We danced last night. Over one hundred sweaty bodies moving through space. In the middle of the dance, the energy pumping, feet moving, the music completely stopped. As a teacher, I now learn to breathe into these moments. As I breathe there is a slight anxiety. The anxiety comes from things not going as I had planned. When things don’t happen how I plan them, both on and off the dance floor, my prayer is my breath. And as I breathe, I slowly begin to trust. So, when the music stopped abruptly last night, and I began to trust, I watched in awe as the moment took over. The students started stomping, clapping, singing, and did not miss a beat. And when the music picked up again, we just kept on going. After the dance, we stayed together for a while. Some massaged each others backs, others inquired about what the heck I do in Colorado Springs, and others said, how can I follow my heart. They said, I do not want to just work to make money, or to get on top. I want to do what I love. With the biggest light, the light that burns in each and every one of us, I shined back that it was totally possible to do what they loved. In fact, it is their birthright. It is what they came here for.
We have come to be danced
Where the kingdom’s collide
In the cathedral of flesh
To burn back into the light
To unravel, to play, to fly, to pray
To root in skin sanctuary
We have come to be danced
We have come.
by Jewel Mathieson
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| Posted by Jenny Finn at | | | |
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Beauty is easy to spot in Hawaii. Beauty is sensed in this landscape- through the taste of a papaya and salt on my lips, the feel of a fresh banana peel, picked right off the tree, the smell of plumeria from a bloom I picked up off the hot street, and the sun setting like a pink curtain over the ocean. Sometimes it is hard to spot beauty. Like a teacher once said, "Jenny, when you see a pile of shit, you are always looking for the pony." I saw the pony everywhere in Hawaii.
*The man in the photo is Robert, who we couch surfed with. And Andrew is standing in front of his beautiful garden, that we ate a fresh salad from.
     
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| Posted by Jenny Finn at | | | |
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I stood on Waikiki Beach yesterday and watched my daughter jump straight into the ocean with her fleece pants on. She belly laughed, and ran around with her brother, as the sun set and surfers watched on surf boards. As we gathered our things and headed back to our hotel for the night, a professor from the ship approached us. He said, “Hey, you’re the spiritual lady, you will appreciate this (pause)I think.” And he pull out a small sandwich bag with grey dust in it. “This is my mom and dad. They loved the Royal Hawaiian, I am going to drop some of them there.” Just then, Andrew and Lizzie came up to us, “Mommy, what is that?” The professor started to stuff the bag back in his pocket, apologizing. I quickly said, “No, no, we talk about death in the Finn family.” So he brought the bag back out and explained what it was. They looked very closely, even touched the bag. And then ran off. Death doesn’t have to be so weird. We just need to get it out in the open. Take it out of our pockets so to speak.
The last time I was in Honolulu, I was with my Dad. My Dad is now on the other side. I did shed some tears as I walked the touristy streets of Waikiki. I remembered how we drove around in an electric turquoise blue convertible. I remember the first time I saw the rocky and sandy shores of North Oahu. It was with my Dad. My Dad and I communicate now with a sign. Those of you who have lost parents know, you have to have a sign. It might be a button, or a penny, or a star. We connect through these little bits of magic. For my Dad and I, it is a rooster. I have a funny rooster story that actually happened in Hawaii (for another time), and an amazing story about how the day after my Dad died a rooster appeared, enormous before me. It was a wooden statue at the entry of the funeral home. A rooster in a funeral home? When does that happen? So, yesterday morning, our last day on Oahu, I asked my Dad for a sign. We pulled up in Hanaumu Bay to snorkel and what came right up to Andy’s door? A big rooster. And it was crowing. Traveling around the world, bringing my work to a new, large community is vulnerable, risky business. I am grateful to have an angel by my side. He always promised he would be.
My Hawaiian memories include shaved coconut ice with a big scoop of pineapple orange ice cream in the center; Lizzie cackling at the waves; Andrew lying face down on the bare sand and almost falling asleep; Andy doing Qi Gong next to (but far enough from) an erupting volcano; picking nectarines and bananas from a tree; and staying in the home of a stranger, who made me delicious waffles and the best spaghetti sauce I have ever had.
Next time, I promise, I will write about the dance. Because is it ever happening on this ship. Sweet dreams, my friends.
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| Posted by Jenny Finn at | | | |
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Imagine....Andrew teaching twenty children and college students how to finger knit, as a proud smile spreads from ear to ear on his face. Imagine Andrew and Lizzie learning the hula, hips swaying, eyes focused on the teacher. Fully secure in the dance. Imagine over sixty finger knit and needle knitted scarves..all going to children around the world after being blessed by a shipboard community. Imagine (pictures forthcoming) thirty or more college students and a grandma jumping up and down, sweat dripping from their faces, singing "One Tribe" together..all kinds. Imagine a circle of ten students and me, sweaty and full of life, in a massage circle..rubbing each others worn out backs. Imagine Lizzie and Andrew joining that circle. And imagine Andy, standing right in the center of the ship, in the union, teaching what he loves dearly, Qi Gong. And imagine him in a full on dodge ball game with fifteen children. It's hard to imagine, but it is happening to me. It's happening to us. By the grace of God it is happening to us. Hawaii in the morning. More to come.
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| Posted by Jenny Finn at | | | |
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I flipped the ocean off today. I know. We love the ocean and her beauty. But today, I had enough. I was resisting her big time. I have been trying to make peace with her all day. We were told by the captain that these swells we are experiencing are some of the biggest in a very long time. Storms pummel the west coast and we feel it here in the middle of the ocean. A faculty member just came by to chat and I said, "So John, is this rocking getting to you?" And he said, "Yeah, but what the hell, we aren't sinking!" Well, there you go. Someone who has made peace with what is. You know it is probably not so much the rocking that is troubling me, but the resisting of the rocking. When we resist what is,we end up doing things like flipping the ocean off. My finger gesture was followed by a hearty laugh. From me and the ocean. The ocean puts me in my place; makes me small. And my practice becomes breathing. Breathing in gratitude, and breathing it out. I am alive to kiss my daughter on the back deck as an albatross flies overhead. I am alive to see my moon-faced son in a life jacket. And I am alive to be going around the world. Gratitude gives me perspective. We aren't sinking. We are headed to Hilo. Hawaii here we come.
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| Posted by Jenny Finn at | | | |
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I am on a ship that rocks. It rocks so deeply that office chairs go running into walls and pitchers of water slide off the table. It is a constant and deep sway. We are on the fastest passenger ship in the world, headed for Hawaii. But right now, we are going slowwwww......twelve knots to be exact. So, with ten to fifteen foot swells, going slowly, we rock deeply. Last night, my books, singing bowl and a little paper cup with water and a Mexican rose, slid off onto my floor. And Lizzie's dinner careened right off the table; along with her juice tonight. The rocking has made me sleepy, almost calm. And today, a professor asked me how I am, and I hesitated, not knowing how to respond. And then he offered, "Serene?" YES! That is it. Serene. Sometimes it is hard for me to recognize. The rocking of this ship is like being held by a big mama. I have felt everything from total insecurity to ecstasy, all in one breath. I need some nurturing. Don't we all? A little comfort amidst our humanity.
The ship moves with the ocean. I see the wave swell up, and the ship moves with it. I see the water go down, the ship goes deeper. I am smack dab right in the middle of the flow. And She rocks me into serenity. Like the mama inside.
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| Posted by Jenny Finn at | | | |
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Landscape is the firstborn of creation. It is the most ancient presence in the world , though it needs a human presence to acknowledge it. John O'Donohue
View from our ship of Ensenada
View of a wall in a store of downtown Ensenada
My definition of beauty has expanded exponentially over the past four days, which feels like four months already. Beauty has been everything from the awkwardness of being served my food every morning, noon and night; dancing on the top of the ship and as I stretch my arms out so does the seagull right in front of me; the support of colleague's when I feel insecure and don't know what I am doing; the taste of freshly fried tortilla chips; and the fear and excitement of being in a new country. Should I eat the salsa? Should I smile at the man following me with silver chains, saying over and over, "one dollar"? When I witness new landscapes outside of me, I encounter the unfamiliar within.
I am on a journey around the world. I am grateful and I am human. I have felt everything from stark loneliness to sheer exhaustion. My feet tingled with excitement today at the thought of six hundred people boarding this ship tomorrow. I smiled tonight as I breathed in the warm air of Ensenada. I smiled when I remember that no matter what I do, or don't do, I am loved exactly as I am. And I am here to witness this beauty around me. The beauty of all of life. All of me. How fortunate I am.
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| Posted by Jenny Finn at | | | |
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For the
Traveler
Every time you leave home,
Another road takes
you
Into a world you were never in.
New strangers on other paths
await.
New places that have never seen you
Will startle a little at your
entry.
Old places that know you well
Will pretend nothing
Changed since
your last visit.
When you travel, you find yourself
Alone in a
different way,
More attentive now
To the self you bring along,
Your
more subtle eye watching
You abroad; and how what meets you
Touches that
part of the heart
That lies low at home:
How you unexpectedly
attune
To the timbre in some voice,
Opening in conversation
You want to
take in
To where your longing
Has pressed hard enough
Inward, on some
unsaid dark,
To create a crystal of insight
You could not have
known
You needed
To illuminate
Your way.
When you
travel,
A new silence
Goes with you,
And if you listen,
You will
hear
What your heart would
Love to say.
A journey can become
a sacred thing:
Make sure, before you go,
To take the time
To bless
your going forth,
To free your heart of ballast
So that the compass of
your soul
Might direct you toward
The territories of spirit
Where you
will discover
More of your hidden life,
And the urgencies
That deserve
to claim you.
May you travel in an awakened way,
Gathered wisely
into your inner ground;
That you may not waste the invitations
Which wait
along the way to transform you.
May you travel safely, arrive
refreshed,
And live your time away to its fullest;
Return home more
enriched, and free
To balance the gift of days which call you.
~
John O'Donohue ~
(To Bless the Space Between
Us)
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| Posted by Jenny Finn at | | | |
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| Palm trees, the smell of salt and sea, and birds of paradise, bright orange and purple flowers out the window of the Budget rental car shuttle. San Diego, here we are. We are on the seventeenth floor of a hotel. I can see the jets landing at the airport, every five minutes. And as I look out the window onto the city, I know I have already learned something.
When we got here yesterday, I was tired, hungry and nervous. As we waited for our luggage, a family of four came up to us and asked, "Are you going on Semester at Sea?" "Yes, we are!", we answered, half exhausted and excited at the same time. We exchanged our locations, schools, brief histories with the program. I asked the woman, "What will you be teaching?" "Sexuality." Yes!
As we headed to find our place for the night and food, we all started to deteriorate. A slow death, so to speak. Lizzie started flailing around in the Gaslamp quarter, where all the restaurants are, but don't open until five. Then, Lizzie started poking Andrew and taking his rolling suitcase and running it all over God's green earth; with Andrew screaming and punching behind her. And Andy and I just breathed. We would start in on each other, "I told you we should of eaten lunch at the airport" I would self righteously declare. Andy, "But we only had five minutes between getting to the next plane and boarding." Good point.
When we don't take care of our bodies, we have a very hard time connecting to our souls. And when I say soul, I mean that creative force that is very much alive and well and willing to help us. Many of us wonder if this life within exists because we don't take the time, or don't know how, to connect with it. Because our bodies experience life, we need our bodies to experience our soul life. We did not eat well yesterday. We did not sleep enough the night before. And we hadn't worked our bodies very much, being in an airport and indoors all day. I notice when I disconnect from my body, I disconnect from my soul and all that if offers. Who would have known, connect with your body, connect with your soul? We go to church and don't hear very much about the body, generally speaking. And we go to work out our bodies at the gym, and don't hear very much about the soul. We separate them so severely in our culture. And they are not separate. The body is not an obstacle to be overcome. And the soul is not some fluffy, abstract idea that has no use for us in this nitty gritty, human life. We need them both. And when we connect with our bodies, we begin to open to this pathway to the soul.
As we ate delicious coconut soup, chicken curry in little pots and drank fresh water, our bodies came to life. And so did the beauty within and around us. And we made good decisions, for our bodies and souls. We went to the hotel, instead of Target to buy what we needed for the trip. We went swimming. We rested in our cozy, soft sheeted beds. And watched Sesame Street. Now, we head to the ship to leave at eleven o'clock tonight! But first, we are headed to walk, run, and go plain crazy in the work out room downstairs. I sure hope no one else is in there this morning. We have lots of connecting to do.
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| Posted by Jenny Finn at | | | |
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| A dear friend stopped by today with a bag of stones. She hand paints stones as her creative gift and brought me a bunch with the word "peace" on them. I will be spontaneously hand delivering them around the world, along with prayer flags created by my artist friend in Maine. She collects words of blessing from people around the country and world, and weaves them into flags. How blessed am I to have such a loving, generous and risky! community. When my friend came by, she left this poem with me..life wide open. Semester at Sea, world, here we come....
Living Wide Open
I will not die an unlived life.
I will not live in fear of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days,
to allow my living to open me,
to make me less afraid
more accessible,
to loosen my heart until it
becomes a wing, a torch,
a promise.
I choose to risk my significance, to live so that
that which came to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom
and that which came to me as blossom
goes on as fruit.
Dawna Markova
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| Posted by Jenny Finn at | | | |
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