Everyone has a sanctuary. If only in their mind.

That space (or place) where we feel grounded, or at home in our own skin. Where there is nothing to prove and no one to impress.

For me it is my garden. No surprise there. Spent a good while in it today (necessary after a week on the road), deadheading the spent blooms from the roses Constance Spry and Felicite Parmentier, wrestling with salmonberry to clear an overgrown area near the streambed, and stopping now and again to marvel--at the new clematis (regal purple) scrambling up through the Japanese Snowbell tree, and at the Grosbeaks at the feeder, the female sporting a russet cashmere jacket. I can tell you those weeks when I don't get my recommended dose of garden time. And I can tell when I do; it's a restorative mainlined straight to the heart.

For Molly Barker it is running.

At age 15, Molly started running with her mom.

As part of her recovery from alcoholism, Molly's 50-year-old mom drew strength from running. And it was apparent to Molly when her mother returned from those runs awake and alive.

So when she ran, Molly discovered that sanctuary too, knowing simply that she "loved the process of running."

But on our journey in real life, there's always a hitch that isn't in the plans. Go figure. And whatever it is (whether we choose it or it chooses us), it does its best to distract us, or derail us, from our self.

For Molly, it came when she encountered "the girl box."

She describes this as a space where "only girls who were a certain size with a certain beauty were popular; where girls who wanted to fit in had to mold their bodies and their personalities to fit the requirements of the box." Fatefully, the same year Molly found strength in running, she also took her first drink, became a "flirty party girl," caring too much about all the things she shouldn't. As time went on, when she drank Molly found it easier to fit into "the girl box."

Box.

Label.

Script.

I wonder sometimes, do they hand these out at birth? Or do we shop for them and pick the one to fit our psyche? Either way, they're not easy to shake are they?

But here's the deal: Whatever the box, or label, or script; it is never the whole truth. Never. Never. Never.  

Even so, that label will always encourage or persuade us to play small. Which is another way of saying... We begin to hide our own beauty.

As she got older, Molly continued running, and drinking. On the surface, Molly had it all together--college degrees in chemistry and social work. She taught high school, coached track and worked as a college counselor. She also became a competitive athlete; a four-time Hawaii Ironman triathlete.

And yet; under the surface, Molly was still stuck, in "the girl box."

One day, under the threat of a thunderstorm, Molly went for a run and experienced an awakening like no other. She felt present and in control. The power she channeled when running took over. For whatever reason, in an epiphany Molly realized that her true human potential had been buried. It was at that moment, she began the journey to shed the influences that had trapped her in "the girl box." On that run, the concept for Girls on the Run--a program for young girls ages 8 to 12--took root.

Our circumstances do shape us, tis' true. And our mind creates (or latches on to) a script or narrative or box. We play it out because "that is who we are" and labels are powerful. In other words, we see what we want or need to see...

So. Girls on the Run encourages girls to run. And it encourages the girls to locate or see an identity--value, worth, beauty--beyond the confines of the box or label.

At the end of each rally day with the girls, many seek Molly out--to say thank you, to get a hug, to ask for a picture. And with each young girl, Molly will crouch, look them in the eye and say, "Give me one word to capture this day for you."

I like that.

Yes, many young girls will say "fun" or "cool" or "amazing"... but the point is still reinforced.

It does us well to remember that there is nothing more substantial to place against the cruelty of the world than language.

Why? Because there is power in language. And when Molly asks them to find a word for that new sense of freedom, they are able to mark this moment and give it a voice.

In last week's Sabbath Moment--Be Gentle with Yourself--I wrote about the freedom that comes with boundaries. Reading Molly's story I see the power of a word; and that word becomes a boundary, within which there can be profusion and abundance. And grace. And mercy.   

What would happen if we empowered these young girls to know that they have the ability to choose?

What would happen if we empowered these young girls to know that they get to say how the story ends?

What would happen if we empowered these young women to use their words and not the words proscribed for them?

In the movie, The Mission, Rodrigo Mendoza (Robert De Niro) loses his lover to his brother, and then kills his brother in a pique of rage. His world is on tilt.  He is visited in his cell by Father Gabriel (Jeremy Irons), who is told, "He won't see anybody. I think he wants to die."
In the cell Mendoza tells Fr. Gabriel, "You don't know what I am."
Fr. Gabriel, "Yes. You are a mercenary. You are a slave trader. And you killed your bother. I know. But you loved him, although you chose a strange way to show it."
Mendoza, "For me there is no redemption."  

Some of us have felt that way. Like there is no reason to go on. It is made all the more thorny if we see our imperfection (box, label or script) as an enemy (predicament or obstacle) to be overcome.
We do not see Grace.

We do not see Love.
We see only our shortcomings, and not our potential.
And we live with fear. Or regret. 

We'd prefer it if there were a trick to all of this--living in our own skin.

Our supermarket is selling greenhouse grown dahlias in full showy bloom. Which puts me on edge because summer has only begun here, and now we're already tempted to buy a plant which signals summer's end. What a curious species we are... seeking gratification for a life or time yet to come. I passed on the dahlias.

Just came in from my garden. I needed to deadhead a little more, while there's still dusk light, and walk the vegetable garden to see how the tomatoes are growing.

Okay Molly Barker, my word today is enchantment.    

Notes: (1) A part of Molly's story is adapted from www.ladieswholaunch.com