evocative soul blog

On my morning walk the other day, I expected the usual greetings from passersby: “Hallo” or “Dag” or “Goeiemorgen” in Dutch (Flemish), but I saw nobody. Instead, my local park’s bare trees, trickling with remnants of icy rain, greeted me. Alone in my surroundings, I pushed ahead, my boots navigating a dirt path through the frosty grass.

I listened to the wind whipping through the trees while expecting to see a neighbor or two as I ambled along. The inhabitants of my village outside Brussels have become friendlier since COVID hit our world. Now, you don’t have to own a puppy, or stroll a baby, for people to say hello. Maybe it’s because I’m older, and my lifestyle has slowed down; I blend into this culture better than thirty-four years ago, when I first relocated to Belgium from California.

It’s nice to stop and say hello to others during my early-morning walks. These promenades follow my MPJ (meditation-prayer-journaling) time and get my heart pumping before I spend weekdays at my computer doing what I love: writing and meeting with clients. Like most spiritual directors, I cherish my work. There’s something unique about sharing meaningful time with directees—even some across the world—each month. I love how we get to offer sacred space to them, to help them reflect on spiritual matters—and non-spiritual matters—that crop up in their lives. I appreciate how, through practice, we have learned to open our senses, to observe and receive the many workings of God—or however our directees prefer to name the Divine—as perceived by those sharing these precious moments with us.

I appreciate how we have been trained, either through extensive training programs or years of experience giving spiritual direction, to hold space for our directees. Breath after breath, we remain patient, being with them each month as they navigate the unexpected—and sometimes unimaginable—workings that show up in their life situations, alongside their families, loved ones, and places of worship. Often, tears wet my eyes when I notice glimpses of light and blessings surrounding a directee during a session. I feel the compassion and love shining down on us, together, in moments of grace, lifting the directee’s heart and strengthening their soul, especially in times of emptiness and sorrow. In these moments, my soul grows as well.

As spiritual directors, we are committed to being fully present with our directees during our sessions each month, individually or in groups. We might be referred to as spiritual directors, yet we are more like special companions, guides, helpers, and overall, good listeners, to our directees. We devote ourselves to what we feel most called to do: create blessed space for welcoming all forms of communication—even the most subtle—with God, the Holy, the Higher Source of Wisdom, etc. We offer our directees a deep spaciousness: the opportunity to be unconditionally present with them. This spaciousness, between us and the Higher Source— sometimes referred to as the “third chair” in spiritual direction—allows our directees to feel, notice, and express anything that bears down on their souls and spirits. Then, to conclude our sessions, depending on the directee’s wishes, we pray together, or sometimes remain silent, basking in the gift of what has just transpired.

On that chilly January day as I traversed the park, braving the icy weather, I was in a contemplative mood. I reflected on how fortunate I felt to have been guided by an acquaintance to my spiritual direction apprentice training program, which I had just completed. I had been working with volunteer directees for ten months, from three different continents, and now it was time to launch my spiritual direction practice. I looked at the bare trees for answers. How would potential directees find me?

Suddenly, as I rounded a sizable pine tree, my thoughts skidded to a halt. I heard screams—loud and high-pitched, like a boiling tea kettle. The screams emanated from the skate park, ten feet away. With horror, I noticed a small, blond head, face down, on the cement rim of the skating rink. Heart racing, I ran over to the blond head and yelled, “Alles goed?” (Everything all right?)

“Ja.” Up popped a smiling face. The boy seemed about ten years old. He jumped to his feet, grabbed his skateboard, and proceeded to do a performance fit for a circus. I stood in admiration, watching him. After three precarious loops, he skated up to me, smiled again, and took off.

Like in spiritual direction, our directees come to us with stories—real-life bits of their existence—and we need to be ready. We might hear the scream, smile, heartfelt moments, good, bad, and neutral. That’s why it’s so important to care for ourselves fully, so we can open our hearts, minds, and souls to our directees, and offer them our complete attention. That is the gift of spiritual direction, and the gift a spiritual director receives every time: the fullness of each moment, as it unfolds.

Note: religious traditions across the globe have distinct ways of celebrating their faith. The tradition I was raised in, Christianity, welcomes prayers for love, compassion, and goodwill to all. So does Zen Buddhism, which I studied in Japan, as well as so many others. Prayerful messages like these translate into all world religions, faith traditions, ideologies, and languages. I hope they will help bring peace to all during this time of heightened global conflict.