A Sacred Journey

practicing pilgrimage at home and abroad

Travel Tip: Collect Found Objects

Travel Tip: Collect Found Objects » https://www.asacredjourney.net

This flower was picked during a retreat a few years ago during a labyrinth walk. After the walk, I placed it in my journal to take my intention home with me. Now it sits by my beside, calling me back each day to my true self through the memory it holds.

Here’s a travel tip for you next journey:

Collect found objects from nature to remind you of the Sacred Encounters on your journey.

It’s free, which is always nice, but there’s also something mystical about a stone or a leaf that has inhabited thin places, bearing witness to your own Sacred Encounter and that of the many other pilgrims who have gone before you.

Bringing one of these natural witnesses home with you can symbolize your desire to invite the Sacred Encounters from your journey into everyday life. As natural objects brought indoors into your home, they stand out more than a trinket found at a corner shop, calling you to remember.

Travel Tip: Collect Found Objects » https://www.asacredjourney.net

This honeycomb is from my husband Kyle’s beehive down the street. It reminds me to store up spiritual nourishment so that when times are dry, I still have something sweet and rich to feed my soul.

Because of their uniqueness, these found objects have the power to bring you back to your intention as you pass them each day. And on days when life is so chaotic that you pass by without noticing (days that often come too frequently, unfortunately), your found objects can say your prayers for you, for they are a physical manifestation of  desire and represent a prayer uttered on some other shore for this time and place.

Something else I love about these found objects? They’re secret-keepers. Only you know what they represent, and to be honest, not many people will inquire further. Those who do? They’re your soul friends—keep them close.

Travel Tip: Collect Found Objects » http://asacredjourney,net

This moss attached to a stick is from a a retreat a few years ago spent with a group of vibrant, fierce women. It reminds me that there is a vibrant, fierce woman within me, too.

IDEAS FOR FOUND OBJECTS

  • press flowers or leaves inside a book or journal
  • collect a shell from the seashore or a rock from the bottom of a holy well
  • gather acorns or feathers that catch your eye

Like the practice of lectio divina, choose whatever speaks to you, inviting you to set an intention and calling you to remember. And you don’t have to be on a pilgrimage far away to collect these natural witnesses. You can gather things in your everyday life, too, reminding you that the Sacred is especially present in the ordinary—we just have to make the space for Sacred Encounter.

GO FURTHER…

Do you have any found objects—natural witnesses—that you’ve collected that call you to remember?

It’s Here! Introducing The Shop at A Sacred Journey

A Sacred Journey | Shop » https://shop.asacredjourney.net

It’s the 23rd of June, which means it’s time to release the hand-lettered, illustrated prints I’ve been on and on about for the past two months!

I’m so excited to share the final prints with you today, each infused with the spirit of pilgrimage. These prints are available exclusively as downloads in black and white and also with watercolor embellishments. And it gets better: every download package includes four sizes of each print! (That’s four prints for the price of one, not to mention the fact that you can print them off as many times as you’d like!)

Those of you who gave me your email when you took my recent survey should have an email in your inbox right now with a code to download your free print! Thanks again for your responses. I’ll be spending more time with them over the next few months now that the shop is launched!

I surprised my subscribers today with a little treat as well. Missed out? Sign up for my newsletter so you’re ready next time (+ get a FREE mini-guide!) Subscribe now »

The launch of the Shop at A Sacred Journey is also important because it will be the home to future products as well, including the start of the Spiritual Practices Library in the fall, the perpetual liturgical calendar at the onset of Advent, and Pilgrim Guides coming next spring. Read more about new things coming to A Sacred Journey »

So what are you waiting for? Check out the premiere set of prints in the Print Shop »

A Sacred Journey | Shop

Journey Guides + Spiritual Midwives: Sue Monk Kidd

Sue Monk Kidd » https://www.asacredjourney.net

My favorite novel by Sue Monk Kidd yet and her latest—The Invention of Wings. After I finished it I was tempted to turn right back to chapter one and start it once more.

Many moons ago, I said I was going to begin sharing about my journey guides and spiritual midwives—authors who have led me down new paths and aided me, creating the space for new ideas, experiences, and ways of being to be born.

One of those journey guides and spiritual midwives is author Sue Monk Kidd.

The first book I read by Sue (we’re on a first name basis, obviously) was in fact not her breakthrough novel and bestseller, The Secret Life of Bees (still $3.99 on Kindle!), though it had been published for many years at the time. No—the first book I read by Sue was a breakthrough of a different sort—her feminist memoir, The Dance of the Dissident Daughter: A Woman’s Journey from Christian Tradition to the Sacred Feminine.

It was the summer that I became a reader—an avid one, at least. That summer at camp, I stole as many moments as I could to read the pile of books stored in the trunk of my car—the make-shift library for counselors who move from cabin to cabin each week.

With each book finished and neatly returned to my trunk-turned-library, something within me shifted. New questions were being asked without need for answers. Hidden voices were growing louder; unseen parts of me were finally being recognized.

No book had a greater impact on me that summer, however, than Sue’s book. A friend let me borrow it as school ended that spring, and I finally picked it up during the final weeks of summer, not really knowing what it was about or how it would impact me.

Though I didn’t resonate as fully with every piece in the book then as I do now—seven years and many realizations later—a shift undoubtedly took place within me that summer at camp.

I know this to be true because it was at the end of that summer that I crossed out those verses in Timothy telling women to be silent, and no longer sang worship songs which referred to God in the masculine form (and let me say—I deeply enjoyed the rebellion).

Instead, I began dreaming of rituals pregnant with meaning and blankets spread out in a field under a full moon with candles lit, surrounded by a circle of trees representing vibrant women who knew their strength as image-bearers. (You’ll have to read the book, I guess.)

I never made it to that circle of trees—that summer, anyway. I returned to school with a new part of me awakened—some of my true self revealed—and it certainly sparked new explorations of spirituality. You could even say that it was that following fall that I stepped into my identity as a seeker. However, I wasn’t in an environment open to much seeking, and it would be many years until I picked up a book by Sue Monk Kidd again and was called to remember.

Is it any surprise, though, that the book that drew me in again to her work four years later was her pilgrimage memoir, Traveling with Pomegranates? Back with Sue again and in an environment that encouraged curiosity, I devoured her wisdom. And it is no wonder—her story is my story, just as the stories she weaves in her novels are the stories of women everywhere.

Though the story has undoubtedly evolved over the years, to me it seems that each of her books—whether memoir or novel—tell a version of that journey of self discovery shared in The Dance of the Dissident Daughter—from “Christian tradition to Sacred feminine,” from expectation to empowerment.

Because of this, I will forever read her works and breathe in her wisdom over and over, for it is a truth that I need to birth anew each day.

PS: A little bit of Sue Monk Kidd from one of my favorite shows, Super Soul Sunday:

GO FURTHER…

Have you read any of Sue Monk Kidd’s books? Which is your favorite?

When Will I Ever Arrive? (my new spiritual practice)

When Will I Ever Arrive? (my new spiritual practice)

I have always been a planner—always looked to the future for fulfillment.

As a child, playing house was the game of choice, and if I wasn’t playing house, I was playing school. I longed to be an adult—I would have it all then. At least, that was how my sketchbook made me feel—a notebook filled with floor plans and Pottery Barn clippings—a perfect home for a perfect life (and even then, I was just in middle school).

In high school, I remember coming to school on the first day of sophomore year with one goal: perfection. (Do we have any doubts now that I’m a One on the Enneagram?) To me, perfection didn’t necessarily mean that I wouldn’t make mistakes (though there wasn’t much room for error). Instead, it mean I was organized, I was confident, I was mature. Perhaps I got all of these ideas from my Martha Stewart Living subscription. (This would also explain why I asked for bath towels that year at Christmas.)

I didn’t obtain perfection that sixteenth year, sadly, nor did I throughout the rest of high school. (In fact, I came out a little more broken-hearted than perfection might allow.) But that was okay. I was going off to college, finally on my own. Surely this would be the time when I would finally arrive. Surely then I would feel happy, fulfilled, whole.

That was nearly ten years ago, and still, with each new start, the hope is there—perhaps this is when I’ll finally arrive. (Is it any wonder that I’ve moved so many times and been so many places over that period of time?) Even though I have enough awareness now to recognize this longing—its impossibility to be met and its ability to keep me in a state of lack—the question still remains: when will I ever arrive?

Still today, this longing finds its way into my routine, my home, my relationships, and especially my work. These days, it is my husband who gets to experience the reverberation of this longing and feeling of coming up short, whether it’s seasons of self-doubt, expressions of resignation, or bursts of obsessive striving. For the first time, someone is regularly witnessing and experiencing at least a part of what I feel on a daily basis.

Perhaps this is why what he said to me a few weeks ago as we ate breakfast one morning created such a shift in me.

“Maybe you’ll never arrive like you want to,” he said with conviction as he put his fork down and leaned forward on the table.

I slumped with sadness in my chair, his suggestion weighing me down heavily with its truth. So much of my identity was tied with this longing, and to name it as false and begin to release it would mean to release a part of myself, too. But I knew something had to change. Over and over, for years on end, I’ve had the same longing—hidden or not. And over and over, for years on end, I’ve expected different results—to finally, once and for all arrive.

After a few moments, I suddenly sat erect in my chair, an Aha! moment breathing new life within.

“What if arriving isn’t about achieving success as our culture makes it out to be,” I offered, slowly and with a glint of excitement in my eye, “but instead about arriving in the moment? What if arriving isn’t something we strive for in the future but something we choose in the present?”

With his smile telling me that I was onto something, I then went on with the rapid speed that matched my newfound energy. My hands joined in with enthusiasm as I went on to talk about Eckhart Tolle or someone-or-another who said that the future doesn’t exist and the past no longer exists and the only time that truly exists is the present and doesn’t this all suddenly make sense?!?!?!

Whew. I know.

Now, I’ll be the first to tell you that even though in that moment I would have taken my new message to the streets and held a revival, my longing to arrive hasn’t gone away. (After all, perhaps I’ve finally arrived at the answer, right?) It still creeps in daily—sometimes even by the hour—in moments of self-doubt and chaos.

But my Aha! moment hasn’t left me either. Instead, it’s invited me to a new way of being and a new spiritual practice. Now when I get caught in those feelings of lack, I do my best to return and to remember—return to the present moment and remember that by returning to the present I have arrived to the only moment where I can receive peace and fulfillment and connect with my true self and the Divine.

GO FURTHER…

How can you practice arriving today? 

So, What is a Spiritual Practice Anyway?

So, What is a Spiritual Practice Anyway? » https://www.asacredjourney.net

Over the past week or so, I’ve been enjoying slowly going over your responses to the Spring Reader Survey (I plan on giving them my full attention after my print shop launches on June 23). Even though I don’t personally know many of you, after reading your responses, I feel like I know something more of your desires, your questions, and your spiritual journey, and it is a gift to have you share those things with me.

One thing that stood out in your responses is your hunger for spiritual practices. In response to my question about which types of post you like best at A Sacred Journey, posts on spiritual practices ranked highest at 85 percent, with posts on intentional living not far behind. With that insight, along with my recent announcement of the beginning of the Spiritual Practices Library of mini guides coming in the fall, I’ve been wondering for my sake and for yours, What is a spiritual practice anyway?

When I begin to try to answer that question, what comes to mind are examples. You’ve got the seven ancient practices recently brought to light again by The Ancient Practices Series, edited by Phyllis Tickle—sabbath, tithing, praying the hours, the liturgical year, Eucharist, fasting, and pilgrimage (my personal favorite, of course).

There are practices specific to contemplative spirituality, many stemming from the desert fathers and mothers, such as lectio divina, centering prayer, examen, walking the labyrinth, and even spiritual direction and companionship.

And then there are other practices that have been adopted from spiritual traditions beyond Christianity, such as yoga and meditation.

But naming various types of spiritual practices doesn’t really answer the question of what a spiritual practice actually is. You could, of course, look deeper at the meaning behind the words, perhaps drawing significance from synonyms. But people aren’t too fond of thinking of spiritual practices as disciplines—it’s hard enough to understand the word practices as is.

It’s likely we all first encountered the word practice in childhood, when we practiced sports to become better athletes or piano each day to prepare for the big recital. I, for one, wasn’t a fan of practicing piano (and I didn’t like sports enough to want to practice them, either). I was supposed to practice piano for thirty minutes each day, and I hated practicing so much that I wanted to quit taking piano lessons all together.

I remember expressing this to my mother more than once as I slumped at the piano bench in resignation after losing out to the metronome once more. “No,” my mother would reply from the other room. “You can’t quit piano because my mother let me quit when I wanted to and I’ve regretted it ever since.” (I will confess, she was right. I’m glad she told me no, and I’m glad she made me practice.)

My days of taking piano lessons and having to practice each day are long behind me, but my younger brother, on the other hand, has turned practicing piano into a full-time job. He recently graduated from college, where he was a piano performance major, and is off to graduate school in the fall for the same thing. He practices eight hours a day when he’s able—the same pieces day after day, hour after hour, until the time comes to perform them for a recital or juried performance. And then he starts all over again.

He becomes better and better with each session, no doubt. But between you and me, I couldn’t imagine anything worse.

No wonder people struggle with the idea of spiritual practices when practice in our culture is a means toward achieving a goal. While routine is at the root of all practice, spiritual practice as not about perfection. Practice as a means to perfection is great for mastering a tennis serve or a piano fugue, but the spiritual journey is an entirely different paradigm.

The spiritual journey is a never-ending pilgrimage—a continuous cycle of departure, arrival, and return. It isn’t something to be mastered; rather, it is something to be lived.

This is where intentional living comes in. If the spiritual journey is something to be lived, then spiritual practices help bring us back to our intention. They serve as an invitation to actively journey, to open ourselves toward Sacred Encounter, and to listen deeply to our Inner Witness—the indwelling of the Holy Spirit and the place within us where the true self and the Divine meet.

This could happen through one of the tried-and-true spiritual practices mentioned earlier. But the places we are passionate bring us back to our intention as well. For you, this might happen through making music or hiking in the wilderness. These days, creating space is feeling more and more like a spiritual practice for me—in my schedule, in my home, and especially in my mind.

But here I am naming examples again. (It’s hard not to, isn’t it?) Still, I think we’re close to a more suitable definition. So, what is a spiritual practice anyway?

A spiritual practice is a regular rhythm that calls us to return and remember—to return to our intention and remember what it is that we seek.

GO FURTHER…

What invites you to return and remember? How can you turn that into a spiritual practice?

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