Spiritual Autobiography

How good mistakes, disappointments, questions, and blessings can shape a life

Growing up I was a rule follower so I fit right into the Episcopal Church. There were plenty of forms and procedures to follow. I dove in: Sunday school; confirmation class learning the Nicene creed and the Commandments. I sang in the choir and joined the teenage group. Then I was shocked when, after all my involvement, I was overlooked when the next leaders were selected. Little did I know that this was a gift.

The next summer I joined the Young Life trip to their ranch in Colorado, which led to my adolescent spiritual experience of accepting Jesus as my personal savior. I left the Episcopal Church and became completely involved in Young Life, Black Rock Teenagers and Black Rock Congregational Church. That took over my life. There were Young Life meetings on weeknights and Black Rock Teenagers on Saturday night. Friday night we got together for fun activities. Then there were lots of Bible study, prayer groups, raising money for camps, and singing. It was completely engrossing. And it was fun.

Married years

In Black Rock teenagers and Young Life I met Tony Jordhamo. He was sort of a star there, a person with a colorful "salvation" story. We started a little joke that we would get married after college, and eventually we did. It was kind of a mistake, but a really good one. I had the illusion that we were well matched because we were both born again Christians. We would do Bible study and pray together. Not so. We did none of that. We had totally different cultural backgrounds. We were involved in an Evangelical church, more me than Tony. I sang in the choir, taught Sunday school, wrote a newsletter, and worked in the church bookstore, Eventually our differences led to a separation and divorce. That’s when the church eliminated me. Yes I, had stopped my involvement and even attending. But they struck me from their rolls without even a phone call! Again, they did me a favor.

Philadelphia

My children and I moved to Philadelphia to be part of Movement for a New Society (MNS), an intentional community started by radical Quakers. I had left structured religion behind and was living my values in MNS, living in a cooperative household, and diving into the community creed of “The personal is the political.“

While there I was introduced to the work of Starhawk and Wicca. For about two years I gathered with a small group of women, and we practiced rituals centered around nature and the phases of the moon. This was a whole new world, and I loved it. I had never thought of living in harmony with the moon or  the earth. I remember a full moon ritual we did on the roof of the house where I lived (tt was flat). We addressed the expectation that we should be celebrating positive fullness. Some of us were full of despair or discouragement. Slowly we realized that fullness could be any kind. We could honor whatever our fullness was. I had only experienced rituals in Catholic churches. What we were practicing was completely different! We were on roofs, in rooms, outside. The writings of Starhawk guided us in creating our rituals. The group eventually drifted apart, but what I learned stayed with me.

The Creative Process

My next spiritual involvement was with the creative process. My mom taught me to sew. I had moved that into making appliquéd banners for special occasions. One day I saw a picture of scarves made to look like people. So I made one, a guy, and wore him to an office party. I called him my plus one. A woman with connections to the craft world saw it and connected me to the Head House Summer Weekend Craft Fair in Philadelphia. Wow! Open door! New world!! I made myself a booth and I was off and running. I started with more people scarves, called "Friends I Have Made," then added wall hangings and handbags with "purse-a-nalities." Almost every one had a title. For example, one had a 3-D sculptured handle and was called "Get a grip, the hand bag for tricky social experiences.“

What a trip. I eventually quit my full-time job and moved to a part-time job typesetting for Friends Journal, a Quaker magazine. Another spiritual journey.

But more about the creative process. I owned a three-story Victorian twin. I put skylights in the top front room and had myself a perfect studio. I could not believe the work I came up with. It was so surprising. It was like the creative process managed the room and I was just the physical facilitator moving around the pieces of fabric and providing the sewing skills. It was definitely a practice in living one step at a time, an intense spiritual experience.  No idea ever finished up looking as I had originally planned. The work had a life of its own.

As the facilitator I discovered that I was no longer just a rational, tight, but clever seamstress. Deep inside lived a colorful Mexican woman with a pinata mentality. She was sending up fabulous next steps.

More about creativity. People would stop by my booth of creations and say, “Oh you are so creative.“ And I would say, "We all are. Where is your area of love and attention? That is your creative area. I work at this all the time.“ And it really was all the time. I saw reruns of Northern Exposure, which were at about 2 am. My little black and white TV kept me company as I worked into the wee hours.

The craft fair world gave me another gift. At the Head House fair people might walk by my booth and love it or just walk by. Then they would walk by the booth across from me and not care or love it. It didn’t matter, I was the star of my booth! And so was the man across from me! I had never before felt like a star of anything or a star at all. Never. It was delightful! And aren't we all the stars of our own lives? It took the creative process for that experience to make itself at home in me. Being involved in the creative process is a relationship that heals. I am proof.

Artist Conference Network 

I was still making my art and working the craft fair circuit when I found my next community, the Artist Conference Network (ACN). A woman named Beverly Cassell designed a program to be used by groups for coaching of the creative process. I resisted joining for a couple of years, but the solitude of the creative life led me to join. This was a group of folks who were artists in many disciplines: writers, painters, potters, a cartoonist, and now me, a fabric crafts person. We started each year with a training weekend where we were introduced, or re-introduced, to the discipline: ways of talking about our work and the work of others, creating a vision, goal setting, and coaching each other. No criticism or judgments allowed, especially about your own work. And always ending with acknowledgments. This was not a Pollyanna session. It was a way to focus on vision and intention, bringing to light negative beliefs and creating replacements for them. We met as a group every few weeks, where we could share our work and check in on our goals. We also each had a partner with whom we coached during the week. We had a list of coaching questions to follow. 

Since much creative work is very isolating, being in a group of people focusing on their creativity was bonding. We became a caring community. We attended each other's shows and events. Some of us even tried on each other’s disciplines. I remember reciting something I had written while I played a rain stick. We also participated as a group in a few Fringe Festivals. We learned to be encouraging in a positive way and to accept encouragement, because there was a disciplined way of expressing it based on acknowledgments. We saw each other's work grow and develop. I stayed involved for years even after I stopped being a craftsperson. ACN was so effective that its methods have shown up frequently in other areas of my life.        

Matthew Fox

My dad passed away and left us some money. I found a financial advisor to help me learn how to take care of my share. I figured this would be my retirement. But the advisor asked, "Isn't there something you would love to do if you only had the money?" Wow! A good question can change your life. And this is how:

At one craft show I did, I was booth neighbors with a woman who was very easy to talk with. I must’ve been sharing some of my negative perceptions and expectations (I have a long history of negativity). Anyway she said I should definitely read Matthew Fox's Original Blessing, especially the section called "Via Negativa." I did, and I found myself there and read the rest of the book. I couldn’t believe I had lived that long without that book. So when the advisor asked me if there was anything I always wanted to do, Matthew Fox's name came up. He had a school in Oakland, California called the University of Creation Spirituality (UCS). You could actually get a Master’s degree there from Naropa University. I went. The degree was in liberal arts so it wasn’t exactly a moneymaker. But it was definitely a person maker. We did lots of art—for meditation, process, and community building. I also took classes in sacred cinema, learning how to make digital documentaries using the power of story.

And we did rituals for everything. It didn’t hurt that I shared a house with three other people on Alameda Island and could actually walk to the beach, where I did prayer rituals with sticks, sand, and shells. We also learned how to put on a techno cosmic mass, something Matthew Fox invented and held monthly in Oakland. It was quite a year. I am still grateful for how it enriched and expanded my life in directions I could not have imagined. And so grateful for that financial advisor.

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