy not to have the same pressures of the last few years. There have been a few aspects I have missed, however. The singing is one. There is nothing that bonds people together quite like singing, particularly Christmas songs. I am hoping to make up for this a little on Christmas morning.</i></b></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglVZNyIHWmi6FiGwK39QrFwJVoIGi5OeehnBZmcc_AWZYbGeLJT0AyDUAxuSvHEYe_-dIya-DOELxZSecE2BO42Onn7Iq2E75T4XpkzynI7FytWi0KSI7sGZVedkjQXwi81l4dDQqe/s1600/Advent-Wreath-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="594" data-original-width="1024" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglVZNyIHWmi6FiGwK39QrFwJVoIGi5OeehnBZmcc_AWZYbGeLJT0AyDUAxuSvHEYe_-dIya-DOELxZSecE2BO42Onn7Iq2E75T4XpkzynI7FytWi0KSI7sGZVedkjQXwi81l4dDQqe/s320/Advent-Wreath-5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>The other aspect I have missed is the ritual of Advent and the anticipation it brings. Most of the churches I have been involved in throughout my life have participated in an Advent candle liturgy in the four weeks leading to Christmas Day. This act, often including a song, some words and the visual of the candles being lit each week, has a way of preparing me and building the anticipation for Christmas and all the meaning it holds.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><i>All this being said, I am still super excited about Christmas. I will probably still be up at the crack of dawn as I have been for many years now (much to my parents and now my children's disgust). Christmas has always been a time of surprises. It began with God surprising the world in the incarnation and it continues in how we find the Christ anew in the people we encounter during this special time. I was concerned that without the busyness of ministry Christmas might somehow lose its shine. Instead, I have more time to be present and just let it happen, rather than being the one who makes it happen. Happy Christmas to you all!!</i></b></span>Cathie Lamberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15155026824454986248noreply@blogger.com0