Listening for the big, swirling questions
Adulthood, women's spirituality, and leaning into curiosity as we enter a new year
This may sound silly, but when I was a kid, I had this idea that adulthood was a static experience. For some reason, I believed that by the magical age of eighteen, I would not only have it all figured out, but those things I’d figured out would be with me for at least the next sixty years or so.
I believed adulthood was a place I would arrive. I believed that one day, I would simply possess all the security, confidence, and purpose needed to lead a good and faithful life.
Obviously, I was mistaken. As we enter another calendar year, and with the lovely age of thirty-three right around the corner for me, I now know that adulthood is anything but static. Security, confidence, and purpose come and go like the tide. Some days, I’m able to ride those waves. Other days, those waves completely topple me and I’m left on the brink of drowning.
I didn’t know it was going to be like this.
As I sat my altar this morning, praying through a passage of Scripture and sitting with a couple of tarot cards to drive the images home, I felt myself start to settle into the mystery of it all. The mystery of life, I mean. The general unknowing. Every day, some new experience, conversation, or activity disrupts what I thought I knew, or trusted, or believed, and I’m left with a whole new set of feelings, questions, and ideas to sort through.
For example, Alex and I visited a new church this past Sunday. I haven’t consistently attended church in years, for various reasons, and find myself generally content to wake up slowly on a Sunday, have a good breakfast, journal, read, bake, or play outside all day. For me, a slow day at home with my loves and on our land is more than enough. But it was Christmas, so we got up, put on our Sunday best, and made our way to church.
This particular church was very different from any type of parish I’ve been to in the past. The liturgy was very structured, the choir sung the entire time, there were priests and robes and icons galore. The people were lovely, welcoming, and so kind. There were children everywhere, which was sweet to observe. There were chairs for sitting, but some folks elected to sit on the floor. It was beautiful and kind of messy in the best way. But in addition to appreciating the beauty of it, I also felt disoriented and frustrated.
After we left, Alex and I talked through the experience. We discussed what we enjoyed about the service, as well as what we found confusing and challenging. Through our conversation, I realized what was stirring up so much frustration in me. As beautiful and good as the service was, I’m at this place in my life where I simply can’t hold space for spirituality defined primarily by men. I mean this in the least academic and intellectual way. I’m not talking about an ideological culture war here. That ain’t it.
In the deepest, most embodied, time immemorial way, I am longing for spirituality defined by women.
I’m curious about women’s stories of mystical encounters with the Divine. I want to be held by Mother Mary and guided by Teresa of Ávila and Julian of Norwich. I want to meditate on the blackness of the womb that birthed Christ and I want to contemplate the tender body that nursed the Divine. This is where I’m at. It’s not to say that we won’t go back to that church; I think we will. The point is that this moment of frustrating disorientation uncovered in me a new world of growth, learning, exploration, and change. It’s an evolution I didn’t even think to pursue. Adulthood—this dynamic, difficult, uncontrollable experience, has struck once again.
It will be a new calendar year in a matter of days. The church experience I just described plus the longings it amplified in me, have me wondering what it might look to forego the usual resolution-setting and to instead set my attention on the big, swirling questions that are making themselves known? This longing for spirituality defined by women is a big, swirling question for me. It is speaking loudly through my emotions, in my body’s reactions, and in my conversations with loved ones.
What big, swirling questions are making themselves known to you?
The questions might be related to spiritual matters of identity, growth, frustration change. Or they could be more material in nature, related to your vocation or where you live. The questions could be tied to a pain point in your life, maybe a loss you are grieving, or a relationship ending, or a hope that has gone unfulfilled. What might it look like to hold these questions as we enter the new calendar year, with openhandedness and curiosity?
Resolutions are great. I love goal setting, vision casting exercises. I believe in the power of imagination and intention. But as we’ve already established, life is full of experiences we can’t see coming and outcomes are largely out of control. But questions have a spaciousness about them. Questions are inherently invitational, and if well crafted, they have a way of welcoming mystery and possibility.
What might it look like to have new year questions, instead of resolutions? Or in addition to resolutions? Food for thought.
If you are curious about the women’s spirituality thing, seriously hit me up via the comments or email because I’m leaning way into this in 2023 and would love to journey with you.
If you’re not curious about it, no problem. I’m so glad you’re here and would love to learn more about the big questions that are stirring in you. Please share a comment or email me to let me know what’s on your mind.
Happy New Year, Dear Ones. Be safe, be well, and know that you are loved.
I will catch you here in 2023!