Deepening Community
I recognized the growing niggles of anxiety that I had pushed to the furthest corner of my consciousness were growing more frequent. After several years of change and transition, bearing witness to individual and collective trauma and a growing concern for local and global justice – the dashboard of my life was full of flashing lights – a threshold moment of endings and unknown beginnings.
My life was speaking. PAUSE, Listen, and then act…with faithfulness.
In the context of my work and call as a spiritual director/supervisor, pastoral presence, and instructor, I usually prepare, host space for others, or present. I love the sacredness of the work. At the same time, if I am not intentional about making time and finding places and people that help tend my soul, it doesn’t happen.
Although I knew about Shalem, I had never attended Shalem programs. As a woman leader, I often feel like an edge-walker when navigating programs and testing the waters for inclusion. I looked through the website and the variety of offerings, and what caught my attention were the six guiding principles laid out in Vision 2025: Our Ongoing Hope. I felt a strong pull to be with others and be instructed by others committed to supporting and preparing those seeking a contemplative path.
I was looking for a virtual offering, so I attended the Heart Longings information session. I confess my protective internal manager cautioned, “Your life is already full. Are you sure you have the time or energy to add something else?” I revisited the site several times; however, deep down, I knew I was seeking a contemplative framework that would be broad and spacious enough for new avenues of exploration. I wanted new voices and mentors.
We live in such an individualistic culture, and there is a growing acknowledgment of rampant loneliness. I often feel the loneliness of my work. The collaborative framework hosted by wise guides at the first intensive established a trustworthy container and flow that grounded our monthly three-hour gatherings. The mixture of large group teaching and experiential practices, breakout group conversations, and pauses for personal reflection was life-giving and refreshing. The movement from a “me” to a “we” offered through the fullness of participation and shared insight was heart-healing for a single-person introvert. It confirmed that I wasn’t looking for more information or self-help but for the wisdom that comes from the depth of ongoing practices and experiential guidance in a community that still invites and helps still the heart for inner sanctuary encounters.
In addition, I had the opportunity to meet monthly with a group of four for spiritual direction. An experienced guide facilitated the group, inviting us into a spacious place for deeper listening, divine encounter, and reflection. Month by month, the depth of trust and vulnerability grew as we shared facets of challenge, articulated uncertainty in transition, and compassionately held the tension of suffering and goodness in our work and world. At the end of a session, I was surprised to discover the overlapping themes and graces I continued to ponder and revisit between our gatherings. This monthly gathering offered a shelter of belonging I didn’t expect but certainly needed. I realize I have gained greater freedom to recognize, honor, and respond to my deep longings and desires as I seek an inner stillness to ground faithful action in social justice concerns.
The various authors, poems, and excerpts from multiple contemplative traditions invited different entry places for reflection and practice. Having spent significant time in Palestine at the Ramallah Friends School and Tantur Ecumenical Institute in Jerusalem, my heart aches for the suffering and violence in this region. I have often wanted to turn my head away and distance myself. Howard Thurman’s writings offered a mentor’s voice as they combine the inward journey, self-awareness, social context, and the quality of faithful response.
My participation in Heart Longings has been transformational. I needed the piercing of the illusion of my professional space, familiar patterns, and expectations in the busyness of life to remember myself to the lover of my soul. “Come and see,” Jesus’ invitation to seekers of his day, is as true today as it was then—“Come and see!”
