So, what's spiritual direction, anyway?

Sunflowers, Late September (detail), ©Sukie Curtis, 2011


So, what's "spiritual direction," anyway?

Spiritual direction is collaborative, personal detective work, or like a treasure hunt in which the treasure to be found is you--and the Spirit who dwells in the depths of you.

It is giving ear and voice to the conversation that your life keeps inviting you to have.

How is spiritual direction different from life coaching?

"Spiritual Direction" is the old-fashioned name for a practice that has been around for centuries (perhaps even millennia!) and yet is very, very contemporary. I think of spiritual direction as the ancestor of the much newer field of life coaching.

Both take place largely in the collaborative work of conversation--listening, asking questions, finding answers, focusing, zeroing in, listening some more, trusting the process to lead where it needs to. One-on-one consultations take place either in person or over the phone.

While the focus of spiritual direction is most often described in terms of one's own relationship to the Spirit, to God, or the spiritual dimension of life, I approach both life coaching and spiritual direction from the perspective that the primary focus is the client--her experience, her questions, her hopes, dreams, likes and dislikes, passions and fears. It is in those realities, not somewhere else, where the Spirit, the creative energy of life, or the "God who dwells within," is met and experienced.)

Spiritual direction is usually a long-term relationship, and sessions usually take place once a month. Life coaching may be more intensive, with more frequent sessions contributing to the support and momentum for reaching one's goals.

In addition, coaching enlists helpful tools to further focus on identifying and articulating goals and the inner resources one has for meeting them as well as the process of naming and being accountable for the steps to get there.

Compassionate support and accountability are part of both processes. Your own focus, desires, and intention--how you imagine what it is you are looking for--more than the name of the process, are what matter most. Simple practices, writing exercises, or other forms of homework also support the work.

Unlike many coaches out there, I don't promise to "change your life in six weeks!" and I don't follow a prescribed program. But I know that the work we can do together really makes a difference to help you hear and respond to what "calls" to you from within your own life and beyond it.

Who am I?

I was first trained in spiritual direction in 1990 and have supported women through this work ever since. My understanding and approach to the process have evolved considerably over the years. I am a former Episcopal priest; in 2008 I followed my own soul's "calling" to leave ordination behind after 24 years of ordained ministry. In addition to my work as spiritual director and life coach, I am a painter, writer, nature-lover, wife and mother.

I bring my painter's eye, my curiosity and keen observation, my poet's ear for language, my creative mind and playful spirit to the collaborative work of spiritual direction and life coaching. 

I draw from centuries of spiritual wisdom of various traditions as well as from the wisdom that arises between us as we work together.

I will help you hear your soul's unique language so that you may live more fully from your own truth, delight, and freedom.

To explore either spiritual direction or life coaching, I invite you to call (207-781-7320) or email me (sbcurtis@maine.rr.com) to set up a consultation of up to thirty minutes at no charge.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Progress Report: What do you do?

I realized this morning with a small jolt and a sliver of regret that yesterday was an important personal anniversary for me and that I'd forgotten to mark it in any way. I hadn't paid much attention to the date, and it just didn't really sink in until today.

What anniversary? The third anniversary of my "leap to freedom," otherwise known as the day I renounced my ordination and returned to the ranks of the vast majority of humanity as a blessedly ordinary human being.

On the first anniversary of this occasion, I chronicled the days before and after my renunciation ceremony in several different blog posts. There was the famous (and perhaps my favorite) story of the Two Books, and the story of The Day After.

Last year I told a fuller yet still condensed version of my journey from childhood to ordination and out the other side when I spoke one Sunday afternoon at the Cathedral Church of St. Luke in Portland. I posted the text of what I shared that day in four installments, each of them titled, "Upside-down and Inside-out." Here are the links to parts Two, Three, and Four. Just in case you are new to this blog, or you feel like reading what I wrote a year ago.

So, here I am, three years out of ordained ministry, and what do I have to say for myself? Where has the journey taken me?

There are so many ways to answer those questions, and I'm going to respond by answering still another question--one that I believe I've posted about before. The question I have most dreaded being asked (even more than the "Why did you quit the priesthood?") during the months of these intervening years. That most dreaded question has been: So what are you doing now? or, more simply, What do you do?

It's a question that has often found me feeling inadequate, even ashamed of my seeming lack of progress toward any sort of clear new "identity" to replace the one I had given up. By identity, I guess I mean "professional identity"--otherwise known as an occupation, a career niche, or even simply a temporary job, like, "I'm a barrista at Starbucks" or "I am working the phone bank at L. L. Bean."

There have been many times when I've felt that anything, any one clear specific answer would be better than the vague, amorphous nowheresville that has been my deep down, frank reply. "What do I do?" I ask myself, wait a few heartbeats, and come up empty. Then make up something to cover up my shame and embarrassment--either a lame joke or my best and clearly unrehearsed babbling answer. (The singer-songwriter, blogger, and women's coach Christine Kane once said that when we're in those in-between places, the ego, ever vigilant and out to protect us, is apt to advise us loudly and clearly: "Quick! BE SOMETHING! Anything! Anything's better than being nothing!" It takes great fortitude not to obey.)

Funny, I've often not felt that painting was a legitimate part of the answer, even though painting is something new, something joyful and energetic and true that has entered my life since leaving my ordination behind. (My painting life began in earnest barely a month before my ordained life officially ended.)

But things started to shift last fall. I at least began to have a rudimentary answer to the "What are you doing these days?" question. I gave myself a little preamble about living a "patchwork" life, stitching together a couple of different avenues of work for which I'm paid--some consulting, some writing, some spiritual direction, and my painting. That at least felt truthful and got me off the starting block, though my answer at times was still rather mealy-mouthed and apologetic.

When I told a friend of mine just after Christmas that I was "kind of a spiritual director and kind of a life coach," she said in her lovingly, humorously honest way, "You might want to sharpen that up a bit."

Little by little, sometimes feeling as if I'm clawing and scraping my way along a sheer rock face, I think I'm getting somewhere. Getting closer to being able to answer with wholehearted integrity-bordering-on-enthusiasm. My attempts to practice and hone an answer feel more genuine and less driven by ego-panic. (It's always easier in the privacy of my own writing than in the face to face moment. Guess I need to keep practicing!)

So here's where I am today in answer to the hypothetical question: What do you do?

I do many things! But I feel hugely blessed that I especially enjoy doing two kinds of work: First, I'm a painter, and I love giving people experiences of delight and celebratory energy through my paintings. And second, I'm a spiritual director and life coach, and I love helping women to connect more fully to their inner wisdom, truth and authority. I love helping women to listen for and pay attention to their soul's language and longings, to claim their passions and power, set goals and take the steps to reach them.

What a difference three years can make!

Ben Franklin: first American life coach

I noticed the other day in my blog's list of "Blogs I enjoy" that it had been four weeks since Maira Kalman's last blog, which quickened my pulse and my delight-meter since that meant there would be another one soon! But then I forgot (something about being in an aircast with a stress fracture has distracted me).

So this morning, doing my quick check of the New York Times in my email, there it was! And my heart leapt! I'm not exaggerating.

This month's installment in her series "And the Pursuit of Happiness" is called, "Can Do." And it does not disappoint.

It starts and spends lots of intriguing time with Ben Franklin, then hops into the wider world of inventiveness--Thomas Edison, Daguerre, and then to a jello-mold competition! How Maira Kalman gets around! And thinks to combine so many things in one episode.

One of the things that really struck me, in addition to all the delightful and playful surprises, was the description of Ben Franklin's outlook and daily practice, which, in addition to his "Poor Richard's Almanac" with its sage wisdom and advice, leads me to name him the first American life coach, a couple of centuries before the term ever existed.

Kalman writes: "He believed in doing good. Every day. He made charts and had daily goals."

Check out the printed chart (no doubt set and printed by him or at least by his printing company) of his daily practice. It includes: "The morning question: What good shall I do this day?"

And the morning schedule, beginning at 5 a.m.: "Rise, wash, and address Powerful Goodness."

Stop right there! Did you catch that? "Address Powerful Goodness." Does that sound rather new age-y, or what? Franklin, one of our founding father non-theists (I do believe he was not alone), each morning addressed Powerful Goodness.

And his morning practice goes on from there: "contrive day's business and take the resolution of the day; prosecute the present study [whatever that means! I'd love to know what he studied in the mornings, before breakfast]; and breakfast."

Or in today's coaching lingo--he set his intention for the day and clarified his goals and priorities.

And then there's the end of the day. "Put things in their places, supper, music, or diversion, or conversation; examination of the day." Sounds quite lovely. No TV. Music, or conversation, or...diversion!

And the evening question: "What good have I done today?"

And then, at 10 p. m., sleep.

Enjoy her blog. I know you will. I've barely scratched the surface. And of course, I've said nothing about her delightful illustrations, so you get to enjoy those on your own.

Here's to Happiness

OK. I'd like to begin the new year with a confession: about a month ago while browsing the website of Martha Beck, a best-selling author and life coach, I followed a link to a Martha Beck-certified coach who was offering free "Happiness Lessons" (www.takehappinesslessons.com ). In a playful and curious mood, I signed myself up, and eventually two of my old friends (whose names are my safe with me) signed up too. 

"Happiness lessons?" you may be asking yourself. "Has Sukie gone totally off her rocker?" (Or perhaps you're thinking, as the neighbors say of Mr. Plumbean in Daniel Pinkwater's book, The Big Orange Splot,  she has "popped her cork, flipped her wig, blown her stack, and dropped her stopper. . . gushed her mush, lost her marbles, and slipped her hawser.") Perhaps I'm overplaying this a bit, but I couldn't pass up a chance to quote Daniel Pinkwater.

What occurred to me as I signed up for "happiness lessons" was how truly against the grain of my upbringing  it was--that is, within the context of good old New England, Anglo-Saxon, stiff upper lip, always put others before yourself, being and doing good are more important than being happy ways of thinking and being. And that doesn't even begin to touch on some of the more painful contributions of the Judeo-Christian tradition in general and of Christian theology in particular to the topic of happiness and suffering. 

Let me say simply that it felt almost dangerous to consider taking happiness lessons, as if I might be putting my soul in mortal danger (even though that's more of a Roman Catholic sort of category than a Unitarian Universalist-turned-Episcopalian one). At the very least it seemed somehow borderline shameful, shadowy, a little bit "New Agey," flaky, and without doubt self-serving or self-centered or self-indulgent or some other self-word-combination. As if that's about as bad as bad can be! 

In an act of extreme courage (which is often hard to distinguish from craziness), I even put myself out there cyber-wise as the leader of a local "happiness hub," not having a clue what that might mean, but thinking it might gain me access to some kind of bonus lesson or something. What it did gain me was an inquiry from another area resident who turns out to be a master certified Martha Beck life coach--so I really did get "some kind of bonus lesson" in a form I never could have anticipated. More on that another time.

Not long after, I was continuing to read Martha Beck's book Finding your own North Star and came across the following paragraphs:

"I once gave a speech to a group of devoutly religious women in which I stated my belief that all God really wants from us is an unshakable commitment to our own happiness. I could tell the audience was shocked by this comment. After the speech, several women commented that I'd gone a bit too far, and one said I should be 'dragged away in chains.' These women seemed to share a religious belief that suffering is the way to paradise, while the road to Hell is paved with happy times.

"If you believe the same thing, I encourage you to put down this book and pick up one of those cute little whips with razors embedded in them, because you're not going to find any support for your world-view in these pages. I don't believe in suffering for its own sake. Enduring a thankless, painful life doesn't mean that you deserve happiness as a kind of recompense; it just means you're enduring a thankless, painful life. If I'm going to suffer, it better be for a damn good reason. It better yield me more joy than it costs. If not, I will do anything I can to avoid it, and I advise all my clients to do the same.

"This is a profound sacrifice for the martyrs among us."

Clearly this is a large topic, and one that I believe to be worth unraveling fully in due time. But for now, I want to state that I hereby declare, for 2009 and beyond, my own "unshakable commitment to my own happiness." To be committed to my own happiness means, among other things, that I am not expecting or passively hoping that someone else will take care of that for me. It means giving up trying to manipulate someone else into doing that, guilting someone else into doing that, or otherwise, through all sorts of well-tried, devious and indirect means, roping someone else (or Someone Else, e.g, "God") into being responsible for my happiness. 

And on the positive side, it means continuing to learn and to practice (and practice,  and practice, and practice again) paying attention to what's going on in my head and in my body. To afford my body some much overdue respect and honor and affection as my most trustworthy, God-given teller of the truth about what delights me and what drags me down; about when I need to rest, when to eat, when to get outside and breathe fresh air; when I need to be alone, and when to join the party; when I want to laugh, when to weep, when to dance, when to sing. And then to dare to follow its instructions! And usually that means noticing and then ignoring or hushing up a lot of prim, judging, fearful, cautious,  and sometimes downright nasty "voices" in my head telling me why I should do just the opposite.

So here's to happiness! My own, and yours, and to the increasing happiness of an increasing number of people around the planet. 

P.S. In case you're still really worried that "claiming happiness" is brazenly and unforgivably selfish,  or that a commitment to your own happiness will turn you into a self-centered brat with no thought for others, I have two suggestions. First, if the word "happiness" makes you flinch, (as I'm afraid I still do sometimes when I hear someone say, "the very purpose of our life is to seek happiness"), try substituting "contentment." Maybe contentment sounds like a deeper, more grounded, less happy-in-a-bouncy-kind-of-way state of being, and maybe that makes it a little easier for you to contemplate. Second, look at the Dalai Lama: he sure looks like a happy guy to me, and yet he is clearly anything but a self-centered brat lacking in compassion or concern for others. And he is the author of that conviction I alluded to above, "that the very purpose of life is to seek happiness." 

Well, how 'bout that! 

Happy 2009.