Dearest Shannon. Your offerings are pithy, to the point, and always timely.
" The God who dwells here cares not for obligatory sacrifices or self-imposed suffering, but for nourishment and belonging and the promise of a greater goodness."
A FB friend shared today that measles in having a riotous comeback in America, welcomed by many for whatever sacrificial reason it serves. The god of old be praised in the wake of this new version of plagues on offer!
Another post told us the BEST places to live in the USA if there is a nuclear war! My first thoughts were ah....we are back to the sacrificial lambs so loved biblically as a way to show the god of your choice that you love HIM. I can stretch that to the plagues of Ancient Egypt; another way to worship the mighty powers of the thirsty gods of old; demented brain dis-ease is alive and well, the de-ment-ia of our times showing up in tedious cloaks of a not so holy darkness. Anyway, this is what came to me as I read your offering, Shannon. I am a fall away Catholic who has never re-invented the concept of LENT to nourish any part of my life...Sacrifice is just too tainted with memories of women burning at the stake, steers charcoaling on the barbecue, forest fires set alight by angry guys with beer in hand; all in all, sacrifice is just over-rated, in my view.
I too prefer a nourishing presence, a Holy Presence filled with galaxies of care and tenderness. A divinity that is always on the move in my life, a river that carries me / us in Her mighty womb. Her holy blood always attends and tends to Her creation wishing us an ever expanding conscious journey under Her MATERNAL GAZE. Frankly, sacrifice is a puzzlement to Her, a self obsessed way to diminish the field of BELONGING available to us as children of Great Mother. It seems, actually, that it is SHE that must do the necessary sacrificing based on whatever the hu-mans are cooking and serving up each day.
The note about your mom hating your tattoo made me laugh. When I got my first tattoo - a 1/4 sleeve shouldercap of Mary with baby Jesus - my mom teared up at how beautiful it was and then asked 'So now you're done with tattoos, right?' Nope! Got my second, a forearm tattoo of an owl with Easter lilies in honor of her, in December. She died last February and owls were her favorite. I can hear her saying 'I love the owl, but did you have to get such a big one?!?' 😂
Shannon, thank you for sharing these practices of nourishment. Two years ago this February, I experience a second life-threatening loss of blood after the birth of my son, four months prior. This second time, I didn’t loose enough blood for a transfusion. They sent me home so weak, I could not sing through a song or chop half an apple. Ash Wednesday was my first leaving from the house. I’ve never felt my humanity more apparent than that moment, when I could not physically stand to receive the ashes. Sometimes, indeed, an extra practice of sacrifice is not needed to show us how much we are in desperate need of God.
Thank you for these words, and for sharing your day on the couch. After a triggering event this week, my day to day will unfold much the same. Thank you for this permission to rest.
Thank you for the forest walking suggestion. I might begin doing that, there is a teeny woodland near my house. I’ve been listening to Kat Armas’ Sacred Belonging and it’s brilliant. I’m struggling to listen to just one chapter at a time. But perhaps lent is more of a state of soul rather than a calendar thing.
I’ve been trying to finish writing a newsletter for about 3 weeks. Writing is harder these days. Painting is more fun.
Dearest Shannon. Your offerings are pithy, to the point, and always timely.
" The God who dwells here cares not for obligatory sacrifices or self-imposed suffering, but for nourishment and belonging and the promise of a greater goodness."
A FB friend shared today that measles in having a riotous comeback in America, welcomed by many for whatever sacrificial reason it serves. The god of old be praised in the wake of this new version of plagues on offer!
Another post told us the BEST places to live in the USA if there is a nuclear war! My first thoughts were ah....we are back to the sacrificial lambs so loved biblically as a way to show the god of your choice that you love HIM. I can stretch that to the plagues of Ancient Egypt; another way to worship the mighty powers of the thirsty gods of old; demented brain dis-ease is alive and well, the de-ment-ia of our times showing up in tedious cloaks of a not so holy darkness. Anyway, this is what came to me as I read your offering, Shannon. I am a fall away Catholic who has never re-invented the concept of LENT to nourish any part of my life...Sacrifice is just too tainted with memories of women burning at the stake, steers charcoaling on the barbecue, forest fires set alight by angry guys with beer in hand; all in all, sacrifice is just over-rated, in my view.
I too prefer a nourishing presence, a Holy Presence filled with galaxies of care and tenderness. A divinity that is always on the move in my life, a river that carries me / us in Her mighty womb. Her holy blood always attends and tends to Her creation wishing us an ever expanding conscious journey under Her MATERNAL GAZE. Frankly, sacrifice is a puzzlement to Her, a self obsessed way to diminish the field of BELONGING available to us as children of Great Mother. It seems, actually, that it is SHE that must do the necessary sacrificing based on whatever the hu-mans are cooking and serving up each day.
The note about your mom hating your tattoo made me laugh. When I got my first tattoo - a 1/4 sleeve shouldercap of Mary with baby Jesus - my mom teared up at how beautiful it was and then asked 'So now you're done with tattoos, right?' Nope! Got my second, a forearm tattoo of an owl with Easter lilies in honor of her, in December. She died last February and owls were her favorite. I can hear her saying 'I love the owl, but did you have to get such a big one?!?' 😂
That tattoo is among the best physical memento mori (that’s already plural, right?) I’ve run across. And I went to parochial school.
Thank you Shannon. You have once again grounded us in a faith that is bigger than ourselves. I wrote a piece to kick of Lent. Enjoy 🙏
https://open.substack.com/pub/tracylwood/p/ash-valentines-wednesday?r=1jg5k8&utm_medium=ios
Peace and grace to you too, dear sister.
Shannon, thank you for sharing these practices of nourishment. Two years ago this February, I experience a second life-threatening loss of blood after the birth of my son, four months prior. This second time, I didn’t loose enough blood for a transfusion. They sent me home so weak, I could not sing through a song or chop half an apple. Ash Wednesday was my first leaving from the house. I’ve never felt my humanity more apparent than that moment, when I could not physically stand to receive the ashes. Sometimes, indeed, an extra practice of sacrifice is not needed to show us how much we are in desperate need of God.
Thank you for these words, and for sharing your day on the couch. After a triggering event this week, my day to day will unfold much the same. Thank you for this permission to rest.
Thank you for the forest walking suggestion. I might begin doing that, there is a teeny woodland near my house. I’ve been listening to Kat Armas’ Sacred Belonging and it’s brilliant. I’m struggling to listen to just one chapter at a time. But perhaps lent is more of a state of soul rather than a calendar thing.
I’ve been trying to finish writing a newsletter for about 3 weeks. Writing is harder these days. Painting is more fun.
Thank you for always sharing your life!
I recently got some new tattoos as well.
Happy Lent!
Beautiful. My mom hates all my tattoos. Thanks for your work.