There are many things we can do to #InvestinthePlanet, which is this year’s Earth Day theme. And…I believe that doing is only part of the solution. Being is as important. Eco-spirituality and nature as a spiritual practice invites us into a state of being where we remember that we are nature. We don’t live on the land, we live with it. Spirituality and nature are not separate. We can be in direct relationship with the land, waters, and creatures with whom we share our homes. When we do, we experience Spirit firsthand. We fall in love with nature. And people always defend what they love.

We practice this every Monday and Wednesday with Online Guided Nature Meditations. You are always welcome!

If you want to work individually to develop this eco-spirituality, consider Returning to Your Roots.

And if you live in the Denver area, I invite you to gather in person for “Wild Church Denver” — ritual, embodied nature meditations, conversation and community — all outdoors in the wild and part of the Wild Church Network.
More details and RSVP are here.

Fast forward 53 years for Pete. His love for the planet has only grown deeper. He leads the Certificate in Corporate Social Responsibility for the University of Colorado, and in the Fall will be teaching CU’s Climate Action for Business for executive leaders. Most of all, he lives each day knowing that he is nature.

Many blessings on this holy day.

Earth Day and Wild Church was originally published in Kelly Dignan www.kellydignan.com on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

A sermon written and delivered for Castle Rock UU Community April 17, 2022. It is a sermon about Easter.

I write for the ear to hear, not the eye to read! So pardon spacing and short sentences. Also, citations are not formal but included.

Reading — Rolling Away the Stone by Rev. Sara Moores Campbell (#628 in Singing the Living Tradition):

In the tomb of the soul, we carry secret yearnings, pains, frustrations, loneliness, fears, regrets, worries.

In the tomb of the soul, we take refuge from the world and its heaviness.

In the tomb of the soul, we wrap ourselves in the security of darkness.

Sometimes this is a comfort. Sometimes it is an escape.

Sometimes it prepares us for experience. Sometimes it insulates us from life.

Sometimes this tomb-life gives us time to feel the pain of the world and reach out to heal others.

Sometimes it numbs us and locks us up with our own concerns.

In this season where light and dark balance the day, we seek balance for ourselves.

Grateful for the darkness that has nourished us, we push away the stone and invite the light to awaken us to the possibilities within us and among us — possibilities for new life in ourselves and in our world.

Let us ponder these words and our lives in the next few moments of silence.

Sermon

The sun has not come up yet, and the air is chilly. It’s going to be a beautiful spring day. But Mary Magdalene isn’t concerned about the weather. She hasn’t slept. She can’t eat. She has a pit in her stomach. Her mouth is dry. Her head aches from crying.

Mary from Magdala hasn’t had the easiest life. For years, she has been ridiculed by people, told she’s a bad person. She’s been labeled a prostitute, a whore. People have raised their eyebrows at her. She has lived in shame. But recently, things have started to look up for her.

A charismatic but humble man has come into her life. He defends her in front of large crowds. He believes in her, and for the first time, she feels her inherent worth. He also stands up for others who are oppressed by the systems and powers that be. He stands up for those who have been labeled as sick, lame, disabled, poor, unemployable, beggars; people who have been designated as slaves, peasants, foreigners, illiterate. He chooses to be with all these people. He chooses to put them and their dignity first, rather than the label they’ve been assigned by society. He chooses to cross the line from his middle class upbringing to companion them.

Then he enters into their struggles with the civil and religious authorities. And those authorities don’t like him one bit. He and his friends have become targets of the government. As risky as it has been to hang out with this guy and his friends, Mary has.

Jesus has been telling them that they need to build a community based on love. He’s been saying things like, “I love you, and I give you a new commandment — that just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” (John 13:34–35). They’ve been listening to him, and their community has grown close.

But this morning — this spring, brisk morning — all of them are feeling awful because Jesus has been killed. Mary can’t muster the energy to bathe. She’s not sure how she’ll get through the day. All she can do is drag herself to where he’s been buried, the tomb. She gets there, but the stone has been rolled back. He’s gone.

And then, he appears to her and talks to her. Mary takes a deep breath, her stomach settles, and she feels peace. She knows his love has not been killed.

She feels it and knows it will endure — it will not end. The resurrection may have happened TO Jesus, but it has happened IN Mary Magdalene. She pushes away the stone of her own soul and invites the light to awaken her to the possibilities within her and among her people — possibilities of hope, wholeness in herself and in the world. Just like in our reading earlier.

This is the Christian story of Easter which I’ve adapted from the Gospel of John. Many UUs feel a bit suspicious about the Western cultural view of this day. We are more than suspicious about a man dying and coming back to life. It does not make sense to us scientifically. And we reject that the sacrifice of Jesus Christ is the only way that we will be saved from going to some fiery, agonizing hell after we die. But Unitarians and Universalists have been redefining and reframing the meaning of Easter for a long time.

Early Unitarians in Europe in the 1500s rallied against the doctrine of original sin and emphasized the potential for goodness in all humans. The sacrifice of Jesus was not necessary for happiness and holiness, but his life was an important example for how we can behave.

And in 1805, Universalist Hosea Ballou wrote A Treatise on Atonement. It was an argument against the Theory of the Atonement which was written in the twelfth century by Anselm. Anselm said that humans are saved only by the sacrifice of Jesus. But Hosea Ballou said that God did not kill his son in order to atone for sins. (Later scholars said that would be divine child abuse.) Ballou said Jesus came to demonstrate the power of God’s love. It doesn’t die. No love dying here. It is a love that is universal. A love that leads to hope, holiness and happiness; a love that is tolerance and open-mindedness; a love that produces peace.

There are various ways we can feel that love: in community, in nature, in ritual, meditation, any spiritual practice. When we receive that big love that never dies, then we can offer it. And when we do that, salvation can happen in this life. We can invite young teenagers to work in the barn and groom horses. We can companion couples getting divorced — without giving them advice. We can care for someone with cancer through their long and painful journey of illness. We can companion someone with Alzheimer’s or Dementia — day in and day out. We can parent loving children unconditionally when the work seems like it will never end. We can support organizations like Project C.U.R.E. and others doing great work in times of devastation.

When we soak up a big love, we can work for justice — just like Jesus did — in solidarity. Completely humble. Listening more than talking. Just being a presence of love.

Courageous love does not look like perfectionism or white savior complex. If you were here in January, you would have heard me talk about that. If we offer love out of guilt or to gain a feather in our cap, it can lead to paternalism where we think we can fix everything and treat others as if they need a parent.

Two weeks ago, I got to hear one of my favorite UU ministers preach live and in person. Rev. Victoria Safford gave the sermon at the Installation of Rev. David Schwartz as he enters into a covenant with the UU Church of Boulder (Sermon starts at about 24:30).

going to quote extensively here because her message was appropriate for an installation and is just as appropriate and relevant to Easter.

She said:

You work so hard to change the world, fix every broken thing through legislation, agitation, and still the world’s on fire, people dying, children crying. Everywhere you look the danger for Unitarian Universalists, the danger for us — mortal danger, like a mortal sin — is the belief that we can, in our lifetime, hard-work the trouble away, or reason the trouble away. The danger — when you give your whole heart, every drop of hope and sweat, and expect the world to change as a direct result — the danger is disappointment which can make you bitter over time, make a spirit weary, turn idealism into cynicism before you’re even old, make you feel you’ve failed.

She goes on:

Jesus said “the poor you’ll always have with you” and he didn’t mean ‘so don’t worry about them, you might as well get rich.’ He meant, I think…I think he meant greed and fear run deep in humans, so hard to root out, and thus inequity and war and oppression and poverty run rampant. So be about the work of hospitality, radical grace, and know that goodwill comes, laws will change, the arc will bend a little toward justice, but not all at once, and not in your lifetime.

Then she comes back to Jesus:

He meant, I think, as others since [him] have meant, give your life away, give it all away. Love with heart, mind, soul, and strength. And let go of your need for perfection — it is hubris to believe we can fix everything, control anything. Love anyway, shine anyway! Some things will shift, lives and souls will be saved, maybe starting with yours.

I wonder if that is what’s happening in Ukraine right now. While we are watching war and devastation, we are also hearing stories of people loving anyway. Shining anyway.

Here’s a story told by Russell Siler Jones who writes about integrating spirituality into psychotherapy.

A Ukrainian man, whom we will call Bohdan, works as a builder. His sister says “he has magic hands” and can “fix anything.” Furniture, electronics — anything that is broken, he can repair it. Bohdan and his family live in one of those cities in Ukraine that many of us had never heard of until a few weeks ago — one that is currently under siege. Ten days ago their apartment building was hit by shelling. He posted pictures of their damaged building on his public Facebook page, along with these words: “You can destroy the walls of our houses, but you can’t destroy our world, our spirit, our will.”

His wife’s parents live 40 kilometers away. The fighting near their home had become especially intense, and they decided it was time to evacuate. They have a car, but neither of them drives. The car belongs to their son, and he is away supporting the war effort. So Bohdan, who is a marathon runner, ran the 25 miles to his in-laws’ home. In the rain. Through areas where shelling was occurring. He drove them to a safer place — safer for now, anyway — and then returned to his apartment. The next day he went back to building and rebuilding.

The story is shared in Psychology Today not to glorify war or forget about other countries being ravaged by war right now: Ethiopia, Yemen, Afghanistan, and our neighbor Mexico, where over 10,000 people died last year in the drug war.

No, the story is told to remind us of the human capacity for love, courage, and resilience. It’s told to remind us that we can create little moments of salvation when we share that love, courage and resilience.

So be about the work of hospitality, radical grace, and know that goodwill comes. Love with heart, mind, soul, and strength. And when you haven’t slept or can’t eat. When you have a pit in your stomach or a headache from your own grief and struggle, remember that there is a love holding us — a love that never dies. Lean on it.

That will enable you to offer courageous love outwardly again. Not with your hard work or superb reason, but with your mere presence. Just letting someone lean on you.

Love. Shine. Lives and souls will be saved.

May it be so.

Courageous Love was originally published in Kelly Dignan www.kellydignan.com on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Love Knows No Borders

This is a sermon I wrote and then delivered to the Castle Rock UU Community on January 16, 2022. It is, among other things, about White Savior Complex and how it can creep into our work for justice.

I write for the ear to hear, not the eye to read! So pardon spacing and short sentences. Also, citations are not formal, but included.

Unitarian Universalists are into justice, aren’t they? Aren’t we? If you go to the UUA website right now, the home page features articles about: threats to democracy, reproductive justice, democracy can’t wait, defunding fear.

Dig a little deeper, and you’ll see that we are committed to: LGBTQ and gender justice, climate justice, racial justice, immigration justice, voter engagement.

At first blush, you might think our whole faith tradition is about politics. The President of the UUA, Susan Frederick-Gray, addresses this in a recent article in UU world Magazine. She says:

“There are those who mistakenly believe that justice is the heart of our faith as Unitarian Universalists. However, a theology of interdependence is the true heart of our faith, and our work for justice is our faithful response.”

A theology of interdependence.

She quotes The Rev. Dr. Mark Morrison-Reed who says: “The central task of the religious community is to unveil the bonds that bind each to all. There is a connectedness, a relationship discovered amid the particulars of our own lives and the lives of others. Once felt, it inspires us to act for justice.”

Connectedness comes first. Our work for justice is a response to that. That’s the thesis of this sermon. If you walk away and wonder what I said, it’s that.

Our faith is based in interconnection. That comes first. Our work for justice is a spiritual practice that helps us live our faith.

I invite you to pause for a minute. Notice what’s happening for you as I share about the UUA, our theology, this thesis.

What emotions are you experiencing — relief, resistance, anger, fear, pain, joy, shame, contentment, guilt, confusion, etc. If you can, notice how your body is responding to this message so far. You can jot a few notes if you’d like. Or just notice.

We’re going to do this several times throughout our time together, and I’ll explain more about the thinking behind it in a minute.

In that same article, Susan Frederick-Gray goes back into history and shows, in a succinct way, that our theology of interconnection comes mostly from our Universalist ancestors. Their focus was on relationships — with each other and God. The belief in universal salvation meant that no one was ever cast outside of God’s love. The goal wasn’t perfectionism of the individual, but rather to unveil the grace and mutuality already present.

Then she does some truth telling about Unitarianism. Shaped by the Enlightenment, Unitarians emphasized the inherent goodness, virtue, and value of the individual. William Ellery Channing wrote about perfectibility — that people could become like God, and that society could become perfect, too. Salvation was attainable, but virtue and character were the pathway.

Of course, we know that perfectionism can get pretty rough. It leaves little room for struggle, failure, the reality of how we hurt each other, and legacies of harm. It also fosters a culture of paternalism where we think we can fix everything and treat others as if they need a parent. Susan warns us against this in general, and especially in our work for justice. And boy do I need the reminder.

There is a thing called white savior complex. It’s a specific form of paternalism, and I was raised with it. It’s so deep in my bones that I’m constantly catching myself in it. You don’t have to be white to have the complex, but it’s most prevalent in white folks like me. It is when people with privilege are rewarded by “saving” those less fortunate. It’s when people with privilege focus on all the good works we’re doing. All the ways we’re virtuous and of good character.

I first learned how to do this when my family adopted a Laotian family after the Vietnam and Laos Civil Wars. We were so proud of how we helped them, clothed them, fed them. Took them to the dentist, taught them to drive, got them drivers licenses. There was a lot of talking about it with friends, I remember. I was about 10, and I remember playing with the eldest daughter, Lee. I’m more than certain that the parents, Lo Fung and Cher Lo, appreciated all that my parents did. But looking back I wonder why our family got involved and how it actually went down.

Here are three things about white savior complex I want to emphasize today. First, it’s usually driven by guilt. We take action out of guilt, instead of taking action because those being oppressed have asked us to. In other words, it’s driven by our own need to be more perfect and create a perfect society instead of from a connection with those impacted.

Secondly, white people often assume that those being oppressed don’t have agency and can’t speak or act for themselves. That means white folks often erase the voices and agency of people who are being oppressed at that moment. And our voices erase the long history of oppressed communities who have been resisting the treatment they have been experiencing for centuries. The term “we give voice to the voiceless” is a classic phrase that I’ve learned to stop using. No one is voiceless.

Third, white savior complex usually neglects the policies that created the problem in the first place. Here’s a great analogy that struck me when I heard it. There is a lake fed by a river. Dead fish keep appearing in the lake. Well-meaning people keep pulling the dead fish out of the lake. These good people can devote time and efforts for the rest of their days pulling dead fish out of the lake. However, unless they travel to the top of the river to learn about what is poisoning the water, their efforts can be more or less futile.

One way white savior complex shows up is in how we tell the stories about our justice work.

We can either use deficit framing or asset framing to tell a story. Trabian Shorters teaches us about the difference:

Ok. Let’s pause.

What emotions are you experiencing in response to this message about white savior complex, perfectionism, paternalism, individualism, and deficit framing? If you can, notice how your body is responding. This act of pausing and reflecting is a spiritual practice that is critical in working for justice.

When you paused, you may have thought, “Well wait a minute. Someone has to do those good acts. If we just give up doing virtuous things, the world will be a lot worse off.” You’re right. I’m not suggesting we stop doing good things, rather, I’m suggesting we consider why and how we work for justice.

A quote that rocked my world when I first got involved in immigration justice work was this: “If you have come here to help me, you are wasting our time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.” -Lilla Watson, visual artist, activist, and academic (written in collaboration with Aboriginal activists in Queensland in the 1970s)

That is interconnection. My liberation is bound up with everyone and everything.

So here are a few suggestions about how to do justice as a spiritual practice of connectedness.

The title of the sermon was specific to immigration, so I’ll use immigration examples, but all of this can be applied to any of the justice work you do.

First, connect to your own story. What is happening in your own life, the life of your congregation or the community? In UU Church of Boulder, there were two members who had “children-in-laws” who were undocumented. So there it was — people directly impacted by immigration policy right in our midst. That led us to realize that many immigrants worked in the Boulder area and were facing all kinds of housing issues.

Rather than thinking we could solve the problems as a sole church, we connected to organizations already doing immigration justice work in the area. The one we chose to work with most closely was the American Friends Service Committee. And they were immigrant-led.

Today, I’m working with Casa de Paz, a Denver-based organization that welcomes people when they are released from detention and helps reunite them with their families. It is led by and staffed by immigrants. And it’s a great place to take a first step in immigration work. We’ll talk more about them later since they are the offering recipients today.

If you wanted to work on prison reform, you would connect with a prison-rights group that is led by current or former prisoners. If you want to address houselessness, you would want to connect with an organization led by those who experience houselessness. You get it.

Once you’re in a partnership, connect to your humility. Become completely humble. Stop talking and start listening. Forget that you know anything or have the best answers. Become accountable to the people impacted by the systemic oppression that’s alive.

The American Friends Service Committee connected us to a family in Boulder. The mother was an amazing and courageous person. She had three young girls, and her husband had been deported. They were living in public housing, but the mom needed a way to make a living. Let’s call her Maria.

We got to really test our humility and temptation to be white saviors, let me tell you. It was so obvious to us what should be done; what needed to be done. But we had to learn to ask these questions:

-Have I been asked for help, or am I jumping in to solve someone’s problem?

-Do I know this person’s wishes, and are my actions and goals in line with them? If I don’t know for sure, how can I find out?

-Am I taking on something that this person could do for themselves? Am I going to tell them something they would most certainly already know?

-Am I trying to fix something that can’t be fixed? If so, is there a way to just be present with someone through the loss/pain/grief?

Over time, and Maria is still in relationship with the Boulder church, we learned to follow her lead. She made decisions about her girls and their schooling. She made decisions about how to earn money and where to live. She made decisions about getting passports and driver’s licenses and more. And she became a prominent leader in the Colorado immigration rights movement. Then we got to follow her to the top of the river to look at the causes of the problems for immigrants in Colorado. We protested and attended court hearings and really worked to change systems. But none of it was our leadership that made the difference. We learned to follow.

Pause. One last time today, pause. How do you feel? This is my last little tidbit for today: The pausing. The reflecting. The connecting to yourself over and over again to see how you are being transformed. Unless we track our own emotions, thoughts, memories, behaviors and bodies, we will bring more dominance, white savior complex into the movement for justice. And the pausing helps us remember that our faith is based in interconnection. That comes first. Our work for justice is a spiritual practice that helps us live our faith.

May it be so.

Love Knows No Borders was originally published in Kelly Dignan www.kellydignan.com on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Here is a sermon I gave to Foothills Unitarian Church in Fort Collins, CO on May 30, 2021. It was fun!

Rev. Kelly Dignan guides us in exploring how play passes through the generations. Drawing on research about the evolutionary role of play, family dynamics, and our Unitarian Universalist Ancestors, Rev. Kelly shares the importance of lineage in the gift of play and how we can leave our own legacy of lightheartedness.

Memorializing Play was originally published in Kelly Dignan www.kellydignan.com on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Within a week of her diagnosis, Mom asked the whole family to read the book Being Mortal: Illness, Medicine and What Matters in the End by Dr. Atul Gawande. During the “book club discussion”, as she called it, she told us that her life had been full, she knew there was life after death in some form and she was not afraid. She asked us to journey with her but to let her be the leader. There would come a time when she would decline treatment and her life as we know it would end. She asked that we honor her decisions when that time came. We all nodded with tears streaming down our faces. “We have your back,” someone said. For her, there was no denial which helped the rest of us begin to come out of ours.

Mom had always been deeply spiritual, and her love of God was unwavering. She and I explored mysticism together in many forms, especially in nature. She loved the power of the mountains, the comfort of the deer. Bright flowers delighted her and matched her bright spirit. She loved to hear about my Celtic studies. I told her I was learning about the ways our ancestors honored the natural world and its cycles. So, together we engaged in guided nature meditations that helped us ground and feel the energy of the Earth. She began to feel a golden bubble of light and energy around her, especially during her treatments. Together, we enacted rituals to honor our ancestors and ask for their support during her passage. She rejected any burdens they had passed to her, opened her arms to receive their gifts, and then named the gifts that were being passed down through her to her descendants.

As you might imagine, her grandchildren were upset by the notion of losing their G.G., so we began to meet monthly to draw strength from the elements, the cycles of time, trees, plants, and Spirit. Together, we spent time honoring the ancestors, asking for their help and support for our beloved mother and grandmother (and for us, too). We planted herbs and other plants, and we watched them grow. Using The Druid Plant Oracle by Philip and Stephanie Carr-Gomm and The Herbiary by Maia Toll, we came to understand the power of plants. And then one night we called on them and their spirits for help. We needed them, because the time had come. Mom had declined further treatment.

We met in the garden, offered thanks to the plants and asked for their permission to be harvested. Then we gathered around a fire and set our sacred circle. There was Basil for happiness, Rose for love, Daisy for authenticity. Tulsi was there to remind us that Mom (and we) were holy. Borage offered courage; Mugwort provided clear seeing and protection. Elderflower was there for blessing, Lavender for calm. Burdock arrived to free us from anything not serving us. Juniper came to purify, Pine to bring peace. Rosemary’s spirit called in the support of ancestors, and Vervain ushered in magic and God.

Hospice said it wouldn’t be long. Mom in her bed at home, moving through the process of crossing the veil; all of us around a fire at my house. “What did she need?” we pondered. Each person moved in silence to the plant spirits G.G. needed. The fire crackled and blazed with the spirits of those plants, and the element of air moved gently, blowing them in exactly the direction where she was.

“What do we need?” we asked next. Again, everyone moved to the plants asking for the support they needed, offering them to the flames. The smoke floated, and each person drew it in and onto themselves. Spirit moved and soothed.

The next day, Mom began to see the ancestors awaiting her as the veil got thinner. She called them by name. A bit later, she told one of my brothers that she was becoming diaphanous, a word she didn’t know. She asked us to look it up, and we learned it means: light, delicate, translucent. She smiled. Then a look of confusion crossed her face. “I’m hung up on Borax,” she puzzled. “Borax is a cleaner, Mom,” I said. “Oh, maybe I can let go of my ego, the part that wants everything to be clean,” she said. I held her hand, and she said, “You can let go of that, too, honey.” We laughed.

It wasn’t long after that. She crossed.

Her memorial service was held online because of COVID-19. The family gathered in-person to watch the pre-recorded service. Before it started, my son said, “Mom, we need to set our circle.” So we asked for God’s blessing and consecration. We honored the directions, elements and original people of the land. The service was lovely, and many people attended, chatting away with comments and emojis on Facebook live. After the service ended, it was time to close the circle. When we all turned to the West (the direction Mom loved best), there was a hawk in the birdbath. A female hawk who had never before and never since sat in the birdbath.

This spirit stayed for 40 minutes — drinking, splashing, pruning, dancing. It seemed that Mom wanted to be at her own memorial service, and we were so glad she came.

My mom is an ancestor now, on her soul journey and whatever is next. I am grateful for how she taught us about dying and death. She is available anytime I call on her. I feel her in the breeze, see her in the trembling leaves on trees, and know she has come whenever I see a feather or when there is a hawk in my midst. Just like the Notre-Dame de Paris cathedral lives on, so does she.

My Mom is an Ancestor Now was originally published in Kelly Dignan www.kellydignan.com on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

For a long time I tried to figure out how to name my spirituality. During seminary, I was working with a spiritual director and described to him my beliefs and spiritual practices. He said, “Well, you’re a mystic!”

I didn’t write down how he described it way back then, but it resembled what Mirabai Starr says:

Mystic: A person who has direct experience of the sacred, unmediated by conventional religious ritual or intermediaries, transcending established belief systems, bypassing the intellect, and dissolving identification with the separate (ego) self.

She adds: “Living as a mystic means orienting the whole of yourself toward the sacred. It’s a matter of purposely looking through the lens of love.”

Let me clarify that rituals are meaningful to me, and I definitely use my intellect. But I do seek to experience the sacred directly, and each day I hope I become one with it, dissolving the illusion that I’m separate. Especially on the days when I’m cranky, I try to return to the lens of love.

Barbara Holmes says, “The mysticism of everyday life is an opportunity to deeply mine the depths of human experience, relationships with others, and our encounters with nature.”

Eco-spirituality is one way to describe what Holmes means by encounters with nature. Eco-spirituality is a way of thinking and living that connects spirituality with the natural world and the environment. It can be found in many religions and is based on the idea that Earth is sacred, humans are not separate from nature, and we do not own nature exclusively for our own gain.

People who practice eco-spirituality are motivated to:
-See the divine in the material world

-Celebrate creation in all its forms

-Link ecological issues to their faith

-Respect Earth and its resources

-Care for all life to create flourishing for all

I’m an ordained Unitarian Universalist minister. Direct experiences of transcending mystery and wonder are primary sources of Unitarian Universalist inspiration. These experiences open our hearts, renew our spirits, and transform our lives.

If you want to explore mysticism and eco-spirituality, not just intellectually but through practice, reach out to me! www.kellydignan.com.

What’s a Mystic? was originally published in Kelly Dignan www.kellydignan.com on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Then I read the work of Dr. Jon Kabat-Zinn. He says that there is a difference between curing and healing. A cure is something that stops a disease, something that ends a problem or eliminates a bad situation. For some problems, cures exist. But for many they do not. Healing means a restoration to wholeness. For example, someone who has lost an arm in an accident is still a whole person. Someone who faces death from an incurable disease is still whole.

Wholeness! That is possible and reasonable. We don’t spiritually bypass the problem by thinking we can make it go away entirely, but we can participate in practices that create more wholeness and ask for spiritual support for that process.

Several years after reading Dr. Zinn’s work, I went to seminary and found the same perspective presented there. I also learned that the words heal, healthy, whole, and holy all have some things in common when we look at root words:

The Old English word hælan means “to heal; make whole, sound and well;”

Old Norse heill means “healthy;”

Old Norse helge is “holy, sacred.”

Healing involves practices that shift our mindset of suffering and anguish, recognize our intrinsic wholeness and deepen our connection to everything else. And yes, we can ask for spiritual help from God, ancestors, Universal Life Force - whatever else supports us - without waiting for them to take it all away. We play a role. It is sacred, holy work that helps us become more healthy and whole.

Healing vs. Curing was originally published in Kelly Dignan www.kellydignan.com on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

According to the ancient Northern European Celtic tradition, the new year begins on November 1st. A ceremony and celebration was held for three days (October 31 through November 2) to harvest the crops and livestock. It was a time of change and transition from way of living to another — from Summer to Winter; from sunlit outdoor life to warmth by the hearth. The time was called “Samhain” in Irish Gaelic and “Samhuinn” in Scottish Gaelic. Both are pronounced ‘Sow (as in cow) — in (as in Inn)’.

During these three days, the veil of time is lifted, and we may commune with those gone before us more clearly than at other times of year. It is also a time of connection with nature, as are all the holidays in the Celtic calendar.

Similar celebrations are held in cultures and traditions:

In Mexico: Dia de Los Muertos translates literally to “day of the dead”

In China: Zhongyuan Festival

In Japan: Bon Festival

In Christianity across the world: Halloween or All Hallow’s Eve, All Saints Day and All Souls Day

Several years ago, I began to honor all the holidays of my Celtic heritage, including Samhain. The main feature of this ceremony is an invitation to our healthy ancestors, teachers and friends to join the celebration so that we might honor them and ask them for help. (If you are adopted and/or don’t have information about your family history, it’s no problem. We sense into your bloodlines energetically.) We ask these helpers for assistance to release that which is not serving us and call in something for the new year.

The recorded meditation below creates an energetic landscape of safety and healing so that you can ask these helpers for assistance to release that which is not serving you and call in something for the new year.

Why?
Returning to our roots — ancestors, cultures and land — is especially important for white folks. In most cases, when our people came to the U.S., they were cut off from their heritage and asked to assimilate. It’s as if they (and as a result, we) were orphaned. In the past few years, it’s become clear that if we were raised in the United States, we were raised in a white supremacy culture. If we are to dismantle that, we need something to fall back on so we’re not left anchorless. We need a landing pad. Returning to our ancestors, roots and culture can offer that. So can a return to the Earth and natural world. Rituals like this can help us do that.

To prepare, gather the following:

• Two strips of paper per person
• Pens
• One piece of ribbon per person (whatever you have around the house is fine)

Meditate about a burden you’d like to release. Also consider something new you want to call in 1) for yourself and 2) for the world and all of creation. The ancestors will be ready to help you!

​Build an altar with the following (if you don’t have it all handy, just have the paper and pens):

• In the North, a rock or crystal to represent the element of Earth. Mementos of the ancestors in one of your lines (ex: your mother’s father’s line). (Photos, trinkets, pieces of jewelry, symbols, names written on paper, etc. If you don’t have any objects, that’s ok. Just know we’ll be honoring those lines in the ceremony.)
• In the East, a feather, bell or incense to represent the element of Air. Mementos of the ancestors in another line (ex: your father’s father’s lineage).
• In the South, a candle to represent the element of Fire. Mementos of the ancestors in the next line (ex: your father’s mother’s lineage).
• In the West, a bowl of water or a seashell to represent the element of Water. Mementos of the ancestors in the last of your lines (ex: your mother’s mother’s line).
• Imagine empty chairs in each direction, ready to welcome the healthy ones of that line.
• NOTE: There’s nothing magical about the direction you pick for each line. You choose. Just give them all a spot on the altar.
• If you know what kind of offering they would like, place those offerings on the altar, too. (Think food, drink, herbs) Herbs for Samhain are acorn, apple, corn, hazel, mullein, nightshade, pumpkin, sage, turnip, wormwood (A Druid’s Herbal by Ellen Evert Hopman)

Here’s my altar for this year:

• Find a safe space indoors or outdoors to burn one small piece of paper at a time. You’ll want to consider smoke alarms inside. And if you plan to be outside, excellent fire safety is essential, especially considering the fires that are spreading throughout our country, In the bowl or bucket, you can add sand or rocks at the bottom. During the ritual, you’ll be invited to place the single piece of paper in the container and light it. Have a pitcher of water nearby, just in case.
• If fire doesn’t feel safe, have a trowel and a place in your surroundings so you can bury the piece(s) of paper in the Earth.
• Treats and libations to enjoy after the ceremony. Consider preparing a family recipe (I love to make my paternal grandma’s brownies!)

Here is the guided meditation:

Once the meditation is complete, celebrate with food and drink!

If you’d like to go deeper, here’s what we could do together: Ancestral Healing and Practices.

Many blessings, Kelly

Connecting with Our Ancestors at This Time of Year was originally published in Kelly Dignan www.kellydignan.com on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Listen here

Watch here:

Show Notes:

I’m not a native of Colorado or America; I’m fourth generation born and raised in Colorado, but not a native

Amnesia and anesthesia

Grief and joy — authentically feeling both and not rushing through grief

Not romanticizing our ancestors — they may have been colonizers, oppressors, racists and addicts

Noticing those patterns so as not to repeat them

Sensing into the gifts from the ancestors so you can embrace them and pass them on

Ancestor healing practices for white folx

Stories about my own ancestral lines

Rituals that help bring it all home in this physical world

We are ancestors in the making

Hurt people hurt people; metabolizing our pain so we don’t hurt others

We we are wired for belonging; we have choice about who and what we belong to — old patterns, or the gifts of our lines?

Midwives and death doulas — companions through the chaos

We are in a Great Turning like Joanna Macy describes

It is a time for birthing something new, which is certain to be painful and messy. We can be death doulas for the death of our culture as it is, and we can be midwives during rebirth into something much more sustainable.

Each of us will need companions for our own journey, too

About Kelly

Ancestor Healing Practices Podcast with Ashley Devers was originally published in Kelly Dignan www.kellydignan.com on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

One of the first exercises is to find a Sit Spot and visit it regularly. In the words of Kamana,

“In its most basic form, a sit spot is a single place in nature that you visit on a regular basis. Sit spots can be pristine and wild, but they can also be in the suburbs or the heart of a city.

There are three essential factors to consider when choosing your sit spot. First, you should feel safe in this place. Second, there should be at least some components of nature present, make sure that you are least outdoors. Finally, the convenience of your spot is critical. The closer your sit spot is to your home, the more likely you’ll visit it regularly. It should be less than a five-minute walk from your front door.”

Here’s what I’ve learned about what to do once you’re there.

Orient yourself to the four directions. Which way is North? South? West and East?

Then you can engage your senses:

Owl Eyes — What do you see? How far can you see? Are there birds, creatures, plants, trees? What is different than before? What season are you in?

Dear Ears — What do you hear? How far off can you hear? What’s the faintest noise?

Baby Skin — Do you feel anything on your skin — the breeze perhaps? Moisture?

Raccoon Paws — How does it feel to touch something natural, like leaves of a plant or bark of a tree?

Bear Nose (or Dog Nose) — What do you smell?

To get to your special place, Walk Like a Fox — slowly and quietly as not to disturb any of the nature around you.

Combine all this, and you get Wolf Power!

These are great exercises for you and any kids in your life.

See and hear about my Sit Spot in the backyard and how it’s different, but just as powerful as the one in the majestic foothills of Boulder:

See my Sit Spot in the nearby park and learn about making offerings and connections:

For more visit kellydignan.com

Sit Spots in the City was originally published in Kelly Dignan www.kellydignan.com on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.