Last weekend I traveled free with points (thanks, Southwest) to Jacksonville, Florida and then drove to the most beautiful of places, St. Simons Island. I had visited there as a child but it was my first adult visit at Epworth by the Sea and I LOVED it. I rode a bike in the mornings, walked a lot, and sat at the pier before the Southern Lights Conference began. Pro tip: if you're traveling solo (especially to an island) and have the space, always arrive early or leave late to offer yourself a little extra soul care and/or processing time. 

As a writer, anytime I get to hang out with or meet the people whose books I've read and who impacted my journey, it's a treat. I did not ask for selfies, but I did soak up their every word. Then to meet new-to-me authors and Speakers as I did this past weekend - wow, wow, wow. I'm so glad I made time for this conference. And I took book money to spend - hooray! 

Idilia Delio absolutely blew my mind (I realize 'absolutely' is an unnecessary word in this sentence but trust me, it is not). Literally, I think my brain is still processing what I heard, and will be for a long time. She is a Franciscan Sister and American theologian writing and teaching about science, religion, evolution, physics, and neuroscience. You would think she was boring - NOPE. Instead, she was an absolute delight and has tickled my brain in ways I didn't know possible. I cannot wait to read my first of her now 24 books!

The brilliant and healing poetry of Pádraig Ó Tuama, read by Pádraig, made poems come alive for me again, or maybe for the first time. His poetry readings invited us to think without telling us what to think. So I'll be listening to more poems this year and anchor my life with poetry.

I met the very kind and wise Christian ethicist Reggie Williams, and fantastic authors Diana Butler Bass and Brian McLaren (superb people). I heard from some brilliant podcasting theologians Tripp Fuller and Grace Ji-Sun Kim. Unfortunately, there's not enough space here to share all I learned from their sharing. Oh and I connected with delightful attendees, there were a LOT of Methodists at Epworth by the Sea, so I likely would have found some church cousins if I looked long enough.

It was noted to me more than once that I was one of the youngest attendees (even at 48). It hit me during communion as we closed, I was so grateful to be surrounded by older adults. Then an 83-year old retired pastor tapped me on the arm as I waited in that line and said, "God bless you, Whitney." Honestly, I was right at home. I need all these wiser, older people in my life. If you're not flocking to those with at least a couple of decades on you, do it. I'm counting on the exceptional longevity of my grandmothers to trickle into my genes, so I can be one of them one day. There is so much life yet to live!

Nudged by an older wiser mentor, I came to this conference after a full season, on purpose. Stewarding a devotional into the world may not seem like much, but it is. I was nearly empty. As a creator sharing your creation, putting it in front of others can be overwhelming. I knew I was tired and doubted myself as I was packing to leave. But I am thankful I found a way to fill back up. We even meditated as a group, I indeed found my people. 

I left that beautiful island with a LOT more knowledge than when I entered it and plenty of soul care too. But I realized a few (okay, four) things in particular that feel important to share:

1. We always have room to grow and learn! Learning new things and expanding our viewpoint on challenging topics (I'm talking not always friendly dinner conversations like politics, anti-racism, evolution and creation) is vital. We MUST learn and grow to move forward.
2. We are not made to live alone, and there are many great people to be in community with. Go find them.
3. Older adults are a gift. They have lived through many experiences. And, (this is important) if the world has not hardened their hearts and they are kind enough to share their wisdom, then you should hang out with them more often. 
4. Read more poetry, it's good for the soul.

Thanks to Pádraig, I found this poem, and I've been sitting with it since I left the island. It's not really about leaving an island. Whyte wrote these words about his own poem (below), "There are certain vivid days that live on in the memory, carrying not only the extraordinary images of what occurred but a still growing revelation that is an equally growing introduction to our own future. Such was the day last year on Inishbofin when the silence and the beauty of the place, the singing of good Irish friends in a ruined chapel and a perfect company of people brought a sense of perfection, privilege and forgiveness. I left the island half a shade braver than when I arrived, which is, after all is said and done, all that we need." 


"Leaving the Island" by David Whyte
Inishbofin

It must have been
the slant of the light,
the sheer cross-grain of rain
against the summer sun,
the way the island appeared
gifted, out of the gleam
and the depth of distance,
so that when you turned
to look again,
the scend of the sea
had carried you on,
under the headland
and into the waiting harbour.

And after the pilgrim lanes,
and the ruined chapel,
the lads singing beneath the window,
and the Corn-Crake calling from
a corner of a field,
after the gull cries and the sea-hush
at the back of the island,
it was the way, standing still
or looking out,
walking or even talking
with others in the evening bar,
holding your drink
and laughing with the rest,
that you realized–part of you
had already dropped to its knees,
to pray, to sing, to look–
to fall in love with everything
and everyone again, that someone
from deep inside you had come out
into the sea-light to raise its hands
and forgive everyone in your short life
you thought you hadn't, and that all along
you had been singing your quiet way
through the rosary of silence
that held their names.

Above all, the way afterwards,
you thought you had left the island
but hadn't, the way you knew
you had gone somewhere
into the shimmering light
and come out again on the tide
as you knew you had to,
as someone who would return
and live in the world again,
a man granted just a glimpse,
a woman granted just a glimpse,
some one half a shade braver,
a standing silhouette in the stern,
holding the rail,
riding the long waves back,
ready for the exile we call a home.


So, now for a few questions:

1. What will you leave behind this year? 
2. What will you move toward? 
3. How will you be half a shade braver than before? 

The live music ceased.
The hugs disappeared.
The worship paused.
The businesses wavered.
Give Thanks Anyway.

The table is empty.
The shoulders are tight. 
The friend is struggling. 
The account is dwindling.
Give Thanks Anyway.

The mask helps.
The Zoom introduces.
The commute is less.
The family is present.
Give Thanks Anyway.

The quarantine teaches.
The neighbor offers.
The alone time is reflective.
The pause is not so bad.
Give Thanks Anyway.

The divide is real, not imagined.
The conflict continues within.
The work God is doing is evident. 
The choice to embrace it is mine.
Give Thanks Anyway.

At the conclusion of our group spiritual direction session today, I shared a song by Gungor. It's one of my favorites to ponder, pray, and move with on my yoga mat. "Late Have I Loved You" was released in February of 2010 so it has been around for a bit (although not nearly as long as the original). It's a beautiful interpretation of St. Augustine of Hippo's ancient poem/prayer that speaks of his religious conversion.
​
​Interestingly enough, I discovered this poem the month before the song was released. I remember this only because I posted about it on my blog over 7 years ago.

You can read Gungor's interpretation of Augustine's prayer below. How does this poem/prayer/song speak to you on your spiritual journey? 

"Late Have I Loved You"

Late have I loved you,
O Beauty so ancient,
so new

Late have I loved you
you were within me, but I was outside you
it was there that I searched for you
it was there that I searched for you

Late have I loved you,
O Beauty so ancient, so new.
you were here with me
but I was not with You
it was there that you found me
it was there that you found me

You called and you shouted,
you broke through my deafness.
You flashed and you shone,
dispelled my blindness.
You breathed your fragrance on me
You breathed your fragrance on me
Late have I loved you

I drew in your breath
I keep on breathing
I've tasted I’ve seen
And now I want more
You breathed your fragrance on me
You breathed your fragrance on me
Late have I loved you

Write A Poem
by Whitney R. Simpson

​Write a poem
most everyday
to free your spirit 
and not be led astray

Listening from within
is the only way
to discover the wisdom
of God today

It isn't found in scrolling
or opinion or polls
God whispers through creation
into your soul

What do you see, hear, feel, notice
around you today?

Let go of the external stimulation
drawing you away

Lean in and listen
only God makes you whole

What's that whisper deep inside
inviting you to stay?

Write a poem
most everyday
to free your spirit
and not be led astray

Silence: A Poem
by Whitney R. Simpson

She is my companion
yet I avoid her gaze

She is my teacher
yet I push back at her instruction

She is my guide
yet I veer from her course

She is my friend
yet I wonder why she comes near

She is my gift
and I long to savor her more fully

She is inviting me to a oneness with God,
listen...do you hear her?

Why not?

I avoid her gaze
because at first she looks lonely

I push back at her instruction
because of my own agenda

I veer from her course
because I am easily distracted

I wonder why she comes near
because there is always another choice

Yet I long to savor her
like never before

And once I say yes to her
I receive an awareness I never knew
​she could introduce to me

She is my companion,
my teacher,
my guide,
my friend

She is God's gift

​Silence

What works for your life?  I have a long list of things I prefer to spend my time doing both alone and with my family.  Things like my morning quiet time, yoga, writing, reading, knitting, biking, kayaking, photography, thrifting, etc.  Things that too often slip to the bottom of my list.

This morning I awoke with my "to do" list racing through my head and yet the longing to not simply cram my day with the many tasks from my list.  I woke up knowing the list must be accomplished.  I also awoke knowing that I longed to make time for at least one of those preferred activities that fills me up and connects me with God.   

I have learned. These things keep me going. And yet I let them slip away. 

So I sat for a moment in the quiet, fighting the distractions of the "list" for the day.

And then I settled in to the stillness and I read this poem.

God speaks.  I just have to slow down and listen.  

For me, preference it is today - to the things that worked before.  The "to do" list already seems easier to tackle.