Creative Listening: Spiritual Direction
I want to listen with you to all the places within that need compassionate softening, to allow for more ease, creativity, and freedom in your life.
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I have always loved the description of Spiritual Direction as a three-way conversation between director, directee and the Spirit.
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I will deeply listen to you and with you as we each seek to hear, feel and see the Holy Spirit's invitations.
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I bring years of my inner own work and active commitment to continuing that work.
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I have foundational trust that you already have everything you need within you for your own healing. Our time together is towards what might be ready for shift and transform to allow more thriving.
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I bring the woven threads of training in Somatic Internal Family Systems Therapy, Poetry/Theopoetics and Contemplative Spiritual practices.
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I find home and good news within the Christian story, which I find to be expansive. I am open to working with you in whatever story is yours.
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I seek to create a listening haven filled with permission, beauty, safety, honesty and ease.
$50 per session, sliding scale available upon request.
No charge for the first session.
Via Zoom or in-person, I live in Cape Elizabeth Maine.
Your Self Will Never Tell You That You Are Broken
I have been going back to old memories.
An inner sorting of the attic.
A box of report cards and art projects, pages curling
and yellowed by time. Yearbooks and doll clothes.
A friendship that held conditions and little give, a moment
with my mother, her mirror and generations of women.
The series of conversations when my throat closed, that night
I gazed at the moon and knew, the many times I knew
and said nothing.
These moments stiffened and persevered
in the resin of fear and shame, covered in cobwebs and grime.
As I find each memory I hold it in my hands
and gently blow dust off the 5 year-old, the 7th grader,
25 year-old. I caress their tear-streaked faces.
As they soften they want to sit at this desk with me.
To be in a moment that never says anything is wrong.
To look as the poet looks, beyond the meadow to the pines, beyond
that to the thick of blueberries and the stonewall, beyond
the peeling birch, the creek, the bear den. Beyond
even the ripe wordless sea.
