Clarion

Julia Hanessian

November 12, 2023

"I believed that there was a God because I was told it by my grandmother and later by other adults.  But when I found that I knew not only that there was God but that I was a child of God...  when I internalized that, ingested that, I became courageous.

"Courage is the most important of all the virtues because without courage, you can't practice any other virtue consistently."

Written by, The Great Sage, Maya Angelou

Moving in step with death is a powerful experience.  Accompanying, moving into and living amongst death; getting to know it, making it a friend.  Watching what it takes, what it brings.  In witnessing my husband Bruce's death, I was often struck silent by awe: awe of the infinite power, swirling within and around us, seeding magic moments of pain and clarity, all while moving the pieces of our lives in ways I couldn't have imagined.

There's a helpless quality one must get used to in this space.  Helplessness to a chaotic process, yet a paradoxically, predictable outcome.  I set my intention to not just be witness to this movement of spirit, but to experience it fully, and for it to move me.  Death, in all its finality, has an enormous, yet surprisingly, grounding energy.  I often found myself in stillness, observation.

There were times of feeling quite broken by the stress and chaos, but much of the time, I felt honored, having been entrusted to hold space, and gently as possible guide our family in a sacred time.  It was work that I was meant to do.  And on the good days I saw opportunity, a chance to partner with this powerful energy beyond me, God, as I watched my earth partner fall away.

New truths.

To face moments such as death you must do your emotional work.  I now see with tremendous clarity that it is only through great pain, hard work and true healing that one can face moments like this squarely, day in and out, with love, dignity and integrity; face and be washed in the awesome power of God, without being crippled with fear; allow that awesome power to change you.

In the clearest moments I could see God, and I could see this time for the many things it was:

• A focused light beaming into an enormous multifaceted crystal, creating millions of fractal rainbows.
• An arc point of deep understanding and wisdom.  An experience of natural closeness to God.
• A heartbreaking chance to go deeper.

Since I was a child, I have senselessly, with no regard for safety, like a moth to a flame, run to dance and revel in the most violent summer storms.  The more violent, the better.

Why?  Why would anyone do this?  I bring this up in particular, not just for the metaphor, but because this rather risky thing I do feels especially relevant now.

There has always been more behind this urge to experience the awe of this torrential, terrifying beauty.  And now I have clarity as to why and how I see storms differently than most.

Choosing to be in the storm is a personal sacrifice, a sacrificial offering to the divine.  In this deluge of water, wind and lightning, everything stops.  I give in to my primal instincts and, without thought, offer myself to this power: with trust, curiosity and honestly, irrepressible joy — rebuking all fear, leaching it from my pores and washing it away by rain.  Through this process I replenish my humility and authenticity.  Feeling our smallness in the face of true greatness is often the best medicine.

Storms are an opportunity to renegotiate peace with the wind and lightning, the unpredictable outcomes; to renegotiate one’s helplessness, one’s burden of character, one’s fate.  Storms offer opportunity to attune to the infinite, and the consequent responsibility of acting on what that connection delivers to you.  And then, there is my favorite part: without fail, the after-storm calm shines clarity on the infinite possibilities within you.

So, I am here, at this spiritual culmination point, a moment that holds both a more profound understanding for all that preceded it, and all that is yet to come.

And in time I am sure the pain of all I know will be balanced by the endless possibilities of the future's blank canvas.

We have now come to the interesting part of my teaching in which I will share what I think is a beautiful byproduct of this story.  In my stillness with God over the past few months, I have been provided a gift.  This gift is the sole reason I was moved to share any of this today.  In the intensity of the past few months, God has intermittently moved through me in thoughts, visions and words.  I have had these experiences of what one might call "a vision" or "prophetic connection" with the divine in fits and spurts throughout my life, but I see this recent collection of beautiful God experiences with renewed reverence.  I also see themes taking shape.  As these God-moments aggregate, themes around unselfish universal love, voice, attunement, connection, and amplification are surfacing.  These themes remind me of you, this Eighth Day community, which is why I feel compelled to share them with you.

I will share with you two instances of what I experienced recently as very clear God-flow moments. 

The first is a dream.  In this dream, I was walking amongst many of you, on streets we did not know.  We were in an expansive mindset, talking to strangers, talking to many people.  We had some sort of collective mission.  I remember snippets of sitting together on a beach, talking on the streets, going into kitchens and talking more with strangers, connecting effortlessly with different cultures.  There was one kitchen in particular in this dream which was really beautiful; there were women in it making Greek food and we were having fun connecting with them, with each other.  It was a vivid dream that was to be remembered, filled with connection, light, joy and community inspired by God.  A dream of empowering those around us, for we had been so enlightened and empowered ourselves by the spirit.  By our way.  It was a different view, of something I have named 'this'.

This dream got me wondering— what is 'this"?  It's this place at 8th Day ... where we don't feel compelled to fit in a box.  Where we can explore the outer limits of our ideas, our genuine reactions to our daily experiences in the world, in a place centered in goodwill and love.  What are the unspoken norms of this place that makes it special?  What brings you back again, and again?

Is it that we can come late and it's no big thing?  Or that we can drink coffee, or sit on the floor?  Or that we joyfully hug when we pass the peace?  Or that we introduce and love on strangers?  Or that we just seem to effortlessly shower one another with love?  What is it?

As someone who is endlessly fascinated by and has studied relationships, for me, it is the attuned connection here.

This place teaches, fosters and practices loving, attuned connection, to God and one another.  In my studies I have learned that attuned connection is essential to the experience of emotional safety and wholeness.  I would take that thought a step further and say that this attuned connection we experience here, is the practice of divine love.  I believe it is the closest, most tangible way we communicate the divine love light within us.

Here is another poem by Ms Angelo that embodies this shared divinity.  It is titled:

Touched by an Angel

We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight live coiled in shells of loneliness until love leaves its high holy temple and comes into our sight to liberate us into life.

Love arrives and in its train come ecstasies: old memories of pleasure, ancient histories of pain.  Yet if we are bold, love strikes away the chains of fear from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity. In the flush of love's light we dare be brave. And suddenly we see that love costs all we are and will ever be.  Yet it is only love which sets us free.

Do we know and feel how valuable this love and divinity we give each other is?  Are we bringing the wisdom of our value, our truths to this space?  Are we being vulnerable?  Are we seizing the opportunity to teach and share our big- and little- God, love-centered inspirations?  The moments that feel real and true?

I want to remind you today, each and every one of you, of how valuable you all are.  Sit in that truth.

It is easy to see how our strength as a community lies in how we value and see one another, for it results in this amplified love that shines so bright that even those who normally go unseen may be illuminated!

Sadly, many people in the world don't know this sort of 'connected space'.  They don't know what it is to be heard, seen and held in the light.  I'm talking about regular people — variations of us.  They don't know, 'this.'  They don't know the power of their own thoughtfully amplified voice, for their voices have been pushed down, subjugated by culture, organized religion, and hierarchical social norms to the point of apathy and isolation.  But, they should know 'this'.  There's something to be known here.

Maya Angelo captures the essence of this sentiment in her poem,

Savior

Petulant priests, greedy centurions, and one million incensed gestures stand between your love and me.

Your agape sacrifice is reduced to colored glass, vapid penance, and the tedium of ritual.

Your footprints yet mark the crest of billowing seas but your joy fades upon the tablets of ordained prophets.

Visit us again, Savior.  Your children, burdened with disbelief, blinded by a patina of wisdom, carom down this vale of fear.  We cry for you although we have lost your name.

Yes, there is definitely something to be known here.  Knowing begins with clarity, with naming.

How do we create 'God spaces' within ourselves, and in here, and what do they move in you?  How can we amplify other voices, here, and out there?

I will end by sharing one other God flow moment I have had over the past couple months with you, which is in the form of a poem.  Although the words of the poem were clearly written by me and are in my 'voice,' I truly had the experience of being more of a transcriber than a creator as I received it.  The entire thing came all at once with great ease, as if I was tuned in transcribing a narration.