When the words just spill out from my soul 🩶
Seven Sacred Days: The Spring Series #5
Hi. A few words about this very personal letter that you are about to read. I just let it spill out of me and had no idea I would end up where I ended up. It is very much a story that reveals a lot about who I am, but I trust you to hear and hold this part of my story. It felt so good to write it all down. Mostly, my friend, I am ever grateful that you are here to receive my words and thoughts. What a privilege it is to be able to share this space with you. xx liz.
Hello, friend.
I have had a hard time following my plan with these Seven Sacred Days letters. I’m not sure why. Perhaps I really just have been quite busy. Still, I have been wondering - what is the difference between these letters and the series I wrote back in December? Why isn’t it flowing now like it did back then?
I think that maybe it has something to do with the energy of the season. December is a dark, cozy, deep month. We are all drawn inward; and we long for quiet, reflective moments. It’s easy to write and read in those liminal, mystical days of winter.
Spring energy is, obviously, quite different. Energy is rising and I find myself being drawn out from the silent, still moments of deep rest. And, while my contemplative soul remains the same no matter the season, I find that my focus truly does shift from the inner mysteries of myself to an outward, communal way of living. And I realize now that my priorities have been aligning with the active, outward energy that is rising with each day. In other words, the atmosphere and way I want to write to you, must also shift with the seasons. I cannot do things the same way I did them back in December. Perhaps cozied up at the kitchen table, with a candle and a cup of coffee in the morning isn’t exactly the vibe I need when I write during the season of spring.
So, I guess need to find my spring groove.
The initial idea I had with these Seven Sacred Days letter to you, as a way to welcome spring, was to share 7 ways I am preparing for the season of light and life, the active, outward half of the year. However, this year, these first few weeks of spring overlap with the liturgical season of Holy Week and Easter, and it seems that that has affected and inspired my writing this week. My own thoughts and feelings and contemplations about Holy Week have been mingling with the energy and magic of the coming of spring. And, I’ve simply been allowing whatever flows out of me to spill out onto my keyboard as I write to you.
I suppose I feel like I haven’t been that focused in these letters, or they have been a little all over the place, when I have finally created space to sit down and write to you. I am not trying to write a disclaimer or excuse myself or apologize for anything, it just felt necessary for me to get a grip on myself - for my own sake. And I process best when writing, so today, you’re on the receiving end of my little monologue. 😉
I really wanted to write to you yesterday, on Maundy Thursday, about about my plans and intentions for gathering, celebrating, and creating community during the spring and summer. It is the perfect season for communing with each other and meeting up with each other. And, it also felt appropriate to write about breaking bread and sharing wine together on the day that is the remembrance of the Last Supper. I wanted to focus on the power of being together.
But, now it is Good Friday, and my mood is quite different.
I should have known that my mood would be equally influenced by the sacred days of spring and Holy Week. I suppose I should have anticipated the intersection of these spiritual holy days in my life. If I am honest with myself, there is no way I can celebrate and honor the rhythms and energy of spring without also celebrating and honoring my own deep roots in the ancient traditions of Holy Week and Easter.
I don’t often think about my Christian roots anymore. But, they run deep. And, I suppose this week, and this series of letters, has reminded me of that.
While I am no longer a part of organized religion of any kind anymore, my Christian upbringing and involvement influences everything about who I am and how I live. I asked tough questions as a teenager and found acceptance in the arms of my youth group. I explored my own personal contemplative faith and learned values of equality, justice, and mercy from my parents and at university. I studied theology at the graduate level, received a Master’s of Divinity degree, and worked as a minister in the Methodist church for years. I shared a message of love, acceptance, and the importance of a balanced life - filled with time for rest and reflection, but also with action and advocacy (sound familiar, all your seasonal living friends?).
I am certain that my deep commitment and love for living in rhythm with the cycles of nature springs from my theological belief of life, death, and rebirth - though that is not only a Christian belief, but one shared my many religions and spiritual traditions around the world. However, the church is where I first learned of the natural cycle of things. Over the years, I saw that not only does the sacred earth follow this rhythmic cycle, but so does my own life - both physically and spiritually. And that foundational belief of our interconnectedness led me to embrace a wider, deeper, more global way of living.
Fifteen year ago I left organized religion when the church would not accept my marriage to my wife.
This went against everything I ever believed in and taught. I tried to stay within the organization, like my late grandfather did in 1960s America, working and fighting for change and equality from the inside. But, I couldn’t. I had outgrown it all. My spirituality had become so much wider than “just Christianity”. I needed space and freedom.
I no longer call myself a Christian because I do not hold fast to those beliefs anymore. However, I recognize and honor that Christianity is the foundation on which my life is built. But, my roots run deep down into the earth from that foundation. They reach way back, deep into ancient days of mystics and saints, to pagans and shamans, to rebels and outcasts. I suppose Christianity was the seed that was planted in my soul. And it was watered and cared for by others in the beginning of my life. Then, I sprouted and grew and learned within that faith. But, after a while, there was a bud and bloom. And it wasn’t at all what I expected. Perhaps I wasn’t a flower, but a tree. Perhaps I needed to create my own way forward.
It took years, it has taken years, for me to see the beauty in and accept my own blooming and flowering and growing process. At first, I thought it meant leaving behind who I was from the beginning. But, no. After years and years, I finally understood that my story is all part of the same seed - the roots, the sprout, the stem, the bud, the flower, the tree.
And so, here I am as spring begins once again, pondering everything about who I am, remembering my roots, readying myself to bud and bloom and grow in whatever way unfolds for me during this season of my life. Never losing who I have been, all that I have learned, and the foundation on which my life was built… but with that stable ground beneath me, ready to reach upward, move forward, and evolve into who I am becoming as the days and weeks unfold before me.
Before I end this not-at-all-what-I-had-planned letter to you, I just have one more reflection. As I was looking back through things I’ve written throughout the years on my choice to leave the church and the deeply difficult process that it was, I saw a pattern: Spring, Lent, Holy Week seems to be the time that I write the most about this. Every time this time of year comes around, something deep inside of me feels called to remember and reflect. I suppose it’s only natural. It is a season for deep spiritual reflection, if you think about the theme of wandering in the wilderness, fasting, and realigning your life with your values.
To me, as spring begins, after all of the wisdom and magic from winter has alchemized and settled into our souls, it only makes sense to pause for one last moment to remember who we are and from whence we came, before surrendering to the powerful rising and budding and growing energy that is guiding us onward to be exactly who we are meant to be.
Blessed holy weekend, my friend. And, thank you for listening. Feel free to always share any thoughts or words you want with me. I am here to listen to you as well. 🫶🏼
xoxo. liz.
If you would like to read more about my story of being excluded from the church and how it happened, you can do that on my blog right here.
Thank you for sharing your story Liz, I loved how you described your story as coming from the same tree and we can embrace it all. Wishing you love at this sacred and tender time xx
What an incredible life story Liz showcasing so much strength and resilience in finding your own path and honouring what’s truly you! Sending you love x