Ria Sharon

Since my last post, in which I was kicking and screaming and moaning, I’m pleased to report that now… I am not. I’m finding a certain exquisite beauty in the dark.

I avoid painting at night.

In the dark, the colors inadvertently get muddy, the contrast gets all flattened out, making it difficult to tell where one thing ends and another begins.

But for this piece, I watched the sun set beyond the trees at the seminary down the street, it’s last rays momentarily blinding me with their grasping light through the western studio windows. I decided to keep on.

I was struggling with it anyway, wrestling with the forms that I so wanted to keep in the dark: fear, doubt, worry, danger… all the “UN” words… UNworthiness, UNloved — the exact opposites of my dreams and desires. But is it really so binary? Black and white? Shadow and light? Inside and outside?

One of the very first exercises I was given in my freshman drawing class was the relationship between positive and negative spaces; the rendering of one defining the other. Is it the same with worry and ease, unworthiness and worthiness, doubt and certainty? It seems rather obvious and simple but truly… what is one without the other? What would happen to my experience of ease if every one of my days were spent sipping mai tais by the pool?

It’s a common exercise in the self-development circles these days, to clearly delineate between what you want and don’t want. To know. To be certain what’s inside and what’s outside of your boundaries. That was my intention when I started this mini-project and shared it with you. But what do I inadvertently lose when I put up a hard edge against perceived danger? And is there something I gain from embracing it all? When the contrast gets all flattened out… all of it begins to seem like part of one big thing.

Waaaaah! Say it ain’t so!!!

I’ve been struggling so much lately with acceptance — accepting that what I want to run from could turn out to be a blessing. And that trying to sift out what I want from what I don’t want could be a form of trickery and manipulation on my part. That in fact, there is no form not shaped by it’s shadow.

It all starts looks the same in the dark.

I read this quote from Janet Connor: “To feel really safe, you must first step out into the unknown, experience fear, and discover all is well.”

Belonging.
Ease.
Safety.
Love.
Peace.
Security.
Worthiness.

These are the words I hear again and again, the things so many of us hunger for. As I glued down each word, it occurred to me that these essential feelings that I hunger for and that you hunger for are the exact same things that drive us forward. Belonging and Love and Worthiness are the kinds of deep longings that compel us to push off from Where We Are to Where We Want to Be.

Tell me if this is true for you.

I know that Safety and Belonging sent me on a journey across the globe in search of a different life and family. The draw of Ease and Security weighed heavily in my choice to marry and whom to marry.

And Worthiness? This one gnaws at me still. It colors my work, my relationships, even what books I read. 😀

But… the power we have when we can name our hunger! I felt my heartbeat quicken at the thought of putting them on the plate, in plain sight.

I invite you to muse with me… imagine what it would be like to taste Ease and Peace and Love.

What would that nourishment feel like? What parts of you would come alive when your particular hunger is abated?

This is not
the age of information.

This is not
the age of information.

Forget the news,
and the radio,
and the blurred screen.

This is the time
of loaves 
and fishes.

People are hungry
and one good word is bread
for a thousand.

  — David Whyte
      from The House of Belonging
      ©1996 Many Rivers Press

I first heard this poem read out loud at Kimberly and Mary Lou Schneider’s Poetry as A Spiritual Practice retreat. I think that part of my soul that hungered began to stir. You know, like tuning forks — the way they begin to vibrate at the same frequency even across a room. With my eyes closed and actually hearing those words spoken out loud, I began to understand that we all hunger for something, even in this age of everything-you-could-possibly-want-on-Amazon!
And, that it’s okay to name my hunger, to need…
sweetness
and comfort
and security
— the flavors of a childhood memory;

the taste and texture of the fresh juicy mango that waits for me on a plate after my afternoon siesta.

What do you hunger for?

Today, I give you permission to taste it and feel it… and want it. And if you need someone to hold it for you, write it to me at (help)@hopefulworld.org and I can add it to the plate.

Just like loaves and fishes… when our words come together, we feed thousands.