More than our limitations
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Dance is the only art of which we ourselves are the stuff of which it is made. Ted Shawn, Time Magazine, July 1955
Dancing faces you towards Heaven, whichever direction you turn.
Terri Guillemets
(When I am not grounded) I believe that whatever I seek in miracles, the sacred, intervention of the divine is not in a place where I am now--in a place other than this moment. They have this in common: we don't look at the world around us as places where God lives. Abraham Heschel
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At the turn of the century, Ted Shawn, a young seminarian called to the ministry, was stricken with polio. Somewhere deep inside, he heard another, although very unlikely voice, calling him to dance.
So. That's what Ted Shawn did. With great difficulty he quit divinity school and began to dance, and slowly and miraculously, he not only regained the use of his legs, but went on to become one the fathers of modern dance. (With his wife Ruth St. Denis, Shawn co-founded the Denishawn School in 1915, and later became famous for his company of male dancers performing works that embodied a vigorous, masculine style. In 1933 he founded the Jacob's Pillow Dance Festival in Becket, Mass., as a summer residence and theatre for his dancers.)
In his book, The Exquisite Risk, Mark Nepo points out the compelling power of Shawn's story:
Studying God did not heal him.
Embodying God did.
"The fact of Ted Shawn's miracle shows us that Dance, in all its forms, is Theology live. This leads us all to the inescapable act of living out what is kept in."
The earth braces itself for the feet of a lover of God about to dance. Hafiz
Ted Shawn's story is not about the absence of loss of theology or belief. It is about the movement of being; from our head to our heart. It is about living from the inside out. Embodying is the accurate verb here. Because he lived from the inside out, Ted Shawn pursued his passion. And his passion allowed him to live fully human and fully alive.
To live "embodied" will mean turning the way we process (or see) reality on its head. Embodied, our life is a journey or a movement toward continual healing (or wholeness). Here's the way it translates to me: we no longer see any obstacle--or complication or hurdle--as a derailment. You know, something to get past or over... before life "really" begins. Maybe, to be whole--or to live embodied--is to love whatever "gets in the way." (Maybe even calling us to dance...)
My Christian faith is predicated on the incarnation; which is the embodiment of God. The fully "humanness" of God. And yet, my upbringing placed a premium on being "saved." And in many cases it was about being saved "from my humanness." It was all about "arrival," which turned out to be code for knowing whether I would be "in" or "out" of heaven. Even though I was taught the magic words, a sense of fear pervaded my days. Why? Because I was not quite sure whether I believed or said or practiced the correct creed or prayer. My understanding all hinged upon a cerebral connection to God or salvation. This much was very clear: any connection to my humanity or passion (that I knew to be true, deep in my soul) was to be mistrusted and kept buried.
Here's what I missed: "salvation" is the journey to become whole.
This doesn't come easily to me. Because I do allow obstacles to irritate me. To derail me. I am assuredly a candidate for some kind of remedial course on Zen. (Or some kind of course on inner-peace-for-ADHD-multi-tasking neurotics?)
Case in point. Not long ago I was on retreat. Decided to open my email. Saw 90 unread. I growled and whined. My friend says to me, "Why do you let it bother you? Just think of it as moving energy." "Why don't you move your own email!" I said... compassionately.
Okay, she has a point. As long as I see any obstacle as something to be overcome, I am embattled. I am stuck. I am at odds with myself. All of my energy goes into the eradication of the setback. And I cannot hear the "voice of embodiment," which is the voice of grace.
In the movie the Kingdom of Heaven, about the battle for Jerusalem in the Middle Ages, Balian of Ibelin began knighting ordinary men, making them understand that inside of them was a knight, something far greater than the limitations of their birth or fears or status.
The Bishop, Patriarch of Jerusalem (almost crying): Who do you think you are? Will you alter the world? Does making a man a knight make him a better fighter?"
Balian of Ibelin: Yes.
"Look up at me," Balian would say to each of these ordinary men, as he knighted them, "See in my eyes something more and far greater than you see and know in your limitations."
I wonder...
In what ways can we live out what has been "kept in?"
In what ways do we embody our passion?
In what ways can we live today, fully human, fully alive?
When Native American medicine men talk to the sick, they usually ask three questions:
When was the last time you sang?
When was the last time you danced?
When was the last time you told your story?
That's a good place to begin.
I am in the Midwest. The days are warm and the evenings brisk. And the leaves are turning. It is quite the spectacle, changing daily. The forest palate goldenrod yellow to burnt sienna to a blood red. I spent the weekend in Huntington, Indiana with a retreat group, talking about Sanctuary, and how we honor those places we go to find ourselves again and again. Today I steer the rental car north, driving toward Michigan's Upper Peninsula to spend time with my Father. We'll fish, swap stories and find ways to savor these early days of autumn.
The best beauty product is to have a life. A real life. With challenges, disappointments, stress, and laughter. The Art of Imperfection
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Poems and Prayers
Count the roses, red and fluttering.
Count the roses, wrinkled and salt.
Each with its yellow lint at the center.
Each with its honey pooled and ready.
Do you have a question that can't be answered?
Do the stars frighten you by their heaviness
and their endless number?
Does it bother you, that mercy is so difficult to
understand?
For some souls it's easy; they lie down on the sand
and are soon asleep.
For others, the mind shivers in its glacial palace,
and won't come.
Yes, the mind takes a long time, is otherwise occupied
than by happiness, and deep breathing.
Now, in the distance, some bird is singing.
And now I have gathered six or seven deep red,
half-opened cups of petals between my hands,
and now I have put my face against them
and now I am moving my face back and forth, slowly
against them.
The body is not much more than two feet and a tongue.
Come to me, says the blue sky, and say the word.
And finally even the mind comes running, like a wild thing,
and lies down in the sand.
Eternity is not later, or in any unfindable place.
Roses, roses, roses, roses.
Mary Oliver God, Let me breathe today.
Breathe in the soft air of autumn.
Breathe in the wonder of your hand print
In the color of maple leaves
And the sound of the stream over moss covered rocks.
Let me breathe out worry.
Breathe out the urgency of today's
or tomorrow's list.
In this space, let me hear my heart,
And let my breathing by my prayer
of gratitude. Amen.
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Be Inspired
Living without Fear: The truth about intimacy --Terry Hershey (Anaheim Convention Center) --2013 Religious Education Congress.
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Notes from Terry
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