Adventuring and nesting. Two of my most favorite things in life. I especially love when these two passions find balance together.
Like when I worked in a Native American community in North Dakota and lived in a log cabin in the woods with no running water or telephone. Cell phones at that time were mostly huge brick phones and there wasn’t cell reception in that northern remote area. Every week, I hauled my water to the cabin in 10 gallon orange Igloo containers. And yes, I had an outhouse for a bathroom. It was a life changing experience as I loved being in that community and living in that small rustic cabin.
There was also the winter I lived in a double wide trailer next to an elk refuge in Alpine, WY…just a 30 minute drive from Jackson Hole. It was my first winter in that area, and full-time work was not easy to secure. That was the winter I came into my faith. Many hours of my spare time were spent sitting at a humble dining table in front of a big window that looked out at hundreds of elk wintering in the valley. I would drink cup after cup of coffee, read scripture and ask God lots of questions. I first fell in love with God sitting at that table in the double wide trailer next to the elk refuge.
And then there was the 500 sq. ft. apartment in Pasadena I lived in while I went to seminary and started working at Bel Air Presbyterian Church. For six years I lived in that tiny place on Orange Grove Blvd, surrounded by OG Cripps and Villa Boys. It was in that brightly painted apartment furnished with thrift store finds that I embraced my calling to help people experience the love of God.
Most recently was the 290 sq. ft. Parisian studio apartment on the 6th floor (no elevator) in the Saint-Germain-des-Prés neighborhood. Around the corner from my place was where the Treaty of Paris was signed. At the other corner of my block was the oldest church in Paris. Within that centuries old studio apartment, I began daring to believe real life can resemble the dreams that have burned in my heart for decades. And filled with wonder, I considered that those dreams were more than fanciful thoughts but were navigational points guiding me to a life I could best live.
There have been bigger and more conventional homes I’ve lived in between these adventures. But these particular nesting places were major turning moments in my life.
When Covid-19 shut down most of the world, I was in Omaha staying with family as I sought a working visa for France. So I’m still in Omaha. Sheltering-in-place. There is so much for me to be grateful for, and believe me I am. But I’m no different than most of the world in saying it is hard. I have to stay put. No adventuring around Omaha let alone the world. I’m staying in someone else’s home. Sleeping in a guest room and using a card table in a basement as a makeshift desk. It is not my space to nest in. Most of my artwork, books and cooking stuff are tucked away in a Dino’s Storage unit. Most of my clothes are stored away in my boyfriend’s garage in Paris. With me now, I have a bit more than a dozen books and a week’s worth of clothes.
For these past couple of weeks, I’ve been thinking about the desert mothers and fathers of the 3rd and 4th century and how they lived in tiny cells (caves) and were sequestered from general society. They lived this way because they wanted to grow closer to God in love, wisdom, and humility. An asceticism that seems unreal to our 21st century lifestyle in a global community. While I am ever so grateful for the Stearns & Foster mattress I sleep on for a comfy firmness rather than the sandy Egyptian ground those spiritual mothers and fathers slept on, there is still viable and relevant wisdom offered from their experiential living. I have felt my heart awaken to the spiritual guidance of Abba Moses telling me across the generations to go sit in my cell, and my cell will teach me everything.
I’ve also been thinking about the English mystic Julian of Norwich. She lived in the 14th and 15th centuries, during and immediately after The Black Death threat. Most of her life was lived in almost complete isolation, living in a small cell attached to a church. For a limited amount of time most days, she would offer spiritual wisdom, guidance and encouragement to people who gathered at the window of her cell. I wonder if the peasants gathered at her window felt encouraged by her words “all shall be well, all shall be well, and in all manner of things all shall be well” the way I have felt encouraged by similar words spoken by beloved mentors and friends through the windows of Zoom, Skype, FaceTime and WhatsApp?
Adventuring and nesting looks different for me these days. I’m heeding the call to stay within my cell and to find my way in trusting that all shall be well. The adventure I am on these days is more thoroughly learning and practicing how to take good care of myself. The nesting I am doing is mostly within my soul. I recognize that as I shelter-within-my-cell, these uncertain days feel just as dangerous and unknown to me as any of my physical adventures felt when I first experienced them.
Caring for my soul during Covid-19 will continue to take a good amount of energy just as trekking across mountain ranges or learning to live in a different culture. I find that my soul craves the kind of thoughtful nurture I gave to my living spaces when I lovingly curated and settled into them. Much of the energy and attentiveness I’ve spent on living my life outside of myself is now needed for me to live my life within myself.
I know there are moments that will feel exciting or cozy as I attend to my soul. There will be days that have a feeling of joyful balance, and I’ll think “Yeah! I’ve figured this out!” and do a fist pump. I know there will continue to be days that also feel unhinged, when there may be too many handfuls of peanut M&Ms or the wine glass may seem to be part of a bottomless happy hour special. Whatever range of emotion or self-discipline I find myself in though, I pray I will not give up on the desire of caring for my soul.
I’ve been assembling a collection of spiritual exercises to help me. Some of these exercises are of my own soulful imagination, some are exercises created and shared by other people, and some are a hybrid of “theirs” and mine. I’d love to share many of them with you, and so weekend I will post one that has been especially helpful for me this past week.
Take good care of yourself, friend.
My little kitchen table in Saint-Germain-des-Pres
My “shelter-within-my-cell” desk during Covid-19