No One Said It Would Be Easy

(written May 14, 2016)

No one said it would be easy

to listen

to one

who knows the world

from another side.

No one said it would be easy

to honor what you know,

that he doesn’t want to see.

No one said it would be easy

to be confronted

with your blind spots,

unknown

or well-guarded.

No one said it would be easy

to let go of a few

of your thousand

points of privilege, 

the ones that feel like anchors,

even briefly,

and step

(freely?) 

into the sea of vulnerability.

No one said it would be easy

to admit that you like

the warm sand

of privilege,

the luxury of

forgetting,

even as your friends cannot.

No one said it would be easy.

Why should it be?

Why should it be easy for you

when so many cannot choose?

Step out

of the comfort,

toe-dip into the

cold, 

difficult,

unknown,

scary.

Wade in,

up to the calves,

the waist,

don’t stop until you’re breast-deep.

It’s only worth it when your heart is submerged.

Reach out your hand

to steady him or you,

you may not know.

You are not alone.

Push into the depths

until your feet don’t touch.

Swim

together.

Save

each other.

No one said it would be easy. 

Orienting Toward Gratitude

Dear friends, 

For what are you grateful? 

Since October of 2016 I have posted daily gratitudes on Facebook. I started the practice on the night of a presidential debate. Disgusted by what I was watching, I turned the debate off before it was over. Feeling quite activated, I knew I had to do something to settle down before trying to go to sleep. 

I turned toward gratitude. Noticing what I was grateful for that day didn't change the things I was worried or upset about. It did remind me that those things were not the whole picture. The rough stuff is never the whole picture. 

Even on the hard days, especially on the hard days, I take a few moments to orient myself toward gratitude, reminding myself that in the middle of challenges, grief, anger, and heartbreak, there also exists beauty, love, connection, support, and even joy...if we are willing to look.  

Beauty exists even when ugliness rears up. 

Connections happen even in a culture of disconnection.

Joy bubbles up even in the midst of grief. 

Life persists even when death visits. 

Someone told me recently that I am like a flower that springs up in the middle of concrete. I am Life persisting. So are you. 

Isn't that a beautiful thing? 

I have experienced a lot of grief over the last several years that I am not contributing to our world's well-being as expansively as I would like to. Being seen as that hope-filled flower reminds me that small contributions are meaningful, too. They are worthy of gratitude. 

Orienting toward gratitude reminds me to give attention to the ordinary because the ordinary often contains so much extraordinary. "Folding sheets like folding hands/ To pray as only laundry can": For the last several years I have gotten to sing Carrie Newcomer's Holy as a Day Is Spent for my church's Thanksgiving service. It encapsulates the wonder and gratitude we can bring to every day. 

Turning toward gratitude is not about ignoring or diminishing the very real challenges, concerns, and pains we experience. It is an antidote, a practice to cultivate resilience, a way to remind ourselves of the full picture, the both/and, or maybe the and/and/and, of life, so that we have capacity to stay grounded in what might otherwise topple us. Gratitude plants us in the rich soil of presence to what is and has been. 

Today I am grateful for the bright red of the burning bush in front of my house, Patty Petunia and Ralphie (my cats), borrowed books of poetry and prayer, a text chat with a good friend, a song sent by a dear one, being able to share these thoughts with you, and so much more. 

For what are you grateful? 

I'd love to know.

As an act of gratitude, I want to make sure you know that through December 1, you can get 15% off my Cards for Remembering decks and my 1:1 services and gift certificates. It would be an honor to share my work with you and your loved ones in this holiday season. 

I also want to share that this Monday, December 2 via Zoom, I am offering my Creating Conversations that Connect workshop with an emphasis on conversations about ideological issues. If you struggle to respond to comments of a loved one or you want to open a conversation with someone about a topic that's important to you, please join me. If you can't join live, the workshop will be recorded and available for 2 weeks afterward. 

And with that… Happy Thanksgiving, friends. 

With deep gratitude, 
Cory

P.S. A couple of weeks ago I had the honor of delivering the keynote address at the Norton Faith and Health Ministries annual conference. My talk was entitled You Are Your Own Beloved. If you want inspiration and encouragement to care for yourself, check it out. 

Choosing Revolutionary Love

Dear friends, 

Whew! What times we are living in. How are you doing? 

Election Day is Tuesday and the stakes are high. Many are bracing for a messy (or worse) aftermath. 

The violence in Gaza, Lebanon, Ukraine, Sudan, and other places continues. 

In the last month hurricanes have devastated parts of the U.S. Other parts of the world have also experienced destruction from climate catastrophes.

During that same time I've gone twice to hear Valarie Kaur speak about her vision of Revolutionary Love. The vision is grounded in the stories of the ancestors, those who have made it through hard times before us. In her book See No Stranger, she defines the term:

“Revolutionary love” is the choice to enter into wonder and labor for others, for our opponents, and for ourselves in order to transform the world around us. It is not a formal code or prescription but an orientation to life that is personal and political and rooted in joy. Loving only ourselves is escapism; loving only our opponents is self-loathing; loving only others is ineffective. All three practices together make love revolutionary, and revolutionary love can only be practiced in community.

I find myself turning to these words over and over, asking myself questions: 

What is mine to do? What is ours to do? 

Within that, where do my/our willingness and capacity meet? How can I/we expand capacity?  

And then, how can I/we root action in joy rather than pain? 

Another way to ask that is, how can I/we root in connection rather than disconnection?  

Sometimes answers are clear. I breathe deeply and prepare to take action. 

Sometimes the answers are murky. I breathe deeply with the hope that clarity will find its way through me and us.

Breathing deeply always serves. 

These are exercises in trust and patience. Perhaps you are practicing these, too.

If you have answers to the above questions, I'd love to know them.

My offerings are a few of my answers. If any of them speak to you, I hope you'll join me. 

In the meantime, let's keep breathing.

Let's keep turning toward one another.

In this time of All Saints, All Souls, Dia de los Muertos, Samhain, let us turn toward the connection and wisdom of the ancestors. They lived through tumultuous times. We are living proof that they made it. We, too, can find our way through. Together.   

May we orient ourselves toward the vision of what can be, even if it's a far-off vision.

With hope and gratitude, 
Cory