At SGTI, we encourage our students to express their learning in creative ways. Today, we gladly offer this series of poems by one of our current students, Katie Spero. We are grateful for her permission to post them. Enjoy!

Estimated Time of Arrival
 
she starts to notice shoulders under a t-shirt in front of her
the atmosphere breathes his body out 
and it expands
breathes him in and it contracts
that one too
and the woman standing
grabs a seatback as the bus jolts 
green light
in 
pause
out 
pause
the voice wants to know
how can I love myself
when I am myself
who is breathing us
loving us
with life
 
who am I 
pause
I breath it in
it’s swept away 
silent nativity
sojourner
with a place to land
 
who is next in line to be loved
 
 
Don’t Give Away the Ending
 
An old couple walks onto the bus
Sit across from each other
Then next to each other
Then a few rows back
Whispering silently under the loud hum 
She sips water
I am thirsty
We are all a part
Apart is the illusion
Two small boys with big hair like me
Stomp up the two stairs towards the back of the bus
They shout observations 
A car with people in it
A car radio
"Right Leo?"
It sure is right
It is all right
Everything is part of the poem
 
The Watcher
 
The ego
picks up a pen.
It disappears
and I awake. I fall asleep
and it disappears.
 

As people on a dedicated spiritual path, we are always trying to do our best. We are not perfect people, but we are vulnerable human beings who play multiple roles and are beyond busy, so there will be times when we are off-balance and errors are made. Things said. Situations or people neglected. At times we may feel less than kindly toward ourselves— self-critical, judgmental, or disappointed. 
 
Feelings such as these keep us separated from our innate peace. It is wise for us to remember that mind states like these are sourced in the ego—our small, immature, wounded self—and that when we hold on to them, we perpetuate our own suffering. The opposite of the virtue of peacefulness is aggression. When we entertain thoughts and feelings that demean the reality of our basic goodness, we are at war with ourselves. 
 
When this happens to you, take a deep breath and make an adult-sized promise to yourself: a promise to thrive and be gentle with yourself. Feeling closed down, irritated, struggling with something you’ve said or done? Stop what you’re doing and open your heart to yourself. 
 
Place your hand over your heart. Feel the warmth of your hand covering your heart.
 
With the inhale, breathe in understanding, With the exhale, breathe out concern.
 
Breathe in self-forgiveness. Breathe out your disappointment in yourself.
 
Breathe in a feeling of kindness. Breathe out relief. 
 
Continue in this way until you return to a feeling of equanimity and balance. Rest in spacious awareness and trust that all is well. 
 
Receive what your wise self knows: You are a good person.
 
Receive what your faithful heart says: You are doing the very best you can.
​

©2015, Janice L. Lundy
Excerpted from Portable Peace: A Weekly Guidebook

One of the most painful twists of living in the era of COVID-19 is that, in the midst of so much trouble and uncertainty, we have been largely unable to do the first thing we humans do in times of crisis: turn to each other. Gather. Our inner wisdom knows, instinctively, that other people are the place to go for help and holding, for grieving, for hope. 
 
Yet the situation we find ourselves in turns this all on its head. So many of the places we might normally find our particular slices of community—houses of worship, workplaces, schools, gyms, arts venues—remain closed. We know that staying in our homes when possible is itself an act of care, that obscuring our smiles with masks when we must venture out is love in action. Some of us have had no choice but to continue to report to work, or have kept working out of a sense of duty. Many have gathered in protest, affirming that systems of racist oppression are also a pandemic urgently in need of our collective attention. But most of us, most of the time, are living in worlds that are much smaller than the ones we knew in early March. Our hearts bear the weight of all that is missing. Our hearts bear the weight of all we have lost.  
 
It is in this climate of isolation and heightened emotion of all kinds that I recently embarked on a small project of communal care. Spiritual direction training formally prepares us to offer guidance in one-on-one and group settings. Over time, the practice takes on a life of its own, finding new forms in the checkout line or the waiting room or, in this case, in a repurposed tree branch propped up by the street alongside some blank notecards, markers, and a poster posing a set of questions: 
 
How do you feel?
What do you miss?
What do you need?
What is your wish for or promise to others/our city/the world?
 
I set these materials out in front of my home one morning, hopeful that the invitation to share would be of service. Before long, I looked out my window and saw the first response fluttering in the breeze. Soon there were many others. People stopped to participate, to read, and to talk to one another about what they were seeing. Responses have ranged from hopeful to despairing to deeply spiritual. 
 
Here’s what I hear as I listen to this project: 
 
Children miss their routines, and they really miss their friends. 
Adults miss theirs too, and the family they can’t visit.
People are keenly aware of their need for physical touch. 
Some people are lonely and frightened. 
Some people find cause for hope in this time of slowing down and reconsidering. 
A number of people are attuning to issues of racial justice and resolving to help make change. 
It matters deeply to people to feel a sense of community. 
 
As of this writing, the tree is still up. When I walk outside to check for new cards, holding them tenderly, reading them like small prayers, I feel my breathing deepen and my heart expand. Here is tangible, incontrovertible proof of the thing we are all a part of, and always will be, no matter what. As isolated as circumstances might lead us to be, we are not ever alone. 
 
Amen. 
​

~ Kitti O'Hallaron
Her services and writing can be found at thresheld.com

Here at The Spiritual Guidance Training Institute we assist our students in developing "sacred listening." One of the tools we use to do so is a unique protocol developed by Dr. Janice Lundy called "Pure Presence™." The methodology and practices  are intended to open one's heart to listen to others in ways that  are "pure"—  without bias, judgment, or hidden agendas. This allows us to transcend religious doctrine, cultural prejudice, or anything that could keep us separated from our fellow human beings. It enables us to create a space for connection and healing to happen within a spiritual guidance session. 

We could say that we at SGTI are trying to foster "hearts as wide as the world." In our final learning module with Cohort 1 students we explored this concept, and invited them to share their understanding of "a heart as wide as the world." This is what one of our students, Jeffrey Phillips, wrote: ​

​“The heart of the world” – what is that?  Is it the social world misshapen by structures and systems that seem unchangeable, and that, more often than not, go unnoticed by people who have been taught to not see and question unjust schemes?  Is it the world itself – beautiful, dying, the original body of God?  Is it the world of creativity, imagination, science, curiosity, discovery, spirituality, primal experiences, social bonding, sexuality, and the arts?
 
Or it is God – that which beats (like a heart) at the center (the heart) of all things?  The goodness, the joy, the love, the moral imperative to care?  Being, Consciousness, Existence, Spirit, Mystery, Eternity – experienced in shared, sacred story, symbol, rituals, concepts, and completely unorthodox (“profane,” “secular”) and unexpected numinous, luminous places, people, and circumstances?
 
How does one listen to that Heart?  By taking time in the daily practice, by stepping outside the ordinary routines to attend the festival of a different social group or take a new course.  By paying attention to your toothbrush – really looking at it for the first time!  By sitting when you could be busy.  By resting when you could be working.  By savoring a conversation, a meal, a day. By being when you could be doing. By reading a poem slowly – really chewing on it - rather than reading the news.  By “praying the news,” and considering those stubborn social systems and the suffering they inflict on innocent folk.  
 
And then by reflecting on that toothbrush-looking, that sitting, that being, that soulful reading, that news praying.  And doing it again the next day – or doing something completely different.  Or maybe by approaching a daily practice with no agenda at all other than to Be Open, and to see – and hear! - what happens in the moment, in the here, in the now.  I have learned that this last year and a half.

As I sit in the non-violent communication (NVC) training, I am pondering any difficulties that I have with anyone who is not like me.  I ask myself if there are individuals or groups of which I’ve made “static assessments” or written off because their differences seem too great for me to resolve.  According to NVC, every action an enemy takes is an expression of feelings and needs.  When my needs are critically unmet, I can make an enemy of others.  Maybe I have lacked in historical competence because I do not know their cultural history.  Or perhaps I lack understanding or hope for change.

Rather than humanizing the other, I have demonized and diminished them, creating distance between them and me.  Accessing empathy and self-empathy lessens the distance and creates connection to meet both of our needs.

Non-violent communication (NVC) was developed by Marshall Rosenberg in the 1960s.  At once a communication practice, a spirituality practice, and a peace organization, NVC is deeply interspiritual.  NVC practitioners see the other as sacred and having dignity; they see themselves in the same way.  They practice mutual seeing – hearing each other at the core – and mutual assisting – giving and receiving without coercion and with freedom and gratitude.