the two majesties

the year was 1982 and i was a junior in high school on a field trip to the milwaukee art museum. growing up a country girl in a very upscale vacation destination i had not been raised in a cultured atmosphere. my theology and spiritual experience was stripped of any beauty or design and worship for me took place in a white square box with avocado green carpet and dusty gold upholstered pews. for someone who receives information visually this failed to engage the deep recesses of my soul.

i remembered the first time i ever felt those depths engaged - it was overlooking the shores of lake michigan in a room that was glassed in on each side, except for one - and it held this image. it is so real to me that there are tears running down my face as i reminisce like it was yesterday. the first time i was able to worship in a place of beauty with visual imagery.


i was so moved that i spent hard earned pennies on a post card of the image and it's little 4" x 6" beauty held prominence in my room and eventually my dorm. it was all i could afford, but although tiny, it was a window back to that place where it happened. proof that god was far bigger than the walls of that small little white box called "church".

i recently found this postcard in my old creative memories scrapbook that i used to pitch my wares. it has two little thumb tack holes and the back shows evidence of the scotch tape i used many times to move it from place to place as my residence changed.

i have searched for this card and searched online for this image. i googled it and could never find the artist or any information on it. it is called "the two majesties" was painted by jean-leon gerome in 1883. it measures 27 1/4" x 50" - but in my memory it was giant sized. i guess it was just the room. i have done some research on the room, trying to see if my memory of it was enhanced by time also. it was not.

here is the information from the MAM website:

The 1950s & Eero Saarinen Building

Eero Saarinen Building Famed Finnish architect Eero Saarinen (popularly known for his St. Louis Arch) designed the building,with Maynard Meyer of Milwaukee as associate architect. Saarinen's unique design for a floating cruciform with cantilevered portions created excitement in the community, and is now considered a classic in the development of modern architecture.

nice to know that at least part of my memory wasn't super-sized too. i remembered that i was ditched by my friends, or maybe i wanted to be alone. the chattering and giggling was probably interrupting the serenity i felt at such holiness. most of the displays that lead up to this room were very modern and cheeky, i enjoyed them and their commentary that resonated with my teen-age angst. as i mentioned before my art teacher was a chauvinistic taxidermist and he only painted water colors of old barns and underwater fish and expected us to do the same. blair says he sounds like a character out of a stephen king novel. i liked that. he was.

so this trip not only spoiled his tight control on my art, but it foiled years of indoctrination into the tight walls of my religion.

i remember being drawn to the view - the windows pulling me out to the cantilevered space - it was only when i turned around that i even saw the painting. i think it was supposed to happen that way. i know when i saw it i gasped. here was the aslan of my young memories, engaging with the beauty of the sea. i know the artist had no knowledge of c.s. lewis and the land of narnia, but the refuge of the story i had found myself in only allowed for the allegory to be that much more rich and right.

i lost track of time sitting there on the small bench set up for the weak in the knees like me. i wish i had the kind of teacher who would have sent us with sketch books or at least journals as i would love to know what my young mind would have recorded. all i have are my memories and my post card. and the echoes of my soul. it cracked open that day. and nothing could stop it. and for far too many years nothing could fill it.

so little has lived up to it's spiritual promise for me, but every so often something rings deep in those echoes, in the immense cavern of my soul and i remember.

the singing bowl

hope commented on the family altar post and asked about the bowl in the picture above. it is a 'singing bowl' from nepal. liam brought it back with him when he was there a couple of years ago. it is made to ring like a bell when struck, or can be 'played' by ringing the lip of the bowl with the wooden puja (stick).

it plays different roles on the altar, the first being to remind me that we have much to learn from other cultures about centering and prayer. i think much has been lost to the church in healthy forms of silence and meditation. also, as a woman raised in farmland, white-bread, middle america i constantly want to remind myself that the world is far bigger than my own experience and i have much to learn from other cultures and peoples.

i also use it to break the silence after prayer. i am finding much life in engaging all of my senses in worship and this allows me to hear my prayers in a way i had not experienced before.

another important part of our altar is that all of the elements are represented. sometimes the bowl holds water and floats a blossom. right now it is holding ashes from a guided practice of writing down a fear and burning it. it was during the late winter when jobs were no where to be found and we were feeling the pull of 'what have we done moving here!'. those ashes are the ones used in the utmost desperation felt in the pain of that season and i angrily smeared them on my face, rending my shirt and crying out to god, begging to not be forgotten. they are a reminder that we weren't. (wow that took me back to that time instantly and the depth of emotion is seen trickling down my face even now.)



when the water is not there we have the fish liam drew on the rock while at dawsonwood cottage in the hospitable care of connie's husband rob while we healed from another dry season.

as i stated in the previous post, each item here is a sacred reminder to me of our path, where we came from and where we are headed. so, while a bit cluttered and un-simple it is all so treasured and vital for now.

alone at last!

today is the first day i have been alone and quiet enough to sit in silence, light a candle and journal my thoughts. it is a good thing.

i hit my threshold yesterday. you know that imaginary mark you place on a calendar or in your mind that says "i can make it until HERE", "if i can just hold out until IT'S over", "only THREE MORE DAYS until they're gone"? i had been holding out 'the first day of school' as that threshold, and none of it was spent alone, in quiet or taking deep breaths. by supper time i was pretty stressed out.

i awoke this morning around 6:00 and laid in bed thinking through some inconsistencies i had been unable to put my finger on. the clarity was beautiful. so much so that i didn't want to loose the thoughts and headed for the computer. i realized on my way though that if i opened up the internet i would get lost (as would my clarity) in the looking glass this computer is for me far too many times.

so i did what i haven't done in months. i picked up a pen, grabbed my fresh, new journal and wrote three pages of thoughts on the ah-ha's i had this morning. oh how i have missed that medium. the horror of missing things (or getting old and not remembering that you are missing things?) is that the imprint it leaves on our lives disappears so very quickly that we forget how important it is.

writing by hand engages different parts of my brain that writing on the computer. it's actually why i still use lower case letters. because i spent so many years typing for the institutions in my life that i become a different person when i must punctuate and capitalize. it engages a part of my brain that is thwarted far too often by my frustrated perfectionist. so lower case slides right by him somehow. (and yes, he is a man, i don't know why - but he is...)

anyway, back to the real purpose of this post. after everyone left i grabbed my guide (the cup of life, joyce rupp, that is taking me FAR TOO LONG to move through) and my own 'cup of life', and the sparker to light my candles on my altar. downsizing here at the flat meant that the table altar we had at our last home didn't fit here and it gave me a lot of frustration trying to find a space where it could nest.

another frustration here at the flat is a monolith of a brick fireplace - when the roof was replaced on the house they didn't fix the chimneys and the three fireplaces are now just monoliths instead of useful, warm additions to our space (the lower apartment has 2, we only have 1). it was uncared for by previous tenants and needed some love. we used stove paint to clean up the interior bricks and then it just looked like a black hole in the room. ideally we would have candelabras and lovely pillar candles to fill it with - they just didn't fit into the budget. so in a brush of impulsiveness i decided to marry the two decorating dilemmas i was having and put the altar in the fireplace. i blogged about my deep desire for a sacred space within my home way back in october 2004.

ta-da.

it's not really what i would have chosen in my 'perfect decorating world' but it works for now. i really want to paint a wrapped canvas with a fire element art piece, but that will have to wait for those cold winter nights. until then this is where i light my candles and pray for you.

as i sat there on my knees i thought how busy it looked and thought that simplifying it might help. then realized how each piece on the altar was significant to me and i thought i'd give you a tour.

this is my inukshuk. i know they are 'supposed' to have legs. i tried and tried to balance the rocks we found (each member of the family or tribe gathers the rocks for the inukshucks and all are important and used). he kept falling over. over and over. to the point where i was going to start over, scatter the rocks and we'd all find new ones on another trip to the shore. then i realized that he wasn't a he, he was a she. she is me. i am here. life is found here. community is found here. sustenance is found here.

this birdcage is a gift from my family. it was one of my most favorite christmas presents. you see i needed a bird for my empty birdcage i posted about here.

and this is getting far to long of a tour and a blog post, so i will leave you with this, pink drew it for me years ago and it's of her and i celebrating together: