Traveling Light

All of us have every day life lessons we hold dear from our parents. Many of us pay our bills, do our laundry or cook in the same methods our parents taught us, at least by example. I fold towels and make beds using the same technique as my mother. I wipe counters down in the same sweeping gestures, using a paper towel to catch the crumbs, the way my dad did. I have a filing method identical to theirs, though I have to admit that I'm not as meticulous in my administration skills. I answer the phone with the same cadence in my voice, and often use the same word choices they might have used. I have comparable sets of strengths and weaknesses. And yet, when it comes to packing a suitcase, I couldn't be 'less' their child. My mother and father had packing lightly down to a science. My father, never the most patient man when traveling and never one to waste time in any area of his life, insisted that they each bring one carry on bag to any destination. He was convinced that on no trip would anyone every need more than he could carry on a flight. Although Dad has since passed away, Mom continues in this admirable and simple packing method. I have never seen my mother look out of place, lacking in some way or otherwise unprepared on a journey. So, where did I go wrong?


I seem to have missed out on both the nature and nurture of this critical skill. However, my husband, though not a blood relation to my parents, seems to have inherited the trait. He teases me about the amount I will pack for one night away. I believe I have packed more for an overnight than he has packed for a week. Will he be less prepared than I am? Will he be missing a critical pair of shoes during his time away? It has yet to happen. I can fill a steamer trunk for a weekend away, and still not have exactly what I need, when I need it. I own one of the largest suitcases made, and have to be extremely careful as I pack it now, because of the new weight restrictions. I can easily stuff my Brontosaurus on wheels with shoes, skirts, sweaters, jewelry, back up shirts in case of spills (likely in my case) and outerwear to the point of bursting. I travel with a veritable pharmacy of allergy medicine, skin cream and Advil, never knowing what I will need when I need it. Knowing that I bring everything but the kitchen sink (though I admit I did pack the Quesadilla maker for a ski trip), I would be exceptionally well prepared for any eventuality. So, why is it that I have a suitcase full of everything, but nothing that works on my trips?


I have traveled to Arizona with the Winnebago bag filled to the point of worrying about the zipper busting open. On arrival, and for the remainder of my trip, I have worn clothes out of my mother's closet. I have gone to California to visit my cousin, confident that I would be right at home, and have needed her to run me to Macy's upon arrival. I have learned, by process of "What doesn't work" that I know exactly what I need to bring on a trip, and seem to gravitate towards packing the exact opposite. And yet, I'm working on my "travel survival without errors" artistry. My daughter, who has inherited the adroit equipment attribute, is teaching me. As I prepare for an upcoming week away, she is helping me put multiple, appropriate outfits together, using a minimal number of pieces. I'm learning that 'more' doesn't mean 'right', and that a suitcase filled with single wear pieces isn't helpful. I'm discovering that just because I own 28 pairs of shoes does mean that all 56 must travel with me like children. It's still very difficult for me to narrow down, make multi-tasking choices and be brutal in my assessment of needs. But, I'm trying to make a valiant effort to streamline this process to allow me to bring just one carry on bag. The reward at the end? No long wait at Carousel B, no missing luggage reports to fill out, and no more bruised shins from slamming the suitcase version of King Kong into my legs.


As I prepare for both my upcoming trip, as well as this blog piece, I realize how much of life is easier if we travel lightly. The more metaphorical baggage we insist on carrying along with us, the more weighed down we will be. As we tote our emotional loads, we become overwhelmed, exhausted and unprepared for the reality of our day's adventures, because we're so bogged down in the past. It's very difficult to let go of this baggage. For many of us, the burdens we bear are at the very heart of who we are. The pain in our lives, for good or bad, has shaped us into the people we are today. And yet, by continuing to drag that heavy, imaginary Samsonite case everywhere we go, we miss out on the chance to create new memories, experience different things and be open to new possibilities. We're so filled with the past, there is no room for the future.

My best advice is to find ways to let your heaviness of heart dissipate. Using meditation, prayer, exercise, journaling or just casting your cares on the wind, you can release them with full knowledge that you don't need carry them any longer. You can talk to friends, write articles or hike those troubles out. They're only weighing you down. They do not help you on your journey. They just take up space. Much like a suitcase filled with inappropriate clothing, a heart and mind packed with frustration, sorrow and bitterness will only make you feel worse about the way you travel through life.


As I attempt my vacation with just one carry on, I look ahead with a lightness in my heart and a spring in my step. Will I miss something? Probably. Will it be the end of the world? Absolutely not. I will learn to adjust and make do...and hopefully have a much easier time along the way.

Down by the riverside, I laid my burdens down, Now I'm traveling light, My spirit lifted high,I found my freedom now And I'm traveling light.... Billie Holliday

The Simple Things...

'"Tis the gift to be simple,'tis the gift to be free,'tis the gift to come down where you ought to be,And when we find ourselves in the place just right, It will be in the valley of love and delight." ~ Elder Joseph Brackett, jr., "Shaker Hymn"


The first lines of the hymn quoted just above are among my favorite, not just among songs sung in worship, but of inspirational poetry, as well. Written in 1848, this hymn is relatively new in the grand scheme of Christian worship songs. The Shakers were considered radical, even by their founding denomination, the Quakers. Therefore, it's all the more extraordinary that this beautiful song not only made its way into most Protestant hymnals of all denominations, but became a popular melody for other pieces, including Aaron Copeland's "Appalachian Piece". The simple, inspiring, deeply moving beauty of this song has brought it lasting fame. Additionally, the additional lyrics, which speak of friendship, understanding, compassion and utterly unadulterated joy, resonate with mainstream society today, as much as they must have in the Shaker community in Alfred, Maine, in the mid-19th century.


One of the most common conversations I have with both my yoga students, and my friends, recently, has been a longing for a return to the simple things in life. Although very few want to renounce all their wordly possessions and join ashrams or monasteries, all yearn for a time of uncomplicated lives. Some dream of the carefree days of childhood in which there was nothing more pressing than riding bikes or catching fireflies. Others are beginning to find that technology, designed to make life easier, has actually increased stress and demands on their time. The sad fact is that life has become increasingly demanding, difficult and drama-filled. We spend our days running from place to place, we live in fear of losing our jobs and our homes. We read books about decluttering our homes, and yet, we think we need more to fill the void. We worry about our children's exposure to the ugliness of life, long after they have been desensitized through years of television and movies. We find ourselves running on a hamster wheel every day, never getting ahead and always feeling as we need to stay on that wheel...or something dreadful will happen. It becomes a never ending cycle.


The sad truth is that we are our own hamster wheel. We wake up every morning, and we climb onto that circle and we begin to run...and run. We make that choice of our own volition. While we can blame society all we like, we choose to check email ten times a day and we choose to create drama in our lives, where there needn't be any. There are stresses we simply can't avoid. We have to work to pay our bills, provide for our families and put food on the table. But, we can choose to release those areas in our lives that simply aren't working for us with any benefit. We can decide to walk away from unchangeable, unmanageable situations. We can say "no" when we want to. I have a wonderful friend who had a great deal of trouble not agreeing to volunteer for every job she was asked to do. She became very close to burn out in all areas of her life from spreading herself far too thinly. So, she came up with a response that would keep her from feeling rude, and yet, would get her off the hook. When asked "Will you run this program this year?", she smiled kindly and said, "No, but thank you very much for thinking of me."


"No, but thank you very much for thinking of me" has become one of my mantras. I, too, have been a 'helpaholic'. When asked to step in and assist, I generally do agree. Why? Because I do believe in service to my community. The question is knowing how to pick and choose, and when to say "When". Simplifying our lives does not mean relinquishing all of our commitments. Some of them are critically important. Where would the world be if everyone said "No!" and stayed home? The trick is finding that all important balance of what we can do to benefit others, our families, ourselves and our communities, without risking our own well being in doing so. There is not a magic formula for this balance. Some people have a higher tolerance for multi-tasking than others. But, for everyone, taking the time to pause, to truly consider all the possibilities before agreeing to a job (or saying "No, thank you") can give you the much needed moments to discover if the position is viable. All too often, we are pressured into making an impulsive decision on the stop. After years of agreeing immediately, I've discovered that, in 24 hours, or even in 12 hours, my choices are more sound and I have fewer regrets in either direction of a decision.

Simplicity is not as easy to achieve as it can feel when we're yearning for it. The truth is that we like our computers, we like our stylish clothes and well running cars and we like our modern amenities. Even those of us who set simplicity as a goal find ourselves pulled towards 'keeping up with the Joneses'. For many people, myself included, this is far less to do with envy, and far more to do with admiration. We see something we like, from a convenient kitchen appliance to photos from a restful, but beautiful, trip, and we think "Wow! That looks amazing! I want that too!". We come to realize that in making our lives simple, we still create more work. Making our peace with the idea that simplicity doesn't always equal ease is a crucial concept. In Yoga, one of most basic asanas is also one of the most challenging. Staff Pose involves sitting upright, with flexed feet and long legs in front of your body, and a straight back. The yogini's head is pulled in alignment with her spine, and her goal is to create a perfect L with her body. As basic as this may appear, it actually involves an enormous amount of concentration and core strength. Our first impulse is to slump forward. Then, we want to bend our legs and our head will naturally weigh our neck off balance. Even in this seemingly uncomplicated pose, we find we must work very hard to achieve our goal of balance.


Simplicity can mean a variety of things to a variety of people. It might mean letting go of areas in our lives that are doing more harm than good. It could mean changing our behaviors to find joy in smaller achievements, rather than enormous ones. It could be as genuine as "just saying no". It might mean reevaluating our priorities. Or, it might be a question of releasing negative emotions. Does it mean we must relinquish our lives as we know them? Of course not. But, it might take some clearness of thought to illuminate ways to help ourselves become happier. The goal of the Shakers wasn't to deprive themselves and to be miserable. It was to eliminate distractions so that they could more clearly see the Light. I hope that, in your own quest to simplify, your path will be gently illuminated, as well.

The County of the Pointed Firs

Years ago, I was at the beach with my friend, Kelley and all of our young children. We had a beautiful day for a picnic, and as the little ones scampered about our feet, picking up shells and sea glass (and too many small crabs for our comfort), Kelley and I had five minutes peace to talk about the books that had meant the most to us in our lives. Kelley's suggestion for a book she had loved was "The County of the Pointed Firs" by Sarah Orne Jewett. At the time, I was hooked on mystery novels, simply because solving a unexpected occurrence seemed to engage my brain more than playing play-doh with my toddlers. I picked up a copy of this novel, but it sat on my nightstand for years.


By the time my preschool addled mind was ready to engage in real literature once again, I remembered "The County of the Pointed Firs" and happily inhaled the story. The beautiful, moving, troubling and uplifting series of stories, linking the lives of Maine women in a remote, far northern town, "The County of Pointed Firs" described a Maine with which I'm unfamiliar. Living on the coast in a travel destination resort community, the Maine I experience daily, and the rural Maine of the late 19th century felt as they were two different places. The deprivation, the fear, the commitment to the land and the sacrifices of the women in this novel were as removed from my own life on the Maine coast, as life on another planet might be. I enjoyed this novel not only because of the exceptional narrative, but also because of the exquisite portrait painted of a specific place and time in Maine's history.

As I've reread this book many times, I was always struck by its description of a Maine of long ago. However, I have come to see that the Maine described in "The County of the Pointed Firs" is alive and well...and far to the north. My daughter was recently at a soccer camp in Presque Isle, Maine. This is nearly as far north as it's possible to go and still remain in the continental United States. My husband brought our daughter north, and I was scheduled to retrieve her when camp was over. Having never been north of Bangor, I had thought I'd been "north" as defined by my own landmarks. As comfortable as I am with driving to Boston or New York, the thought of traveling, for hundreds of miles, with nothing but woods around me was a little unsettling. I passed Bangor believing that I was leaving the gateway of civilization, as I knew it, behind me. I wasn't far from wrong.


For 2 hours of my five hour drive, I saw nothing but forest. The highway rolled on, and the cars became fewer. The miles ticked away and the small towns gave way to vast stretches of nothing but woods and streams. The villages themselves stopped having names. As I continued on my trek north, the roadside signs read notices like "Now Entering T-1 9-6". The hamlets were reduced to bearing numeric monikers. Although I've lived in Maine, off and on, for much of my life, I had never been this far away from the restaurants, shops, culture and people with which I was familiar. It felt as if I'd left this century altogether, and was entering a land forgotten by time completely. The magnitude of the sprawling ranges of pine trees and mountains was extraordinary. When I caught my first glimpse of Mt. Katahdin, I was overwhelmed. I felt exceptionally blessed to be at that very place, at that very moment.


As my drive continued, and I emerged on the far side side above the Maine North Woods, small towns began to take shape. They themselves look as they were living piece of history. Modern conveniences and amenities were nowhere to be seen: just hardworking farm families, eking out a living in an area that felt like no-man's land. Aroostook County doesn't feel like the more populated areas of Maine, but nor does it feel like Canada yet. The region contains its own stories, its own history and its own dynamic that is far different from the rest of New England. It struck me as being the very land, right out of Sarah Orne Jewett's "The County of the Pointed Firs", didn't feel as if it had changed bit since Jewett wrote the novel in the late 1800's.

My trip north was an inspiration. It showed me that hardy people can create thriving communities in harsh environments, but these people must depend upon each other in every way possible. It taught me that ways of life are still being preserved in our ever-shrinking global society. It humbled me to realize that there are people who would rather have peace and quiet and live off the land, than cable television and elegant restaurants. While I am honest enough with myself to know that this lifestyle is not within my comfort zone, the trip gave me a feeling of pride to live in such a state that embraces diversity of lifestyle choices. The thought of families keeping their land for generations, despite harsh winters and unpredictable summers, filled me with awe. It also made me understand that, despite living in the same state, the Maine in which I live, and "The County" are more complexly dissimilar than I had ever dreamed possible.

As I drove the long road home, I couldn't help but be reminded of Sarah Orne Jewett's words, "“In the life of each of us, there is a place as remote and islanded as the county, and that we choose to give to endless regret or secret happiness.'” I am filled with hope that I can choose happiness over regret. After seeing the tight knit communities to the north, I realize how much of who we are depends upon our choice of vision, and not of our own circumstances.

Veruca Salt vs. Charlie Bucket

"But, Daddy...I want an Oompa Loompa NOW!" ~ Veruca Salt, "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory


One of my all time, hands down, absolute favorite movies is the original movie rendering of Roald Dahl's book, "Charlie & the Chocolate Factory". Although I respect Tim Burton's vision of the more recent take, the original film, starring Gene Wilder, is one I can watch again and again. I know most of the lines by heart, and probably could recite everything, including singing the songs. It's a film of which I never tire. Perhaps it's because I first saw this movie at an impressionable age. But, I believe the fact is that the Willy Wonka story speaks through stereotyped characters. The protagonist of Charlie Bucket is the essence of all that is good, sweet, kind and thoughtful. The other childrens' characters represent a sampling of the Seven Deadly Sins: Augustus Gloop (Gluttony), Violet Beauregard (Pride), Mike Teevee (Sloth & Lust for television) and of course, Veruca Salt, who is the epitome of Avarice, or rather, Greed, as we say in today's culture. All the characters were on an archetypal Hero Quest. But, only worthy Charlie is deemed suitable the true victor and he who is most deserving of praise.


And yet, through most of the film, the most compelling character to me was not Charlie, who bored me, or even mad, brilliant Willy Wonka himself. It was Veruca Salt, the Empress of "I want it now", the poster child for spoil divas everywhere and the embodiment of all things Envy. I honestly believe that, in a battle of wills, Veruca Salt could "take" nearly every other fictional character. Her single minded determination to have exactly what she wanted, when she wanted it, reminds me of the financial crisis our nation is facing today: we all wanted it "now", and unfortunately, our financial situation, in a global sense, cannot support this. Instant, demanding and unrelenting personal gratification was the core of Veruca Salt's character, and it's the root issue of why so many people were living beyond their means: we were told we COULD have it now, we needed it now, and we wanted it now. There was no 'let's think about it' nor did the words "let's plan and save" come from Veruca Salt, or our consumer driven economy.


I am far from perfect in this respect. Like Veruca, and partly why I believe I identify with her on one level, is a desire that all would be well if only I had "the perfect dress" (or shoes, or sofa). This is a struggle that I've been working on for many years, and the vice over which I'm gaining mastery. It is not an easy one. Just as Charlie, with his unfailing compassion and love, represents everything I'd like be spiritually and emotionally, Veruca represents everything I need to struggle against. Gluttony hasn't been my personal 'deadly sin', nor have any of the others. My struggle has been against a greedy, needy wretch. I may think I have my internal Veruca submissive and under control, until I see a fabulous bag in the Bloomingdale's catalog and I can hear her voice in my head saying, "Ellen, I want that Chanel purse NOOOOOOOW". Thankfully, I have learned to develop tools against my inner Veruca. I have learned that, if I like something, I will like it just as much in a few weeks. If it's a passing phase I'll lose interest. I've learned to simply say "no" to that desire for possessions to make me feel exceptional. I'm struggling against still drooling over the things I admire, but I'm making excellent progress. In short, I've learned to distinguish between needs and wants. Just as our country is coming to grips with this same lesson, I'm finding that I've already fought this battle, and am learning along with everyone else.


In my yoga classes, we practice cultivating our highest selves, and being appreciative of where each of us is on our yogic journey. When I first began taking yoga classes 10 years ago, I found myself feeling frustrated that I couldn't "do" all of the asanas that more experienced students could practice with ease. I looked on with absolute avarice at students who want do a back walkover into Wheel Pose. Not only could I not move backwards into the pose, I couldn't even come into the pose the 'simple' way: by moving from the ground up. There was one student in particular on whom I looked on with unabashed envy; she was 20 years older than I was and simply eased her body into the pose as it was the simplest action in the world, while I was still struggling with holding myself in the barest hint of an inverted position. Gazing over at her with greed, I wanted what she had: I wanted to be able to move over into Wheel without effort. I kept imagining hateful things about this woman, who had never been anything but polite to me. During one class, she came over to me, and seeing that I was struggling, offered to show me how she learned to practice Wheel. I kept looking at her face, searching for an ulterior motive. I couldn't find one....I simply saw a kind person, who was showing me compassion upon watching my struggle. She taught me how to walk my hands backwards down the wall, to help stretch my back, as I drew my body down into the pose gradually. I was shame-faced. She had shown me great friendliness, and I had been nothing but Veruca Salt to her.

None of us are perfect. We all have our private (or public) demons to cast off. You may find that you see more Mike Teevee in yourself, or Augustus or Violet. Like me, you may have to battle your inner Veruca Salt. But, if we can set a goal to reach a level of pure kindness and generosity of spirit, like Charlie, we'll find that we are well on our way to being free..."if we truly wish to be".

The 5th of July

Freedom is the oxygen of the soul. ~Moshe Dayan



Independence Day has always been one of my favorite holidays. Growing up with a father passionate about the 4th of July helped me to see the day with eyes to appreciate what an exceptional holiday it is. James Blaine once wrote, "The United States is the only country with a known birthday." Although other countries would beg to differ on this point, the fact remains that the 4th of July is a time for all Americans, whether descendants of those who signed the Declaration of Independence to those only recently embracing citizenship, to stand together, in celebration for our country's uniqueness. Our ideal of freedom and equality for all people make us a leader in the world...not just in might, but in our vision of all people having a voice to be heard. On the 4th of July, we stand together, passionately American. We have family gatherings, barbeque's, picnics, parades, town fairs, and of course, fireworks. Under the canopy of those extraordinary explosions, we can celebrate the birth of country, and feel a connectedness to our nation and to one another.



But, the question begs to be asked: What happens on the 5th of July? Do we remain united in our compassion towards all Americans? Do we embrace the ideals of freedom and unity? Do we keep that spirit of a truly United states alive? Or, do we fall back onto negative behavior patterns for the other 364 days a year? Do we keep brotherhood and sisterhood alive and well all throughout the year...or do we fall prey to squabbling over political parties, agendas and divisive attitudes of superiority?



As a passionate reader, I have always loved series of books.This isn't simply because of my enjoyment of literature. I adore knowing what happens "next". As a child, I was not content to hear the words "And they lived happily ever after." I wanted to know exactly what action took place next. Did Cinderella and Prince Charming truly live happily ever after, or did they have arguments over what to do with the castle? Did they have children? What ever became of the wretched stepsisters? What about the fairy godmother? Does she remain a part of Cinderella's life? We'll never know, because the story simply ends on Cinderella's personal Independence Day. We don't know if she grew disheartened in her life, or if the stepsisters learned from their experience to treat others with kindness and dignity. We are never told if Prince Charming is a good father or if the kingdom appreciates their new Princess. We don't hear about the day "happily every after" begins. One of the reasons I've enjoyed rereading the Chronicles of Narnia over the years is because the series of books gives the reader enough time to discover everything about the characters, the world they inhabit and to bring the series to a firm conclusion. Every story needs an ending...either one that the reader is meant to discover on her own, or what that is resolute and final.

With this idea in mind, I invite you to explore your feelings about the 5th of July. How can we continue to breathe the very air of freedom in an often quarrelsome nation? What we can do, personally, to protect our freedoms and appreciate the contributions that others may make? Can we find paths around discord into true unity? I believe we can, and that we already have the skills to do so. We simply forget them. We go to sleep on the 4th of July, as one, and we wake up on the 5th as partisans. We need to maintain that 4th of July spirit, not by our nationalist words, but by our meaningful actions. The manner in which we speak to one another, how we treat people we may disagree with and how we embrace all elements of freedom can create a far greater sense of true patriot unity than one day of fireworkds. The best preservation of freedom, in my humble opinion, is by appreciating it, and protecting liberty for all citizens...not just those we happen to agree with.

By not just celebrating the 4th of July, but by celebrating our Independence on the 5th of July, and the 6th of July, and every other day of the year, we have the ability to find out "what happens next" in our nation's ongoing history. America did not begin and end its story that day in Philadelphia. It has begun its story every morning since thathen. Let's not gloss over what comes next by saying "And America lived happlily every after". Let's embrace making those words come true.

HealthyFellow.com

All too often television news, sound bites, newspaper pieces and magazines will be dedicated to one area of health. These pieces can impart incredibly important information, and keep the public informed. However, far too often, each medium will focus exclusively on one specific methodology to overall wellness. A blog that I came upon recently, creates a new genre for keeping the public informed on all areas of well being. From the truth about garlic as a healthful supplement to the affects of Tai Chi on diabetes, Healthyfellow.com, gives a wonderfully impartial, unbiased overview on many different approaches to wellness. Each post offers some thoughts, ideas and good, solid facts about achieving one's health goals. Additionally, Healthyfellow.com explores options, such as alternative methods to self care for breast health.

As a yogini, good health is very important to me. But, as a cancer survivor, my health is not something I take lightly, or for granted. One of the aspects of Healthyfellow.com that I find the most helpful is its take on looking at holistic medicine, rather that strictly keeping its information allopathic. A balanced approach, looking at every possibility that is best for one's personal location on life's health journey, can be extremely beneficial. An uninformed patient has no idea what her options are. A well educated patient can better make the best choices for her care and for her life.

Lastly, another reason this blog found its way to a meaningful place in my reading schedule is that it debunks holistic health myths. One area that is rampant with untested theory and unproven tricks to heal is in the natural foods and health industry. I am passionate about natural, whole foods and naturapathic health. However, when something is not a product that 'works', it should not be touted as such. I believe these 'snake oil' tales do more to harm the reputation those of us interested in natural medicine than anything else. By looking at what works, and what simply is untrue, Healthyfellow.com takes an honest approach in a sometimes dishonest industry. I applaud them for their hard work and efforts, and I will continue to be a faithful reader.

Please click on THE TITLE above for a direct link to Healthyfellow.com.

The Shack

Earth's crammed with heaven,

And every common bush afire with God,

But he who sees, takes off his shoes;

The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

It isn't often that a fictional story can weave exceptional theological, spiritual and literary threads together to create both an interesting read, and a work of spiritual growth. I had read countless reviews for William Paul Young's controversial book, "The Shack", for months before reading it. There were readers who felt it changed their lives miraculously for the better. There were others who believed the book was heretical and dangerous. There were many people who found themselves deeply comforted, and others who found a more exceptional and extraordinary meaning to their walk with the Divine. Still, there were those churches and lay Christian groups who spoke passionately against the premise of the novel, and urged all not only to boycott it, but to ban it from libraries and bookstores. Because I'm a woman of strong beliefs in my faith, as well as a woman of strong convictions against book banning, I was very curious about "The Shack". Would I be offended? Would I be horrified? Would I have a miraculous transformation for my belief system? Would this book create a "Road to Damascus"moment for me, in opening my eyes to greater understanding of God?

In the novel, Mack is a grieving, bitter and understandably shaken father, who lost his precious youngest child to an insidious serial killer, who murdered Missy at a remote shack. After turning his heart away from his surviving children, his wife and his friends, Mack sinks into an understandable, but deeply troubling depression. Mack is angry at God, angry at his own sense of guilt and angry at a world in which vicious crimes against the most innocent can occur. When Mack receives a mysterious note to "Meet Papa" (his code word for God) at The Shack. Mack doesn't believe that God will truly meet him at this symbolic and wretched location. But, Mack does pack up and go, not sure what his actions will lead once he arrives. Mack's journey is nothing short of awe-inspiring. Instead of staying in deserted, crumbling shanty in the darkest depths of winter, Mack awakes to a light filled, beautiful cottage on a stunning autumn lake. And God is making Mack breakfast.

"Papa" doesn't appear as the tremendous Anglo-Saxon judge of the western perspective. He's not an old white man with a beard. Papa appears to Mack as a beautiful African-American woman, whose love radiates from her smile, her eyes and her glowing skin. In my own mind, as was reading this novel, I pictured Queen Latifah as playing this role. However, as with any good work of fiction, the reader is free to 'cast' the characters in her own mind and heart. As we come to know Papa, Jesus (a Jewish carpenter from the middle East) and the Holy Spirit (an Asian woman, who is light of heart), our ideas of exactly what Christianity, faith and personal opinion hold are challenged. Mack is met by the Trinity, but it's a Trinity with whom he can relate, of whom he's not afraid and by whom he doesn't feel betrayed. Mack's quest to gain closure regarding Missy's death opens doors to him to help him realize that God is far greater than any given preconceived notion that humans have devised. Mack is met by God, but not the God he was expecting....Mack was met by the God he needed to see: the loving, healing, redemptive, compassionate and unexpected Divine. Mack was looking for anger, but what he found was forgiveness and blessing.

Mack's journey, in "The Shack", is the archetypcal heroic quest. Just like Homer's Odysseus, Tolkein's "Lord of the Rings" hero, Aragorn, Shakespeare's Hamlet, and countless others, Mack must go on a journey...literally and metaphorically. The heroic quest is defined as "as much a physical journey as it is an emotional and spiritual journey and a journey toward self-knowledge.", according to Joseph Campbell's excellent paper, "The Hero Journey". Mack must separate himself from the 'real' world, he must be given a 'call', he must reject the call, he must cross the threshold, he must endure trials, and he must return triumphant. "The Shack" takes the reader through each of these stages, but in unique and spiritual ways. Mack finds the unexpected, he dismisses it, he struggles against it, he comes to terms slowly with his journey, and he returns to his own world, still saddened, but healed. Where was a frozen, barren shack, transforms into a beautiful dream cottage.

I have long believed that although my Judeo-Christian traditions 'view' God in one way, God is far too large to "put in a box" containing the opinions of a group of men from long ago. God is transcendent beyond any labels we can try to fix on Him. God is not limited, but is limitless. Just as God has the exceptional power to transform "my mourning into joyful dancing. You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy." (Psalm 30:11), God has the power to transform the Divine image into what He sees in our hearts that we need at this moment. God can speak to us through our friends, through our family, through books, and through strangers. God is not confined to being an old man in white robes with a long flowing beard. By that definition, He is confined to the image of Tolkein's "Gandalf" or Prospero from Shakespeare's "Tempest". God is Divine and consistent in the love, compassion, devotion and unbridled healing that is available to us. But, what does He have to look like? I believe that the very nature of the Divine makes that question irrelevant...or relevant only to each one of our needs. God does not change. But, He meets us where are...and who we are...in order to reach us.

"The Shack" is a tremendous book. I highly recommend it. If you find it offensive or divisive, I beg you to ask yourself 'why?'. Although I did not experience a miraculous conversion, as St. Paul did on his own version of the heroic quest, I can say that "The Shack" broadened my imagination, and opened to my heart to ideas I had already experienced as truth. I hope that you will read this book and gain insight into your own journey.