It's been a long time coming -- and a bit of a "learning curve" -- but it's up & running!
Please visit, at:
www.BrainspottingHappens-marthasjacobi.com
or simply, www.marthasjacobi.com
Showing posts with label brainspotting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label brainspotting. Show all posts
6.22.2011
30 years and counting...
I realized, yesterday, that my ordination happened on the summer solstace--the "longest day" of the year-- the day with the most sunlight, in the northern hemisphere. My husband & I joked about what manner of metaphoric meaning might be contained therein, as the 30th anniversary of the ordination came...and went...a moment in time...a moment marking the passing of time...a moment representing more than half of my life-time...
It was a beautiful day in New York: warm, but not too hot, nor humid. Idyllic. A perfect day.
Minstry, however, is not always like that, on the outside. Yet in a deeper sense, it is... Ministry is about being with others in the contexts of their lives. It is about incarnational embodiment of the Gospel. It is about the unexpected popping up in the midst of the ordinary, the hum-drum, the up-and-down days. It is about bath & meal & conversation: font, table, and pulpit. Ministry is about suffering & joy; consternation & celebration; or, in Frederick Buechner's words, about "Comedy, Tragedy, & Fairy Tale."
Thirty years have come and gone since that summer solstace of 1981; it does not seem possible, most of the time. And yet, as I think back, I see faces and remember names, across places & spaces... A child baptized, and buried three months later; another child receiving first communion--soon to be, herself, ordained! ("Grace: God's love given freely." --and if she is reading this, she knows who she is.) I remember the single mom struggling with her four children and living in poverty; I remember the retired church-men (yes, men) gathering to talk and do "handyman" work around the church. I remember the work-release programs of the upstate prisons, and the ministry of hospitality of the Ladies' Aid, the Frauen Verein, and the LCW... the forthrightness of GF: "So, what are you in for?" Inmate: "Manslaughter." GF: "Oh. Have some cake?") ... precious memories, precious times. Thirty years later, new memories are being forged, new relatonships born, nuances of ministry explored...
...like that of having found myself ecclesiastically homeless, in 2004, for reasons far beyond the scope of this blog -- and being welcomed into a new church home, in the city.... St. Luke's, the Lutheran Church near Times Square... first as a member & later, as pastoral associate. Word and Sacrament, there, support and sustain the healing work of pastoral psychotherapy; the practice deepens and enriches the ministry at St. Luke's -- interlocking circles of Word, faith, & grace.
It was a beautiful day in New York: warm, but not too hot, nor humid. Idyllic. A perfect day.
Minstry, however, is not always like that, on the outside. Yet in a deeper sense, it is... Ministry is about being with others in the contexts of their lives. It is about incarnational embodiment of the Gospel. It is about the unexpected popping up in the midst of the ordinary, the hum-drum, the up-and-down days. It is about bath & meal & conversation: font, table, and pulpit. Ministry is about suffering & joy; consternation & celebration; or, in Frederick Buechner's words, about "Comedy, Tragedy, & Fairy Tale."
Thirty years have come and gone since that summer solstace of 1981; it does not seem possible, most of the time. And yet, as I think back, I see faces and remember names, across places & spaces... A child baptized, and buried three months later; another child receiving first communion--soon to be, herself, ordained! ("Grace: God's love given freely." --and if she is reading this, she knows who she is.) I remember the single mom struggling with her four children and living in poverty; I remember the retired church-men (yes, men) gathering to talk and do "handyman" work around the church. I remember the work-release programs of the upstate prisons, and the ministry of hospitality of the Ladies' Aid, the Frauen Verein, and the LCW... the forthrightness of GF: "So, what are you in for?" Inmate: "Manslaughter." GF: "Oh. Have some cake?") ... precious memories, precious times. Thirty years later, new memories are being forged, new relatonships born, nuances of ministry explored...
...like that of having found myself ecclesiastically homeless, in 2004, for reasons far beyond the scope of this blog -- and being welcomed into a new church home, in the city.... St. Luke's, the Lutheran Church near Times Square... first as a member & later, as pastoral associate. Word and Sacrament, there, support and sustain the healing work of pastoral psychotherapy; the practice deepens and enriches the ministry at St. Luke's -- interlocking circles of Word, faith, & grace.
12.10.2008
Advent musings
I like Advent. I like its liturgical color, blue. I like the extra candles, the sense of movement in the church year binding first and last things, endings and beginnings, creation and recreation, incarnation and redemption, story and promise, repentance and hope, sin and grace.
I liked Advent as a child, back when the color was purple. Though I surely did not understand why Advent felt the way it did, I had dutifully learned that Advent means "coming, " and that Jesus was coming. The expectancy of his coming was palpable, at church and at home, despite the competition from St. Nick.
A bit of age has brought me a deep appreciation for the simple complexity of the season. Historically, it's a season of waiting, watching, preparation, penance, and prayer -- all somewhat somber -- but hidden within it, on the 3rd of its 4 Sundays, the color is PINK! And the theme of the day is JOY! "Rejoice, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold your sovereign comes to you..." Already, and not yet.
It's not unlike the therapeutic process. There's a lot of waiting that goes on in it: waiting for clients' timing and readiness, waiting to see "what happens next." Waiting and watching, staying attentive and attuned to clients' deepest sorrows and pain, terrors and rage. Waiting and watching, as their healing process works deep within, with "sighs too deep for words." Waiting and watching, sometimes week after week, even year after year, waiting for the pink to emerge, living in hope for the freedom of the already-and-not-yet healing being wrought, deep within.
And I realize the extent to which EMDR and Brainspotting have taught me how to wait and watch, with patience and curiosity, with humility and steadfastness, whether in the therapy room, or in life. To wait and watch for "what comes next," to receive it for what it is, in open expectancy for all that is to come.
I like Advent.
"Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel has come to you..."
I liked Advent as a child, back when the color was purple. Though I surely did not understand why Advent felt the way it did, I had dutifully learned that Advent means "coming, " and that Jesus was coming. The expectancy of his coming was palpable, at church and at home, despite the competition from St. Nick.
A bit of age has brought me a deep appreciation for the simple complexity of the season. Historically, it's a season of waiting, watching, preparation, penance, and prayer -- all somewhat somber -- but hidden within it, on the 3rd of its 4 Sundays, the color is PINK! And the theme of the day is JOY! "Rejoice, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold your sovereign comes to you..." Already, and not yet.
It's not unlike the therapeutic process. There's a lot of waiting that goes on in it: waiting for clients' timing and readiness, waiting to see "what happens next." Waiting and watching, staying attentive and attuned to clients' deepest sorrows and pain, terrors and rage. Waiting and watching, as their healing process works deep within, with "sighs too deep for words." Waiting and watching, sometimes week after week, even year after year, waiting for the pink to emerge, living in hope for the freedom of the already-and-not-yet healing being wrought, deep within.
And I realize the extent to which EMDR and Brainspotting have taught me how to wait and watch, with patience and curiosity, with humility and steadfastness, whether in the therapy room, or in life. To wait and watch for "what comes next," to receive it for what it is, in open expectancy for all that is to come.
I like Advent.
"Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel has come to you..."
10.20.2008
Brainspotting and the Bishop's Installation
We have (another) new bishop in the Metropolitan New York Synod of the ELCA. He was installed in October, at Manhattan's Central Synagogue -- yes, Synagogue. It is a beautiful and inspiring worship space; the Rabbi apparently has a good and close relationship with a number of Lutheran clergy in Midtown--most notably, Pr. Derr at St. Peter's. Remarkably, the synagogue permitted us Lutherans to hallow the space for Christian worship, including celebration of the Eucharist. Even more remarkably, one of my colleagues remembered that I have a background in dance, including liturgical dance...and with much ambivalence, I agreed to participate.
It was kind of a last minute thing...I wasn't sure until a week before that I'd even be available. There was only one time to see the space, feel the space, grasp the flow of the liturgy and endeavor to get inside the thinking of the worship planners who thought that having dance would be a good idea. A concept & choreography evolved--acknowledging the Ark and the prophetic word of God's salvation, turning and "delivering it" to the people gathered, movement to hallow the space with the sign of the Cross, movement noting the pulpit and brought-in-for-the-occasion-water-bowl for the font, setting of the table, filling the font, and a joyous call to worship, danced in procession.
The catch being -- I hadn't performed anywhere in 5 years; and hadn't done liturgical dance in a good while longer; age has begun to catch up with various parts of my body. I had performance anxiety. What to do? Brainspotting to the rescue.
Brainspotting, a therapeutic modality that bridges the psychological and emotional/physiological, can be used to process trauma and other distresses of life, for strengthening of internal resources, and/or to quell anxiety and enhance performance and creativity. In Brainspotting, a bodily, felt sense of activation is connected with a particular eye position and focus, and processing unfolds from there. Dr. David Grand, its developer, is my mentor, and he has taught me well. He encourages my creativity as a therapist, with Brainspotting -- and without it.
Back at the Bishop's installation. . . "Spirit-spotting" began. I "went inside" myself, to pray, and to ascertain my felt sense of the Holy Spirit within, the Source of all creativity. The felt sense was in the crown of my head, my shoulders, and my breath. Incarnational spiritual resources. I found the eye position that maximized the felt sense of the Spirit, and at once, my heart palpitations released, my breathing became deeper and slower, and I felt a reassuring groundedness. Out into the "chancel" I went, consecrating space, table, pulpit and font in movement. . . then into the center aisle, for the processional. Halfway up the aisle, my eyes made contact with those of Sharon Wilson, a faithful laywoman who works tirelessly for healing for women, especially those who have been abused at home. She was beaming. And I relaxed into the joy of healing movement in that sacred space. I remembered why I so love to dance. Dance is freedom, liberation; full-body worship. It is also hard work, requiring discipline and constant training. And flexibility -- of body and mind.
Flexibility, when the organ improvisation usurps the best-conceived choreographic plan--and calls forth improvisation, or extemporaneous, movement. Sometimes, such flexibility is just plain fun.
The Bishop was installed; the juice and cheese reception was "lovely" in the Citigroup Atrium. And I danced, in spirit, all the way home.
It was kind of a last minute thing...I wasn't sure until a week before that I'd even be available. There was only one time to see the space, feel the space, grasp the flow of the liturgy and endeavor to get inside the thinking of the worship planners who thought that having dance would be a good idea. A concept & choreography evolved--acknowledging the Ark and the prophetic word of God's salvation, turning and "delivering it" to the people gathered, movement to hallow the space with the sign of the Cross, movement noting the pulpit and brought-in-for-the-occasion-water-bowl for the font, setting of the table, filling the font, and a joyous call to worship, danced in procession.
The catch being -- I hadn't performed anywhere in 5 years; and hadn't done liturgical dance in a good while longer; age has begun to catch up with various parts of my body. I had performance anxiety. What to do? Brainspotting to the rescue.
Brainspotting, a therapeutic modality that bridges the psychological and emotional/physiological, can be used to process trauma and other distresses of life, for strengthening of internal resources, and/or to quell anxiety and enhance performance and creativity. In Brainspotting, a bodily, felt sense of activation is connected with a particular eye position and focus, and processing unfolds from there. Dr. David Grand, its developer, is my mentor, and he has taught me well. He encourages my creativity as a therapist, with Brainspotting -- and without it.
Back at the Bishop's installation. . . "Spirit-spotting" began. I "went inside" myself, to pray, and to ascertain my felt sense of the Holy Spirit within, the Source of all creativity. The felt sense was in the crown of my head, my shoulders, and my breath. Incarnational spiritual resources. I found the eye position that maximized the felt sense of the Spirit, and at once, my heart palpitations released, my breathing became deeper and slower, and I felt a reassuring groundedness. Out into the "chancel" I went, consecrating space, table, pulpit and font in movement. . . then into the center aisle, for the processional. Halfway up the aisle, my eyes made contact with those of Sharon Wilson, a faithful laywoman who works tirelessly for healing for women, especially those who have been abused at home. She was beaming. And I relaxed into the joy of healing movement in that sacred space. I remembered why I so love to dance. Dance is freedom, liberation; full-body worship. It is also hard work, requiring discipline and constant training. And flexibility -- of body and mind.
Flexibility, when the organ improvisation usurps the best-conceived choreographic plan--and calls forth improvisation, or extemporaneous, movement. Sometimes, such flexibility is just plain fun.
The Bishop was installed; the juice and cheese reception was "lovely" in the Citigroup Atrium. And I danced, in spirit, all the way home.
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