I love the shape of things. I will be attracted to a vase or a teapot based solely on the shape of it. I have always been a visual person and being drawn to something based on its shape is nothing new for me. Heck, I can even like the way words feel based on the shape of them as they come out of my mouth.(Try to say the word 'orb').
A few days ago I had an appointment with my priest, who is also my spiritual director. I am new at doing this as Thursday was our second monthly meeting. Last month he helped me sort through my thoughts and feelings surrounding my friend's death. I had no idea what we would talk about this time but as in most things spiritual, I just show up and trust that God will work out the rest. (Do I have 'sucker' stamped on my forehead?) I did print out a few of my blog entries so that I could share them with Father Charlie. Feeling free to do that tells me we have built a certain level of trust. Sharing my writing with someone I know feels risky. It's almost like having a baby wrapped in a blanket and uncovering its face and saying, "See, isn't she pretty?" and opening myself up to affirmations and naysayings, not knowing in advance who will say what. Very few people who know me, know about my blog and even fewer know the address. The post he read this week was Of Sawdust and Icons. He read very slowly. Ugh, the agony of wondering what he was thinking. If there was a job to be had where one could climb inside another person's brain I think I would apply (I know, I know, it's called Neurotic Mother.)
He laid the papers down and started asking me questions. We talked about how it felt after I had written a post. Of how vulnerable a feeling it was to spill my guts but also the satisfaction in writing something that was born from authenticity. I said sharing my writing with him was a way of saying "This is who I am." That particular post spoke of fears. I hadn't intended for it to be the fodder for our time together. Never saw it coming. He asked me if I could see my fears what would they look like? A picture of a rock came into my head as he was asking. He asked me to describe it - what shape was it? It came to me as an egg shaped rock. Was it smooth or rough? Smooth. Warm or cold. Warm. Heavy or light. Light. Big or small. Small. What did eggs symbolize? Life. New life.
We then spent some time talking about my life and what is going on in it. I felt most comfortable telling him it all. I was also there to celebrate reconciliation so I held nothing back. Tears and realizations but mostly such an incredible feeling of hope permeated even the ugliest of happenings in my life. Things I have done that have been hurtful to others, to myself, to God. He was able to see such hope where I saw only pettiness.
One of the assignments he gave me was to reflect on what was being reborn in me....what the egg shaped rock was symbolizing in my life.
That is when I remembered that just before I had come to his office I had been shopping. I walked into a small gift shop and was immediately attracted to a small pottery like container. It stood only 3 and a half inches high, had that brown green colour of some pottery, with a lighter coloured interior. I liked the shape of it. I looked throughout the whole store and found nothing else that caught my eye like this vessel did. As I returned to it I told the sales lady that I had no idea what I would put in it but I just liked the shape of it. At $4.50 it was a good deal so I brought it to the counter. As she was wrapping it she told me it's shape was called an egg cup. The last of its kind in her store.
After I left Father Charlie's office I went and bought a bag of big polished rocks and a bag of small ones to fill up the egg cup and surround it. Not quite sure what is incubating in my life but it feels full of hope.
"I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh." - Ezekiel 36:26