Mary DeTurris Poust's Blog, page 20

‘Shining like the sun’: Merton goes to the prom

I was standing in the dressing room of Lord & Taylor recently, waiting outside a closed stall door as Olivia tried on dress after dress in the elusive search for the perfect prom attire. As I scrolled through Facebook while she ran through her costume changes, I was surreptitiously eavesdropping on a group of high school girls who had taken up residence in the other four dressing room stalls, sequins and taffeta spilling out each time one of them peeked out to ask for an opinion. They ran back and forth between stalls, giddy with excitement and generous with compliments as they gushed over each other’s choices and encouraged each other to be bold and wear something outside of their typical fashion comfort zones.

One girl, tall and thin with fair skin and strawberry blonde hair, came out in a stunning green-sequined dress and declared, “I love the dress but not the execution,” and she ran back to her stall to try again. Truth be told, she looked gorgeous, but as is so often the case, what we see in the mirror when we look at ourselves is often not what other people see when they catch the exact same glimpse of us. A few minutes later, another girl opened her door and the other three oohed and aahed and tried to convince her that this was “the one.” They begged her to come out and take a look in the three-way mirror at the end of the hall, but she was shy and backed into the stall head down, smiling nervously, mumbling something about looking “lumpy.” Meanwhile, I was doing the same dance with Olivia. Every single dress she tried on could have been a keeper, but as she harshly judged her appearance and pointed out flaws I couldn’t find, I could hear echoes of my own self-criticism.

In that moment, leaning against the wall of the dressing room surrounded by these teenage girls formed by a culture soaked in altered and unrealistic images of beauty, I experienced my own version of Thomas Merton’s famous epiphany on a crowded Kentucky street corner on March 18, 1959.

“In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers…There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun,” Merton wrote in “Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander.”

“If only they could all see themselves as they really are. If only we could see each other that way all of the time.”

I have often joked that rather than feel an overwhelming Merton-esque type of love for the people surrounding me on a street corner, I am more likely to feel an overwhelming sense of annoyance. So, imagine my surprise when there, in Crossgates Mall on a cold February night, I had my Merton moment.

Although I never interfered in the conversation or offered any opinion, I was quietly but unavoidably smack dab in the middle of the action. As the girls went about their fashion show commentary, I could not help but smile, and I felt an overwhelming sense of love and protection as I looked at these beautiful young women who were being so hard on themselves and so critical of their looks when, in reality, they were all shining like the sun.

I think we all start out that way—shining like the sun—but the world’s demands and life’s daily struggles and our own misguided attempts to live up to someone else’s ideal cast a shadow over us and eclipse our light. Every once in a while, if we’re lucky, we find ourselves standing in a crowd, realizing we belong to each other; we are one.

This column originally appeared in the March 2, 2017, issue of Catholic New York.

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One month of meditation. Does it make a difference?

One month ago today, I decided to commit — really commit this time! — to a daily meditation practice. I’ve been down this road before. Usually I don’t make it more than three or four days before the snooze button wins out over the sounds of silence, but this time something was different. I think it was the Cravings journey I’d been on with my tribe. Although the food thing remained a struggle for me throughout that journey, the principles and practices clearly benefited other parts of my life. Something was seeping into the cracks of my soul and pushing me forward.

So every day, usually at 6 a.m. (although once or twice in the evening instead due to a crazy schedule), I get up, pad downstairs, set up my pillows on the floor or on a chair and settle into the silence, breathing deeply a few times to start, rolling my shoulders, stretching my neck and then…stillness. I set my Apple watch to 15 minutes, but I don’t really need a timer at this point. I usually know intuitively just before the little vibration goes off that I’m reaching the end of my session.

Some days I’m in the meditation groove. The stillness seems to envelope me and monkey mind stops it’s chattering. Time flies, and suddenly I’m done. Other days, twinges and itches make me want to readjust my position, thoughts about work or chores or meetings race around my head for at least a minute or so before I even realize what’s happening and acknowledge the thoughts and let them float away. Days like today I can feel the physical stillness like a heavy blanket comforting me even as my mind jumps up and down looking for attention. And I return again and again to breathing and the words that ground me throughout my meditation.

Is it making a difference in my life? Although there is no outward sign at this point to anyone (even me), I would have to say yes, because something is shifting inside. First of all, I just don’t want to miss my quiet prayer/meditation time. I find myself looking forward to it, resisting the urge to sleep in or say I’m too busy to squeeze in 15 minutes. Because, really, I’m never so busy I can’t fit in 15 minutes. If I closed up Facebook, I’d have way more than 15 minutes to work with every day. I can feel something happening not on a level that necessarily changes outward behavior in a dramatic way (at least not yet), but rather changes internal awareness. I still race around from meeting to meeting and deadline to deadline, sometimes so mindlessly I forget to eat my lunch or leave my full coffee cup in the microwave and wonder where it went, but through it all I’m becoming more of a silent observer, watching my own frenetic pace, pulling back when I can or smiling at the same habitual patterns that can tie me up in knots almost daily. Now there is less frustration and more compassion for myself, and I find myself thinking 15 minutes is not long enough. But I’m not worrying about adding on more just yet, about making “progress” or ratcheting things up, which, in itself, is a benchmark for me.

The interesting thing is that the meditation has now led me back to the food-faith journey and, finally, I am on track and making improvements where I was stuck for so many months. So I’ve come full circle. Yes, it’s making a difference, one breath at a time.

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Take inventory, simplify, let go…

I read this reflection this morning and knew I needed to share it here. From Peace in Our Hearts, Peace in the World: Meditations of Hope and Healing:

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The last chapter is not the end, just the opposite

So this week we delve into our final chapter of Cravings, but that doesn’t mean we’re done with this topic or this journey. In fact, this is just the beginning. At least I hope it is. By this point, I hope you’ve made some peace with food and perhaps have learned to weave in some quiet time to eat mindfully, journal, pray, or just sit in silence now and then. Whatever you’ve started during this eight-week process, keep it up. Continue journaling, if that worked for you. Stay in touch with our community here or build community where you are so you don’t have to go it alone. But, more than anything else, take at least a few minutes every day to be with God. Even if the food habits slip or the mindfulness goes out the window now and then, just keep coming back to the God, to the beginning, and start again. There is no failing here. There is no wrong way to do this. We find lessons everywhere, even in the “mistakes,” even when we beat ourselves up because we didn’t measure up to our own expectations. It all takes us to the next place on the path.

From Chapter 8:

“When we live life in balance — bringing prayer, moderation, and mindfulness into our cooking, our eating, and other aspects of our busy lives — we discover what the monastics and other holy men and women have long known: Whether we are feasting or fasting or somewhere in between, food should have a sacred role in our lives. It can be something we sacrifice, something we savor, something we share, and through it all we can remain fulfilled because we are grounded in God, the only One who can satisfy our hungry hearts.”

Feasting and fasting… The start of Lent is just one week away. How can we take what we’ve learned on this Cravings journey and bring it into the forty days of Lent? Can we pick one aspect of this journey and work at it more intensely during the Lenten season? Maybe there’s something that has nothing to do with food that we now realize gets in the way of our happiness. Begin there. Our sacrifices during Lent don’t have to be food fasts. We can give up gossip or social media, too much TV or too much unnecessary work. Or maybe it’s food, plain and simple. You don’t necessarily have to cut out a certain food; you can add in more mindfulness or perhaps cook more simply. But whatever we choose, we have to weave prayer through it and give it a real spiritual intention. Remember, fasting without prayer is just a diet. The principles we’ve practiced these past few weeks were good preparation for what’s to come.

I plan to keep coming back here throughout Lent to check in, so if these blogs posts have helped in any way, please come back and touch base during Lent. I will admit that I worry that maybe I’ve let the tribe down. Maybe I wasn’t present enough. If so, I apologize. If there’s anything I did not provide during this journey in terms of support or feedback, please comment here or email me privately so we can talk about it further. I’m toying with the idea of a summer retreat weekend in the lower Adirondack Mountains based on our Cravings Tribe. I’ll keep you posted if that looks like it’s going to become a possibility.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for being part of our Cravings Tribe. I hope it helped in some small way. See you back here as we get ready for the next leg of the journey: Lent.

Our musical inspiration for the week: Touch the Sky by Hillsong UNITED:

“My heart beating, my soul breathing

I found my life when I laid it down

Upward falling, spirit soaring

I touch the sky when my knees hit the ground”

 

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Multitasking, mindfulness, and meditation

Hello, my lovelies! How is week seven going for everyone? I have to admit that this is a favorite chapter and topic for me: mindfulness. Ahhhh…just saying the word makes my shoulders relax and my breathing expand. I love it because I know it works, BUT, that doesn’t mean I always make the time and space for it. I am the queen of multitasking, something I used to think was a good thing. Not so. Multitasking distracts us and makes us feel like we’re doing so much but, really, we are usually half doing a couple of things. I can’t listen to my daughter and scroll through Facebook. I might think I can do that, but she’s going to notice I’m not really there, even if I don’t. I can’t eat dinner and answer emails. Well, I can, but chances are I’ll finish the meal without ever really tasting it.

Multitasking is one of the biggest enemies of inner peace. It robs us of our balance and tricks us into thinking it’s the way to get more done or be more productive and prove we’re working hard enough to whomever it is we think we need to prove something — bosses, coworkers, friends, partner, parents, children, maybe even complete strangers. If we let our worth hang on other people’s opinions, we’re going to make ourselves crazy trying to be everything to everyone. So the challenge is to stop worrying about other people’s opinions and start paying attention to the still, small voice trying to be heard in the silence of your heart. To do that, you have to be mindful and prayerful and quiet. That’s the starting point. And the end point. And every point in between. Mindfulness always, or as often as possible. Just keep coming back to where you are right now without worrying about what’s coming next. It’s not easy to do, especially when many of us have jobs and home lives that keep us in full-time stress mode. Just keep starting over. Eventually it will become comfortable, maybe even “normal.”

If you can’t figure out how to make this mindfulness thing work in daily life, start small. With a cup of tea or a piece of chocolate or a quiet lunch eaten alone without distractions. We’re seven weeks in, so I know you know the drill, but in case you want a reminder, I’ll re-post the mealtime meditation bookmarks. Click HERE for the set of two bookmarks. And, if you missed this the first time around, here’s one of my previous blog posts on the topic: Mindfulness: It’s not just for Buddhists.

Keep in mind that mindfulness isn’t limited to mealtime, to be sure. Try it out when you’re driving to work, when you’re waiting in the car line outside school, when you’re on hold with customer service. Breathe, be present in that moment, and just do that one thing you need to do, not the 12 things everyone else wants you do to. Breathe. Exhale…

Here’s some musical inspiration to go with our theme of the week: “Exhale” by Plumb.

Oh God We breathe in your grace

We breathe in your grace

And exhale

Oh God we do not exist for us

But to share Your grace and love

And exhale

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Meeting God in the Middle

Our weekly blog post will be up tomorrow. Sorry for the delay. Can you believe we’re already moving onto Chapter 7? The weeks are flying by. In the meantime, if you missed the latest radio show discussion on our tribe and this Cravings topic, you can listen in at the link below. It’s just a short 10-minute segment, so not a big time commitment. Thank you to the folks at Mater Dei Radio out of Portland, Oregon, for having me on the show.

Click HERE to listen.

 

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The upside of winters in upstate

I was going through some old Life Lines columns and happened to come across this one from January 2002. This snowy Sunday seemed like the perfect time to pull it out of the archives and reprint it here:

Ever since we moved back to New York after almost six years in Texas, we’ve heard the same thing over and over again from friends, relatives, co-workers, and absolute strangers: Are you ready for the loooooong winter? As if we live in Nome, Alaska.

We smile and remind everyone that – in addition to the fact that we’ve already lived through a loooooong winter in upstate New York since arriving here in early January last year – we were born and raised not all that far from here. Our kids may not have seen snow before landing at Newark International Airport, but I have many fond memories of snow days and sleigh riding, cold toes and hot cocoa. Yes, we’re ready for the loooooong winter because it gives us a chance to sloooooow down.

With the holidays behind us and months of cold weather ahead, there is nothing to do but put on an extra sweater and switch into slow gear. (OK, there is the fairly regular need to shovel the driveway, but we have to get exercise somewhere, right?) Winter is a time to sit by the fire and read a chapter book with Noah, to play Chutes and Ladders for the gazillionth time and maybe not even mind so much, to sip a cup of tea in the middle of a Saturday afternoon because it’s too cold to take the kids to the park. Am I ready for this? I can’t wait for it.

As someone who has spent her fair share of years away from the ebb and flow of the seasons, I can assure you that it is a wonderful thing, too wonderful to miss, really. It’s easy to take the beauty of winter for granted until you’ve lived in a place where it’s summer almost year-round.

I was reminded of that one unseasonably warm afternoon early last month when I decided to take the kids on a hike. I almost didn’t suggest it because I knew the trees would be bare, the trails would be lifeless, and the sounds of nature would be muted. As we set out on Beaver Trail, with Olivia in the backpack and Noah leading the way, I was struck by the awesome splendor of the woods around us.

The stark, rigid lines of winter brought everything into focus. We could see things we had never seen before – beyond waterfalls, behind fallen trees, past fields and pine groves. We even surprised a deer. Actually, he surprised us before bounding up a hill.

I felt rejuvenated by the knowledge that winter was coming and with it some much-needed time to refocus our attention on what’s important to our family. Maybe, if we’re lucky, our own vision will become winter-sharp and we’ll see beyond the boundaries we usually set for ourselves.

I wanted to shake off the record-breaking warmth of that day and feel the cold, crisp air of winter catch in my lungs. I wanted a reason to do nothing more than gather the kids in the family room with a big bowl of popcorn, our costume box and a pile of books.

Sure, snow can be a hassle. We have to shovel it. We have to drive in it. We have to get on with the details of our lives and sometimes it slows us down. But that can be a good thing. That’s why God invented toboggans and miniature marshmallows.

Are we ready for the loooooong winter? Let’s just say that for the first time in 30 years I own a pair of snow pants.

This column originally appeared in Catholic New York in January, 2002.

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Life in My 50s: wisdom’s slow burn

Every once in a while, something happens that gives me pause and makes me take note of the ways I am aging. I attempt to open a bottle of apple juice and find myself struggling to budge the screw cap that used to loosen without effort. I bend down to put away dishes and a shooting pain in my knee makes me straighten up, except that it’s not as easy as it used to be. Whenever one of these age jolts occurs, I think of my grandmother, who lived independently until she was closing in on 101. I wonder what it was like for her to notice the subtle changes in her abilities and strength as the years passed, and I wonder if I’ll be able to manage those same kinds of changes with anything close to the grace and chutzpah that marked her century of life.

If by some chance I’m as blessed and as lucky as my grandmother, I still have another 46 years to go on top of my current 54. That’s somewhat sobering, especially given the fact that I already find myself challenged by the shifts that make life’s landscape more difficult to navigate these days.

When I was younger, if I didn’t like something—be it a city or a job—I’d move on. Often I took leaps that scared me but one way or another got me to the next place I needed to go. When you get to midlife, however, it becomes clear—sometimes painfully so—that the braver thing to do in times of struggle or discomfort is not to cut and run but to stay put.

I had figured that by age 54 I’d be a wise, old woman, traveling along the familiar groove I’d worn into the carpet of my life through decades of work and experience. Now, I find myself with a new groove to navigate, one I can’t run from or ignore. It’s making me learn how to sit with difficulties, fears and obstacles. From this new vantage point, I am starting to see the wisdom and power in the pause, in looking at every situation as an observer, searching for the deeper takeaway hidden beneath what initially appears to be nothing more than pain or frustration.

History does have a tendency to repeat itself when we don’t learn our lessons the first time around. I can certainly see that cliché in action in my own life. Perhaps that’s really the Spirit at work, propelling us forward, knowing we can’t really make progress—spiritual or otherwise—until we come to terms with the part we play in making own lives more difficult. And maybe that’s finally the wisdom talking.

From the vantage point of youth, I think I once imagined that wisdom would descend on me like the Spirit descending upon the disciples in Scripture, that at some point I would know in some clear and defining way that I was now wise enough to manage the rest of my own journey effectively and perhaps even positively influence the journeys of others. As it turns out, wisdom is not a lightning bolt revelation but a slow burn fed by trust and love and acceptance. It does not culminate in knowing how to effectively manage the journey but in letting go of the need to manage it at all, in sitting still when the urge is to escape, in finding opportunities for growth in the places that scare us.

During the sacrament of confirmation, we pray to receive the gifts of the Holy Spirit, but that doesn’t happen all at once, like a magic trick. It often takes the rest of our lives to unpack those gifts. That happens only when we are willing to be forged by the fire of difficulty and discomfort into new creations—to pause, to pray and to stay put until the lesson is complete.

This column originally appeared in the Feb. 2, 2017, issue of Catholic New York. 

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This balancing act called life

What does a balanced life look like to you? When I hear the word “balance,” I feel the word “peace.” In my mind’s eye, the two are inextricably linked. And on some deep interior level, I know that if I can just find a way to bring some balance into my life, peace is sure to follow. But balance is hard to come by in our all-or-nothing world, and so we have to strive to be counter cultural, to look for ways to even out the highs and lows we typically traverse, to learn to be present wherever we are, even when where we are isn’t so hot, and to find beauty there.

As we delve into chapter 6, it’s time to take a closer look at ways to bring more balance to our lives. What makes you feel UNbalanced? Is it an overbooked schedule? A kitchen counter piled with clutter? The laundry overflowing the hamper? A work project looming in front of you? Where can you begin to make a dent and tip the scales back in your favor? I think that starts with recognizing that our lives will always seesaw back and forth in major and minor ways. The balance will be found somewhere in the middle of it. Balance doesn’t mean evening out every problem and glitch, but creating an interior space that allows us to stay centered even when things are tilting to one side. Prayer — as always — is key.

For the past week, I’ve been far more committed to a meditation schedule, missing only one morning in about eight days, and, boy, can I feel the difference. The rough edges of my psyche seem a little smoother. The things that grate and gnaw have lost some of their sting. Life seems to be on more of an even kilter. Balance. All of the outward situations are the same — same job, same stresses, same family commitments, same everything. Only one thing has changed: my willingness to sit down in silence for 15 minutes at the start of every day and listen for the Spirit. That one thing is making all the difference. Can I stick with it? Sure. Will I stick with it? It’s anybody’s guess. We don’t always do what’s good for us. But I crave balance, and I can see how the silence creates balance which creates peace, or at least peace of mind.

Where are you finding balance these days? What’s working for you? What’s not working at all? Share in the comment section and let us know how you’re doing.

This week, when you’re looking for a practical way to help make the Cravings changes more concrete, find just one thing you can do to foster balance. It could be silent prayer, or it could be a good old-fashioned closet cleaning session. Trust me, clearing out the garbage in your closet or drawers or desk will go a long way toward clearing out the garbage you hold inside. Open things up, clear a space — literally and figuratively — and watch how things begin to balance out.

Here’s something to get you started: today’s reflection from one of my favorite little books of daily readings, Peace in Our Hearts, Peace in the World.

 

 

 

 

 

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Talking Cravings, catechism, and all things Catholic

Today’s interview with Todd Sylvester of the Live Hour on Archangel Radio out of Alabama was one of those unexpected and happy surprises, a really great conversation that not only gave me a chance to talk about Cravings (and some of my other books) but also sparked some serious introspection and reflection. We talked about my faith journey, my work as a Catholic journalist and author, about the catechism, and, of course, food. It was a really fun 40 minutes and it went by so fast. I loved the fact that Todd not only read Cravings but focused on our parts of my own book that I’d forgotten about.

If you have some time and want to listen, click HERE. It will take you to the Archangel Radio webpage with the podcast. Just push play.

 

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