It took years, who's to say how many, but I finally made the decision and acted on it. Over a long time some folks have asked me if I had or why I hadn't been ordained as a minister. Now that I think about it my excuses for not doing it always did seem somewhat lame, weak and clearly avoiding myself and my gifts. Regardless of that, I truly did not want to ally myself with a dogma I cannot swallow, to which I cannot give allegience. It took time, but here I am: Reverend (some would say irreverent) Gini Smith, aka Spirit Eagle.

One of the major hurdles I had to leap -- and then discover it had disappeared during the leap -- was accepting ordained status as a reality in my life became not so much about me and more about what other people need in their lives. We humans usually need ceremony and ritual of one sort or another to mark important events and times. We also usually feel most comfortable if there is a person standing in as ceremonial leader who has recognized and accepted status to perform the requested remembrance, be it wedding, memorial, or any other deeply meaningful moment. The other realm where we seek spiritual leadership is exactly in that area - spiritual experiences. We want someone who truly has spiritual authority and presence in the role of leadership and guidance.

What does this mean in my life? What do I plan to do with it? Good questions, ones I am only beginning to answer. Certainly, over many years I have gained education in theology, philosophy, various religious traditions and practices. I have become recognized by those who know me as a spiritual leader, a healer of the spirit. Time and experience combined with learning and growth in my own spirituality have led me on the trail towards realizing who I am and the gifts I may share. Now it is time to use all this and I offer it freely.

Right now I am still somewhat awed at the courage it seemed to take to make such a step and am absorbing my own recognition of who I have been all along. My role is one of opening the windows and doors to allow the spirit of love and power to blow through and to bring the beauty of light and warmth wherever desired.

"The Land of Oz"  This was the second in a long series of books by L. Frank Baum and my dad's cousin, Betty Washburn, gave me the book to read during a visit the summer after I finished the first grade.  I devoured the story and was enchanted by Jack Pumpkinhead, Tip and all the adventures they enjoyed. It was a fat book, one most of the adults around me thought was too difficult for me to read at the age of six years.  Little did they understand that reading was and still is the delightful door for my imagination and opened very early in my life.  Betty gave me that book when we left and its magnetic pull led to what eventually was my large collection of Baum's Oz series. 

Creativity is the expression of a being's uniqueness to share with the universe.  The wonder of creativity is its incredible diversity.

I am not comfortable about this new wrinkle of "seeds."   I plan to give away all those seeds and hope they don't reappear, using them as a means to tell a few folks I care deeply for them and their presences.   In many ways this exercise seems a tiny bit juvenile and needy.  It also seems to make an opportunity for judgment and non-acceptance, neither of which I find beneficial to enlightenment and spiritual growth.

Consequently, if you get a seed from me, please understand I give it to let you know I do care for and value you.  When I run out, that's fine.

Agreeing to ordination was a big step. In the weeks since I have been thinking and wondering. What next? What does this mean? Where to I go? What is my path? What do I want?

The answer is almost unbelievably simple, so clear and bright it makes my eyes widen in surprise at how easy it all is. Recently, regarding another subject entirely, my friend Ann said to me, “We humans make things so difficult.” How true, so very true...about just anything. We make things so difficult and muddy up the clear waters without a second thought. Then we wonder why the water isn't as clear and beautiful, why we can't see the bottom of the stream. It is time to stand still, to allow the fullness of what the stream carries to settle again, to see to the center once more.

The other evening I listened to two talks, accompanied by short guided meditations/visualizations by two women, one a writer with many years' life experience, one an ordained minister who seems to be opening some new avenues of spiritual possibility and celebration. I connected with both, more strongly with the second. When she knew I also am an ordained minister and open to sharing the gifts I possess, she asked where my areas of interest lie. All I could say at that moment was: I am still finding my way and I work best with individuals and small groups.

As I have continued to consider her question in the light of where my spirit soars and finds best and most complete expression, I realize my path is the same as it has been most of my life. It is a path not readily understood in twenty-first century society outside of the ancient monastic traditions. Nor, even if understood, is it a path 99.9% of the spiritually connected individuals in the world will choose. Yet, it is my path. My deepest and truest being is one of a contemplative mystic.

What does this mean with respect to how I can share my gifts and talents? What does this mean in how I live my life from day to day: working full-time, sharing a home and what time we both have with a partner, seeing to my aging aunt's needs, wants and business affairs? Added to those question is the first one: how do I make use of my availability as a spiritual healer, teacher and presence?

This continues on my blog at From the Eagle's Nest.

 

I have been rather occupied with my aunt's declining health, hospitalization and all the associated concerns the last few days, more than usual. On the level of loving relationship I have all the commitment to and sharing time with her taking a front row in my mind and heart. On the level of analytical thinker, that part of me always present and helping keep the balance, I am watching her, those who are tasked with her care, observing actions, reactions, listening to what is said and what is not.

As I drove her from the hospital where she spent a few days being treated for congestive heart failure, erratic blood pressure, etc etc etc, I noticed something I had not seen so clearly before. Perhaps it wasn't there before. She seems much diminished. Her body was sitting in the front seat beside me but the vitality of her spirit has waned in the last few days. I checked her into the skilled nursing facility, as recommended by her physician, and could not help but notice how much less of her there was in front of my eyes. While she is not cyanotic, even when short of breath with the inability of her lungs and heart to deal with the effects of aortic stenosis, she was not as vivid as she had been just ten days ago.

The analytical part of me was busy even while my heart was fully engaged with Aunt Ruth. She has lost so much of her memory, both short and long term. Unless she has regular contact with people, she forgets them. She knows about some people but has lost her ability to remember more than knowing who they are. She does not recall events, faces, encounters. Knowing how poorly she processes verbal communications and mental gymnastics now, I chose to tell her very little of what I have learned of her physical condition or the prognosis. Of course, we all share the same prognosis. All of us will transition from this physical existence as we know it. Some just will do it sooner than others. However, her aortic stenosis is untreatable and the only action to be taken is to keep her as comfortable as possible. There will be no heroic measures, no cpr, no intervention. When her tired heart stops, she will go.

Aunt Ruth, like her five sisters and mother (my mother included), is reticent about deeply-held thoughts. All she asked me was if I was okay with ... I looked into her eyes and told her I want her to be at peace and to choose for herself . I told her I am perfectly content with what she chooses. She nodded and smiled very slightly. We did not need further discussion. It is done. I asked her if Aunt Dorothy, the first of the six sisers to pass into the next form of living and the one with whom she was closest, had been on her mind. I happen to know most of my family is a bit (or a lot) uncomfortable with my weirdness, so I was careful to express my question in a form that would be easy and comfortable. She said Aunt Dorothy had been on her mind a lot lately. Of course, Aunt Dorothy will be the one to take her hand as she transitions and help her make those first steps of birth into new being. I told Aunt Ruth that her sister would be present with her and would not leave her alone. She smiled and looked a little surprised when I told her that her other three sisters and mother are there also and they will have a big party when she arrives.

She chuckled at the thought of a party (I do know my Aunt Ruth and her party self) and I told her I loved her and will see her Saturday. The two-hour drive home last night was quiet, peaceful and easier than I expected.

Nothing defines us more than our celebrations, and all of us in every culture, society or group of people celebrate our connectedness with others with more traditions and passion than anything else we can imagine.  The power of the United States' celebration of Thanksgiving Day is its recognition of the importance of community and, to a large majority, the nuclear family itself.  Perhaps the angst so many people feel when this holiday is not what we imagine it "should be" is how clearly we recognize the lack of close community and disconnectedness some of us live. 

This day is the one day, almost more than any other on the calendars of U.S. residents, when we recognize the one truth by which we define ourselves.  We are community beings.  I have yet to see or hear a person define him/herself without at least some reference to connection with someone else.  Even the Christian metaphorical description of the Sacred is one of community, the Trinity.  All cultural and religious traditions are centered on relationship of one sort or another.  Community, family, togetherness is what defines life itself.  It is something not only to be recognized as important, but something to be celebrated as life-giving and life-supporting.

One of the most powerful examples I have observed was the life of a man whose spirit and life virtually disintegrated as he lost, one by one, all the signs of connectedness and community he valued all his life.  I met him in mid-1985, a few months after returning to single living.  He was an effusive, gregarious, emotionally expressive man, Jewish by birth and from Brooklyn.  My experience of my Jewish friends and acquaintances tells me this is probably a culture and identity with some of the most powerful traditions we can imagine. 

Over the ten years we were connected I saw a vital, intense and interesting man become someone no one who had known him before this time would recognize.  Before we met in Houston, Texas, he had lived all his life in New York or close by.  He had enjoyed a successful career on Wall Street until one of the severe economic downturns ended his work there.  In very few years he lost his marriage, his home, his livelihood and his father.  All these things were crucial to him as identification of who he believed himself to be.  When he and I met on a commuter bus to downtown Houston and our jobs, he was living in an apartment in the southwest side of the city and working on the security staff of one of Texas' major banks. 

By the time we went separate directions he was mentally disassociated from everyone except the rare times he was able to see his son.  He lost his ability to maintain adequate employment as what had begun as depression took on the characteristics of what now is often described as bi-polar disorder.  He no longer could enjoy reasonably intelligent conversations, nor could he maintain responsible behavior.  He lost his ability to relate and to see himself as related to others, except his son.  This last characteristic was exacerbated and hastened when his mother died.  Eventually, because he knew his inability to be responsible, reliable and relational had destroyed our life together, he requested that we go separate ways.  He no longer wanted to try to live in relationship because he did not know himself to be connected to anyone or anything.

We seek to celebrate our connectedness, our identities as family and community.  This is so crucial to our wholeness that we build all sorts of traditions and expectations into one day in the year.  It is no wonder no other celebration carries as much baggage and has so much potential for anguish and joy.  Our spirits long for unity with each other and with the Sacred, and when we lose some of the connections, it is no surprise we can find this day to be so difficult.  Then, if we choose, we can begin to rebuild and to rediscover the connections to others and with the Sacred Presence.  Then we can again celebrate and be grateful.

Recently a friend commented on a particularly challenging reality  so many of us face as we attempt to live as caring, compassionate and connected beings.  Her reaction came as the result of reading another blog I wrote in which I shared the story of a man whose relationship I lost as he lost all his relationships, his career, and even his mental health.  Her observation spoke to the truth that there are no guarantees that even our best efforts will not end in loss and pain.  We can do everything right in a relationship, but the results are not completely ours to control.  There was sadness in her comments but also positive resolve to continue choosing compassion as a way of life.

Ever since reading those comments I have been thinking about them.  I made the choice to be a compassionately loving person and there is no other path I would take.  I believe I made that choice when I agreed to be in physical existence at this time.  For me, there is no other way to live but to love without condition and to love with compassion. 

I also became a bit curious about the distinction between compassion and altruism.  Blame it on an inveterate desire to use words precisely.  My daughter Maggie says, "Mom, you're such a Virgo...and so am I."  However it plays out, I make efforts to express my most accurate meaning and hope my words are understood as I mean them to be understood.  That is why I checked my definitions to be assured of clarity.  Of course, the desire for clarity around those two terms has led me on another merry mind chase.

To share (for the sake of clarity) before I proceed on with why I continue to choose a compassionate life:  altruism is about doing for the benefit of others without expectation of return.  Compassion is all about altruism but with an added motivation - to alleviate suffering.  In either instance, there is no thought of or desire for recompense or return.  It seems to me that compassion is altruism taken to the level of the heart in a manner suggesting a sharing from a deeply personal place.  There appears to be a more passionate connection between the one who loves and acts with compassion and the one whose suffering evokes such response.  Altruism is a good and necessary quality.  Compassion makes it personal.

As I think about being compassionate, I realize it would be so much easier, less challenging, take less energy and time to stay present with people on the level of altruism.  Altruistic people do care, otherwise they would not give so generously to facilitate all manner of beneficial activities.  To love beyond that place is to become more deeply connected to the lives of those who suffer and seek not only to improve the welfare of those who have need, but to seek to understand the individual pain the need causes.  Perhaps it is such understanding that recognizes the often painful reality that such needs cannot always be resolved completely and the opportunities for continued suffering are abundant because of insufficient resolution.  Yet, even with continued suffering, compassion seeks to ease the pain even in the midst of its cause.  Compassion is not so much about doing as being.

Even as I think about all these things, I realize I choose compassion because it is who I am.  There is no other answer.  It is, though, a definite choice.  It comes from a place where I have experienced and now live in complete awareness and growing understanding of unconditional love.  To have realized I receive the gift of unconditional love evokes the only response I understand, to love unconditionally myself.  This is action, not a feeling when it is comfortable and easy.  Loving without condition and acting with compassion are anything but easy and are often very uncomfortable.  Because this loving is unconditional, there is no motiviation, no expectation, no desire for anything but the ability to continue.   Love is for its own sake. 

On occasion, sometimes frequently, other times not at all, there are the "warm fuzzies" of feeling to help the process along.  Because I seek to love without condition and because I have the gift of discernment, seeing people and situations very clearly, I recognize easily the ugliness, occasional stupidity, frequent selfishness and all the foibles, mistakes and mis-steps all of us experience as humans.  Yet, loving without condition allows me to see and to experience such challenges without losing my balance.  Along with the darkness a person can show to everyone around I also see the beauty in that person's soul, sometimes unrecognizable or even unknown to that person.  The challenge is to know when to speak and when to be silent, when to act and when to stand still.  Above all, respect for each person is key to true compassion.  There are times nothing can be done to ease the rough path a person walks as result of the choices he or she has made.  Compassion, then, is standing beside the road and being ready for whatever can arise, even if it is nothing at all.

About the only thing I can imagine all of us would agree is this:  If we are alive we are breathing.  If we are breathing, we are, to some degree or another, still alive.  (And no deep thoughts about what being alive means, just viable is all.)