Deep Silence and the Conversation with Our Hearts

Rebecca R

It is possible to speak with our heart directly. Most ancient cultures know this. We can actually converse with our hearts as if it were a good friend. In modern life we have become so busy with daily affairs and thoughts that we have lost this essential art of taking time to converse with our heart.  —Jack Kornfield, A Path with Heart: A Guide Through the Perils and Promises of Spiritual Life

As I mentioned in my Sit with It post, I have been out of sorts. Not quite myself. I woke up this morning able to name some of my feelings–disoriented and flustered, like I can’t quite find my footing. These feelings remind me of the time [a little more than a decade ago] when I went silent for about three months. I still spoke with others, but I did not engage in lengthy conversation, did not engage in discussions about points-of-view on issues. I didn’t even listen to sermons. I closed my ears to all voices but God’s. I am heading in that direction again. 

Lately, I have spent too much time and energy striving, struggling, wrestling inwardly [with myself] and outwardly with other people and their struggles, strivings, and energy. There’s so much brain clutter that the only way through it is through silence. Not a literal silence, but a spiritual one—a way of tuning out the unnecessary and tuning in to what is needful and authentic. 

There is deep rest in that type of silence, in withdrawing for a dedicated time from the madness of the world and giving full attention to the stirrings and musings of our hearts. 

I like the way Jack Kornfield put it. We need this silence to “converse with our own hearts as if it were a good friend.”


About the Image: The abstract photo above features the work of my pen friend, Rebecca R, also known as Beckra. The artwork sits inside one of my planners–as a reminder to write to Rebecca. The reminder has failed. I owe you many letters, Rebecca. [Insert Face Palm Emoji]

Dark | Sit with It

Sunflower from Arizona

I am sharing a piece I wrote just a few moments ago during a writing circle session. I chose the prompt “I wish” for the group, hoping that a fanciful tale of unicorn dreams and butterfly wishes would fall from my pen. Instead, after being unable to write about my feelings for weeks, this spilled out:

I wish I could take this darkness that has settled into my being over the last few weeks and kick it straight into oblivion, into the abyss from which it sprung. It has robbed me of sleep. It has taken my calm. It has driven me to consuming way too much chocolate and to long-overcome habits of rolling my eyes and sucking my teeth and impatience with the world. It has made me so unlike me. I wish I could pull myself up to dance on clouds and sing on rooftops and never, ever apologize for being too joyful. I wish God would release me from the grips of darkness. I wish He hadn’t invited me to let it steep. To let it all rise to the surface—the grief and vile feelings, the suppressed hurt and trauma that I have stuffed too far down because I don’t have the energy or capacity to deal. I wish I didn’t have to confront the darkness. I wish I didn’t have to do the hard work of grappling with it and wrestling with it. We know Light wins. Light always wins, so why not skip the drama and just win already? Ugh! I wish I didn’t have to sit with the darkness, especially when just a flicker of His light is enough.


About the Image: My sunflower-loving, Wildflowers: Blooming in Community friend, Jamise L, sent the beautiful photo-card to me shortly after my father’s passing. Having lost her own father five years ago, she is well-acquainted with the journey. Her note offered comfort, love, and a shoulder to lean on. Thanks for the sunshine, Jamise!

Follow My Musings!

Journals2

Please forgive my unplanned three-week absence. My brain held me hostage and wouldn’t let me write posts. That’s a post for another time (maybe); for now, I am dropping in to let you know, I did a thing! 😀

I created an Instagram page just for the “Musings from My Younger Self.” I launched it earlier this month (on my birthday) and have been having a “fabulous” time going through the cringe-worthy writings of my youth. The plan is to post to Instagram as I am curating a collection or two or three!

I am slowly desensitizing myself to the “cringe-factor,” but I am finding that the hardest thing to do is not edit my younger self, to simply let her be. She was insightful, funny, and disciplined in her writing practice–I can learn a lot from younger me! 

I’ll be sure to share with you what I’m calling a few of my “country heartbreak poems” later this month. For now, please check out one of the poems of my youth in The Gumbo Collective, the online literary arts journal of Oakwood University: Purple Rose.

And if you’re on Instagram, be sure to follow my musings. Feel free to comment on the writings of the decades younger Chandra Lynn, even if you find them cringey too: Musings From My Younger Self.

We Were Designed for…

Many of us carry a world on our shoulders. We convinced ourselves that we must strive alone, that to ask for help in bearing the day-to-day struggles and everyday slights is a sign of weakness. In the mad, mad, madness of life, we forget that we are human, that we were not designed to shoulder so much weight. We were designed for community, for gathering, for singing, dancing, praying, and lifting together.

I Call Her “Too Much”

Too Much

When I crafted the autumn flower above for Sheila D’s 30-Day Creative Gathering (Day 24), I sent it to a friend and told her this one might be a little “too much,” so I decided not to use it. Unwilling to leave her in the heap of “never-to-be-seen-again” photo projects, I worked on her a little more.

I tried to mute her brilliance, but no matter what I did, her radiance seeped out. After looking at all the renditions, I looked at her again, and decided…too much is actually okay. 

So…

This one is for all of you who have ever felt the need to douse your light or mute your shine to make others comfortable. 

This one is for all of you who can tell from the side-eyes, rolled eyes, wide eyes, and blank stares that people just don’t know what to make of you.

This one is for all of you who have been told at one time or another you’re too silly, too loud, too dramatic, too “extra,” too smart, too colorful, too difficult, too much this or too much that.

This one’s for you. 

In spite of all those eyes and all those voices that don’t yet appreciate the grandeur of your extraordinary—your “too much”—keep being you. 

You might as well. There’s absolutely nothing you can do to subdue your light. Besides, the rest of us love you, and for us, your “too much” is actually okay!

This Ordinary Moment…

PL-1

Right now, I am sitting in the silence of this moment. In one of my favorite “just be” places. It is not my favorite hour of the evening. There is still the lingering hustle and bustle of the day–a load of laundry running, dishes waiting to be washed, son studying, hubby recuperating from surgery forcing himself to be still, and I’m trying to stop myself from ticking off in my brain all the things yet undone. Thankful that dinner for tomorrow is already prepared and we are one day closer to weekend. Right now is divine as I pause to put pen to page—fingers to keyboard—and find meaning in the mundane. The laundry. The dishes. The everyday rhythms of a household, of a life. It is all meaningful. It is all sacred. Gift and grace. So, as I survey the “yet to be done” landscape, I sigh with gratitude for the mundane, for the unremarkable, for the extraordinary sacredness of this ordinary moment. 

Postcards That Make a Statement | Literary Wisdom

Our Best Guides

Jane Austen, Mansfield Park


Who Sent It? Lisa (LisaLaughs) sent this one for a “literary wisdom” swap for the Cup and Chaucer group on swap-bot. I haven’t really participated in swaps since the beginning of the pandemic. I really enjoyed hosting literary postcard swaps, so I’m trying to find time to get back into it. The postcard comes from a set of 100 Jane Austen postcards, From the Desk of Jane Austen, which features quotes from her books and letters. These have been some of my favorite postcards to send, so I am always happy to receive one (back)!

Postcards That Make a Statement | We Love You, John!

“The John Lennon Wall.” A public art display honoring John Lennon and the Beatles. Located in Praha 1, Prague., Czech Republic.


Who Sent It? The handmade postcard above featuring part of the John Lennon Wall was sent to me by swapper Philippa D (papercaper) on swap-bot. It was sent 12 years ago for a “Simply Love” postcard swap. Since the wall is always changing (as people draw and write over existing art and words), I really appreciate this little bit of what it was.

Postcards That Make a Statement | Good at Heart

Anne Frank

Anne Frank (1929-1945) and her family hid for over two years from the Nazis in Holland. Her diary from these yers is an incredible testimony of the human spirit. Artwork by Susan Keeter, oil on canvas, 1996, Syracuse Cultural Workers

…in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.

I have an insanely busy week ahead, so I’m taking it easy on myself with low-effort posts. I will be sharing “quote” postcards I’ve received that haven’t been shared on Pics and Posts before. The posts will be (otherwise) wordless, but feel free to share your own responses and opinions about the quote in the comments. Have a good, productive, and happy week!


Who sent it? The postcard came from a new Love Notes friend, Dove S. She sent this one along with another one that I plan to share this week.