Good morning from my blue chair,
Big shifts are happening in the world. The question I’ve been working with this year is: What is mine to do? Maintaining a sense of coherence has been one of my guiding stars, another is to be playful and fierce.
What is arising in my heart/mind now is: how can we learn to move beyond the winners-and-losers paradigm and work together to evolve this great experiment we call democracy? Yup, big questions percolate as I revel in the carpet of maple and oak leaves on the trails that I walk, and marvel at how the beech trees hold on to their leaves all winter. And the light — The angle of the light is so beautiful and poignant as the year wanes. So, here I am to share my annual November reflective writing practice with you again . . .
This November practice invites you to reflect carefully on the year through the lens of Beauty, Truth, and Goodness. This year, I thought I’d share the inspiration for my obsession with Beauty, Truth and Goodness.
There is a particular passage in Jean-Yves Leloup's translation of the Gospel of Mary Magdalene that has served as a beacon for me ever since I read it when it was first published in 2002. It concerns the interplay of beauty, truth, and goodness. In her Gospel, Magdalene offers us three questions to ponder using her characteristic call and response:
What does goodness become when separated from light, consciousness, and truth? A softness that is the gateway to hypocrisy and compromise.
What does truth become when separated from goodness, love, and beauty? A hardness that is the gateway to fanaticism and persecution.
What does beauty become when separated from truth and goodness? Art for art’s sake, an aestheticism that is the gateway to a brilliance that clarifies nothing.
Working these questions, holding these polarities, is gritty and full of grace. It has become an essential activity for me as I thresh out and follow the call of my golden thread of longing.
And here is the practice:
For those of you who have dropped into this practice in years past, you will see that I’ve kept it the same, confident that these questions will always bring a fresh response as we look back over the past year to find the Beauty, Truth and Goodness that is there.
Carve out some time to reflect on the last year in your journal. (Pulling out your calendar to jog your memory might be helpful.) With pen in hand or fingers on your keyboard, soften your gaze as you scan back over the past year and respond to the prompts below. You can do this for the year in one sweep or take each season as I suggest below. The invitation here is to be responding to these prompts four times, beginning with the winter a year ago. (Could take you as long as an hour or so to complete . . . ) Significant milestones or intimate moments in your answers are all appropriate. I think you will find that specificity gives wonderful depth to the process.
For each of the seasons, Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall:
Describe a time that you experienced beauty.
In what way(s) were you the cause of something beautiful?
In what way(s) was a hard truth revealed to you?
In what way(s) did you reveal or speak a hard truth?
In what way(s) was a beautiful truth revealed to you?
In what way(s) did you reveal or speak a beautiful truth?
In what way(s) were you on the receiving end of goodness?
In what way(s) were you the cause of goodness?
Upon completion, give yourself a little time to let your responses settle in you. Take a walk or a bath, if you can, and take in the beauty, truth and goodness that you found when you put pen to page. Stay with the hard truth that may have surfaced and seek support from wise loved ones if you feel the need. You might want to capture some further reflections before moving into the fullness of your day or evening.
I’ll be posting my annual year end practice in December, which will give you an opportunity to look ahead and consider any reorientation, renewed commitments, or actions that all of this may inspire in you.
May we all find our way to contribute. May we all wage peace . . .
Warmly, Lyedie
photo credit: Elizabeth Ungerleider