I didn’t know this but on September 2007 when I declared a nine-month retreat–sabbatical, what I was really declaring was, “Where do I go when now that I’ve gotten to the end of my dreams?” At the time, my dreams seemed fine, thank you very much, but as I moved into less and less doing, I found my time off was becoming more and more about shedding and letting go: of outmoded dreams, of dreams that are so threadbare, they can’t even float on the River Denial anymore, of “should” dreams and good idea dreams and dreams other well-meaning people have for me. It’s turned into a dream heaving festival over here. Watch out because when you start such a process, the gods and goddesses love to jump in and help–my husband has shed our marriage, Spring Air shed me as a spokesperson and Body+Soul as a columnist. Oh bloody hell, I want to go back to what was known, to what was safe–help! But the worse thing one can do is stop the process mid-way through. I’ve done that several times before and where did I end up? Watch a current presidential debate and you’ll get a good idea: same old, same old. Boring. Trapped. Nothing raw, radical or unruly to be had.
I write this from my shedding nadir where the only dreams left on my list are: Reawaken the feminine, open my whole heart to Love, and create art with abandon and only for myself. Read those three again—see how beautifully interrelated they are? That astonishes me. And see how clearly tending to these will provide the energy for more specific dreams like rewriting my novel? And guess what? Art is the way in to it all, the way in and the way out. So this is what I’m trying:
- Open my big cheap art journal on my art table
- Put out some random paints, water, couple of brushes, oil pastels, water soluble crayons, alphabet stamps
- Glance slowly with soft eyes at one art book (current favorite Hans Hoffman), read two or three poems (current favorite Pablo Neruda odes), put on some music (Always favorite: Krishna Das).
- Feel into the space around me, behind me, in front of me, above me, below me.
- Ask Spirit to get me out of the way. Ask Spirit to fill me.
- Tell my small self, “It’s only for ten minutes. Nothing bad can happen in ten minutes.”
- See what emerges. Not for the sake of dreaming new dreams or getting anywhere but for the sake of being open.
We can dream our way through the wardrobe door, down the rabbit hole, out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing into a fresh field of learning and possibilities (to appropriate the Persian mystic poet Rumi) but only if we are willing to ask, “Where am I willing to go when I get to the end of my dreams?”
Footnotes:
* Diagnostic new age guru Louise Hay claims foot problems signify a fear of the future and not wanting to step forward into life. For me, my very sprained big toe came about because I was hurrying and I’ll buy I’m afraid to step forward so I see my sore toe as a lovely symbol of needing to rest and let go of everything, including fear.
* Child psychologist Bruno Bettelheim posited that grappling with horrible tales (he primarily studied fairy tales) gives children an outlet for natural angst and anxiety which makes me wonder if so many truly horrific horror movies are being consumed by teenagers right now because their anxiety about the future has left the building along with Elvis.
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27 responses so far ↓
1 Tracy Dec 26, 2007
Jen,
I’m sorry to ask something so personal, but over the years I’ve read so much of your blog, and so many of your books that I feel like I know you in some way – you’re like this distant friend I’ve never met…. did I read your post right? Your husband has ‘shed’ your marriage? I’m just trying to imagine this whole retreat process for you, and to have that thrown into the mix… well…I’m in a state of disbelief.
I’m sending you many many well wishes and blessings and strength. You are an inspiring force, dear woman.
Take good care,
xoxo
Tracy
2 Marilyn Dec 27, 2007
Jennifer, sending you healing thoughts as you embark on and embrace this next chapter in your journey. What’s that old line? Wanna make God laugh? Tell her your plans. May 2008 bring you fresh, new dreams that unfold in breathtaking new ways.
3 Beth Dec 27, 2007
I am in shock at your post. I had to read it several times to let it sink in. I am pretty sure you must be stuggling with the sinking in part.
But here is the thing. At the end, I thought for a moment and the word that came to mind was this: PHOENIX
Sending a gentle hug your way.
4 Colleen Dec 27, 2007
good gawd, Jennifer – I am feeling for you as I have been on a similar road (a few years back, my father died, my husband also ‘shed’ our marriage and I lost my job – all three happened within three months, things tend to happen in threes with me) – never having ‘seen’ any of them coming, I spent a long time afterwords rebuilding / rethinking / regrouping.
if you can leave yourself open (it was a lot easier after the losses, trust me – I had no idea how to bind up the wounds of that much loss in that short a period of time – felt like a boneless, skinless chicken breast looks!) and you look at things (people, books, places you visit, experiences you have) with a different set of filters. I value different things and have far less expectations of anyone except myself.
my dreams are no longer of things to ‘achieve’ or of ‘getting there’ but of connecting, sharing and growing. maybe that’s age as well as changing the definition of what the purpose of a dream is for in your life, of what it represents? maybe your art is the new road / purpose / dream and will change your definitions?
5 Tuxlux Dec 27, 2007
There must be something in the cosmos about getting to the end of dreams. I don’t have any either.
I woke up one morning and my physical house, life style house, and spiritual house were in a shambles. I woke up from the nightmare of years of abuse, self and otherwise. Now I’m putting things where they belong. Very methodically with a clear intent.
I’ve hired another organizer and am chucking physical possessions out the door with fervor. The Gods joined in with me too, our beloved Maltese passed after a year of illness, the house that has been on the market for 2 years just sold. I’ve even cut ties with toxic people
But loss is still loss. Grief is still grief. And it’s always “different when it happens to you” as my Bhoddisatva friend of mine always says.
Fall, the darkest days are my time of year. I slip into the darkness and feel at home. From here I draw my strength, talk to my spirit guides, put new sails on the ship and sail on. In the evening I turn off all the lights and light my alter candles. Right now I’m burning “Screw Perfection” and “Kiss My A**” from Zena Moon.
I wish I lived closer I’d bring you over for a crafty day with the girls and you could share all our tools.
Burn bright my friend, burn bright. God’s hands to hold your shoulders to walk you through the night. Remember you have friends out here in the darkness.
6 Karen Dec 27, 2007
Jennifer,
I have answers to nothing. It’s good for me to admit that. I try to have answers for everything–cute answers, smart answers, answers that will get me noticed, or advanced, or something I can’t even name.
Today I have no answers. The only thing I know for myself is there is a “solo-ness” within and without me where I am on this journey. I could invite fifty friends to my little house. I could meditate and call in every angel from the host and then some, but alone seems to keep coming back around. I don’t know if I’m supposed to “know” alone so well that nothing else can hurt me before newness comes in. Maybe so. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be alone as a way to be insular from others who are trying to hurt me. I don’t f–king know.
I know when I try to shed the things that have robbed me of myself, they claw and paw and blame and I’m tired. Somehow alone seems the better choice. Until the light offers me more notion of the way, I’m watching the world twirl from the window of my little house–alone. And that has to be okay–that and not knowing a damn thing.
I send you thoughts of healing wherever you are on your journey.
Love,
Karen
7 Karen Dec 27, 2007
p.s. about the foot thing–right now I have this foot problem–soreness, swelling, pain in one foot (and I need to get arond a lot for one of my jobs). I, too, have thought of Louise Hay’s diagnosis of fear of moving ahead. The body is such a funny and amazing thing.
k
8 Anonymous Dec 27, 2007
Dear Jen –
What courage you have! Knowing that one shouldn’t stop the process, and actively struggling to stay open to it, that takes serious guts. Perfect to use art this way – Life is Art/Art is Life. So sorry you are skirting that fear I know so well. It’s a mighty scary place many of us are visiting as another year comes to an end. Seen it in the comments, hear it from friends and family, all women. Just spoke with a far away family member who has been eaten up by the fear of being still for many, many years. Sharing my experiences with her was a good reminder for me: Used to think that if I’m still, i.e., Open, something terrible will happen. Such a surprise when absolutely nothing bad happened when I finally stopped. Pretty anticlimactic, even disappointing. How I had flattered myself that the world couldn’t go on if I stopped. The good news? Nothing bad will happen. Gave me the courage to do it again, until I started getting something out of being still. Making art is a form of being still, and of being open to love. Being open to Love, the Source as I see it, eventually brings/shows/creates what we need, even as we’re standing there horrified at the safe predictabilities we’ve shed (lost). “Now is the time to remember that everything you do it sacred.” (Hafiz)
Quiet artsy hug, Helga
9 Lee Dec 27, 2007
Jennifer,
When I’ve gone through tough periods of my life as what you’re going through right now, I keep close at hand those great words uttered by Picasso: “Every act of creation is first of all an act of destruction.” And like you, I’ve found that sometimes my old life has had to blow up to smithereens before a fresh, sweet gust of inspiration can sweep in and give me the strength to take a tentative step, and then another wobbly step towards a new life.
You’re right in realizing that you have to let this process of destruction continue to whatever end but I know it ain’t easy. It sucks, actually.
So I send you my biggest hug of encouragement and support. You’ve got some grand adventures waiting for you!
Hugs,
Lee
10 Maureen Dec 27, 2007
Dear Jen,
Now that a few comments have preceded mine,
I can jump in and realize I was not alone
in my shock at your recent post … my
surprise and sympathy at the sad news about your marriage. I had no idea life was thowing
you challenges that were quite THIS daunting.
I hope you know that to me you are one of the
most inspirational women I have ever met.
My first retreat with you was my first retreat
EVER and it opened me to entirely new ways of
growing — even though sometimes I fall back
into dormancy, like now for example.
If anyone can survive and thrive, dear Jennifer
it’s you.
Sending mega-hugs.
Love,
Maureen
11 Jennifer Louden Dec 27, 2007
Oh thank you, thank you for all the love and good hugs and kindred experiences. I have been living these changes, the marriage ones at least, since July, so I forget I hadn’t yet written about that part… and the work stuff… Just for the record, my column will appear in B+S through the April issue.
Ah, life is not so bad as I am writing this from poolside in Sayulita, Mexico. A lovely Christmas treat provided by my mother (the house rental) and my sister and her super amazing boyfriend and my super duper amazing Lillian are along for the ride. They leave this Saturday while Lillian and I stay, thankfully, through the 2nd. The sun and surf and long walks on the beach are lifting my spirits, and I am ever grateful for the gifts of your company as we tease apart this thing called a conscious life.
12 Maureen Dec 28, 2007
Good heavens, Karen,
Who are you? You wrote:
“Today I have no answers. The only thing I know for myself is there is a “solo-ness” within and without me where I am on this journey. I could invite fifty friends to my little house. I could meditate and call in every angel from the host and then some, but alone seems to keep coming back around. I don’t know if I’m supposed to “know” alone so well that nothing else can hurt me before newness comes in. Maybe so. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be alone….
I could have written this. You are the first
person I have “met” who actually “gets”
how I feel – what a great way to put it
… the solo-ness within…AND without.
True, I have much soloness
without in my life— A mentally ill mother; cold
rejecting father (both dead); two toxic
stepmothers; no siblings, etc. One repressed
adult son; no grandchildren…. and a feeling
that no one penetrates the aloneness.
Like you, I often feel so alone around others
that being actually alone can be preferable
but after awhile that, too, takes its
toll.
Jennifer’s retreats (and others’ retreats) push that aloneness away
while they last… but the soloness returns.
A small “Crones group” is starting
in January. I’ll try that out… but I remain
skeptical. Why god/goddess would put me on
such an alone path is totally beyond me.
Sending you love and support, Karen.
Maureen
13 Madeline Dec 28, 2007
Blessings and hugs to you and Lillian! Slate wiped clean: What will show up next? Just a few warm ocean breezes and lapping waves at your feet.Enjoy this fallow time when your Spirit is an open window letting in the fresh air of the new year ahead..
14 Photopoppy Dec 28, 2007
Jennifer,
I’m as stunned as the rest of the commentors on this post. When I read yesterday’s Self-Care Minder, I noticed “first New Years as a ‘divorcee’”, and rushed over here thinking I’d missed a critical blog post.
My heart aches for you, with all of these changes going with hardly any time to breathe in between. I wish I could send you the book that helped me so much years ago when a man I loved “shed” our relationship, but since you wrote it, I’m sure you probably already have a copy.
Hugs and support to you and to Lillian, who I’m sure is hurting as well. May the year to come be healing and carry lots of wonderful surprises for you – and may they not ALL be of the sort that’s life’s way of pushing you into the unknown!
15 Pam S. Dec 29, 2007
Am also experiencing a “dark night of the soul,” allowing frustration and confusion to rise & ebb (meaning: no medication, no booze, no drugs).
I continue to “left-foot, right-foot.” You (and apparently many others) are, too. I join in your healing.
I’m diving deep…thanks to your open-ness and all you’ve written & shared, I now have a process to use and am not afraid to feel it.
God/dess Bless,
16 Rebecca Dec 29, 2007
My comfort wish for you:
Warm sun
to warm the body and the spirit
lift your face to the sky and feel it sink to your bones
Sand and gentle lapping water
to heal
wiggle your toes as the surf laps over your feet
washed
clean and new
17 Kate I Dec 30, 2007
Jennifer…first of all…Sayulita is beautiful, but those hills! They’re a brutal workout if your house is even half way up the hill and most houses are! You’ll have buns of steel by the time your holiday is over! LOL!
And the other news…endings are always so difficult, even when you know deep in your heart that this is just another step on your way to a new life with new opportunities. I too have ‘been there’ so I know what it’s like to live in ‘the void’. You’ve left one thing behind but you haven’t stepped into the newness yet and there you sit…and sit…and sit…an empty void. You’ll move forward when the time is right. New dreams will come when the time is right. Your wise self will direct you when it’s time. Trust her.
Big hugs to you Jennifer. You’ve helped so many woman and you’ll come through this with a wisdom and depth of understanding that will enable you to do even greater things when the dreams return.
18 Goddess Leonie Jan 2, 2008
Dearest Jennifer,
My love and healing energies to you.
I feel like telling you… that in your words I sense a certain of presence and clarity… that is new… and growing…
May Great Spirit be with you always on your path,
I know it is, and always will be.
With heartfulness,
Leonie
19 Rene' Jan 4, 2008
Dearest Jennifer, As those who posted prior to me have said, what a shock – it is never easy, is it, even when you see it coming. I hope that the warm waters of the Pacific help begin your healing…I can think of no better way to start a new year and a new way of life. Let your art be your healer as well. It has always helped me out of the depths.
Take good care of yourself and of your sweet daughter.
20 Barbara Jan 8, 2008
Love to you in all that unfolds. Let yourself bloom from the blossom that you are. Thank you for your honest sharing. I dip in and out of your blog and always get so much from your generous nature and desire to radiate out goodness and compassion. Happy New Year, and thank you.
Barbara
21 Julie Jordan Scott Jan 8, 2008
Ahhhhhh, Jen. Life.
Life! My theme, lately,
has revolved around the
gloriousness of surrendering
into returning to dirt. I am
not talking about death, although
we know death has been with me
this year – instead I mean the
cycle of life, how there really
are many times in life when we
have the option of becoming dirt
again – and as I have surrendered
to this, such beauty has surfaced.
So Dickensian, this life of mine -
as I sit in front of a small space
heater because my heater died, oh
and my water heater died.. and what
else… oh, main computer died and
television died… and because of my
choice to take care of Sam while the
schools figured out their stuff, I
am needing to wait before I replace
all this broken stuff, which makes
for an interesting lifestyle… but
ohhhhhh… I have had more soulful
moments since being in this space,
too…. I am wishing you lots of
soulfulness amidst all the shedding
you are seeing. And hugs to Lillian -
I think of your face, when you “met”
Sam at the Chicago ICF back in 2001.
Not sure if you remember that… him
in a baby carrier at the sessions,
my sweet baby. I’ll stop my
rambling now……
22 sarah Jan 9, 2008
Jen, I felt fear as I read your post. Craving for deep thickness in my life. Looking for the raw, open, spilling I get to read on your blog. And it felt like a shock to not know that shedding and feeling and un-doing is not all song birds and joy of self-discovery. Your post and the comments here put life smack in my face. Wanting safety as well as honest depth. Safety. Mark Silver has taught me so much about safety. How we do need it, as humans. We need care, for not a moment can go without the planet giving our lungs air. Wanting love, I suppose again he might say, love we get from the divine. With a gentle love, sarah
23 Karen Jan 10, 2008
Dearest Jennifer and each one of you amazing women who write in this space–
Thank you. I feel like when I come here I am sitting in this sacred circle of women, except the circle is global and I can’t actually sit in it or see each of you. But better yet, I suppose, is the inner “seeing” that each of you allows me entry to, and I feel truly blessed in the same way as if I were hearing you read your words from the other side of the circle at a workshop.
What I so like about what Jennifer does here, is that she doesn’t make true, real, raw and edgy, weird and bulgy (is that a word?) feelings wrong. When we come here (since she opens such a wide space of honesty) we can as well. Many, many folks I’ve encountered along this journey have said, “You can’t dwell on that sad feeling or that alone feeling or that I-can’t-even-move-my-big-toe-today feeling.”
I’ve now decided after reading again and again the words drawn from the deepest places where we all live that we must share these feelings. If we don’t count them as important as the joy that we also are so fortunate to encounter why are we even here–to have smiley faces on all the time and never experience the alchemy we know in burning down the dark metal of our souls to get to the golden light each of us share inside?
When I read these words each of you write, I see both light and shadow dancing on the page. And I see even one greater, huger, wider, funner more beautifuller thing–unconditional love. How many places are there where we can find it, revel in it, know we’ll be accepted no matter what the alchemist is working with that day? I am honored to know each of you through your words.
Reading them is akin to looking in my simple white kitchen cabinet each morning to decide which coffee mug I want to use–they are all so lovely–the one with pink and yellow flowers, the handmade ones I got on my solo retreats to the mountains, the gigantic cream-colored one my daughter gave me this Christmas that assures I won’t have to go back for seconds, the light blue one from Starbucks splashed with white snowflakes. The beauty in the differences in all of those mugs reminds me of the beauty of what I read when you are so willing to open your heart on this page. I am forever changed by your words.
Thank you all. May 2008 bring us together with many words, many fuschia dreams, many gentle strokes of our sweet pet, or even lover. May the cupboard offer choices of mugs so rare and unique to only you that you will spend the year reveling in the joy of selection!!!
Karen
p.s. To Maureen, we must be kindred spirits as when I read your post (and I’m sorry I’ve been away a bit and not responded earlier) that spoke about our similar feelings, I had a resonance within–kindred spirit. There is also strength in being able to be alone. After reading the demands of your day, I do not wonder at all why you feel that gap within and without. Thank YOU for your words of support to me, as I feel them even at this moment. I return that love and support to you as you travel this 2008 road in its light and dark spaces. You are not alone. ks
24 Gwen Jan 10, 2008
Dear Jen,
I just checked in with your blog, and I am so shocked, I hardly know what to say. I am glad that you had the gift of the time in Mexico, and that you are facing all of these challenges so open-heartedly. It really amazes me that you can be so raw with all of us.
My heart goes out to you, with love,
Gwen
25 Meenakshi Jan 10, 2008
Dear Jen,
I’ve been a silent member of your circle for many months now – your Daily Dollop, Self-care minder and blog have been beakons of thoughtfulness in my life as has Comfort Queen. Reading your post and the responses to it gave me the momentum to finally post myself. This is something that I received as a fwd but seems to express so well what I want to say -
THIS SAYS IT ALL:
Time passes.
Life happens.
Distance separates.
Children grow up.
Jobs come and go.
Love waxes and wanes.
Men don’t do what they’re supposed to do.
Hearts break.
Parents die.
Colleagues forget favors.
Careers end.
BUT………
Sisters are there,
no matter how much time and how
many miles are between you.
A girl friend is never farther away
than needing her can reach.
When you have to walk that lonesome valley and you
have to walk it by yourself, the women in your life
will be on the valley’s rim, cheering you on,
praying for you, pulling for you, intervening on
your behalf, and waiting with open arms at the
valley’s end.
Sometimes, they will even break the rules and walk
beside you…Or come in and carry you out.
Girlfriends, daughters, granddaughters,
daughters-in-law, sisters, sisters-in-law, Mothers,
Grandmothers, aunties, nieces, cousins, and extended
family, all bless our life!
The world wouldn’t be the same without women, and
neither would I. When we began this adventure called
womanhood, we had no idea of the incredible joys or
sorrows that lay ahead. Nor did we know how much we
would need each other.
Every day, we need each other still.
26 Irene Jan 11, 2008
Shocked, yes. But expecting it, really. Stand still and pray. Love you.
27 leftyscribbler Mar 5, 2008
AHA this is a sisterhood. My storybook marriage ended this year as well and I just haven’t been able to get my footing.
In his case it wasn’t health programs — or certainly nothing like cancer — but that he had decided he really needed to be with the woman he began a relationship with while I was on a writing assignment he sent me on.
In the middle of the night we sisters have few options so I would up with the overbearing parents, but fortunately since we’re all in the same industry it meant an instant job.
When I made the cell phone call to say I needed to stay the night with them while I sorting things out, my dad said can you knock out a couple of writing projects for me before you committ to anything.
So, truly, one door never closes without another opening.
I’ve already moved ahead of him in the pecking order for our line of work, the new woman is already thrown up her hands and left, and I’ve found a voice to advocated for neglected children and battered wives.
I just don’t have the courage to date. I’ve had offers, but I couldn’t shake the feeling: why don’t we just cut to the chase, you can throw me to the floor, pin my shoulders and slap my face a few times until you cause eye damage.
We can all organize our life.