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Dear reader,

Maya Angelou wrote, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you. So, first, I want to offer you words of support and encouragement as you come to terms with your own untold story. I know all too well the pain and complexities of dealing with issues related to spiritual trauma and how challenging the recovery process can be. Please know that you’re not alone. 

Exploring and confronting your wounds can be painful and formidable work, and I deeply respect your inner strength and determination in beginning this process. I avoided dealing with my own spiritual wounds for far too long.      

Despite what some experts might have you believe, there is no magic formula or precise recipe to follow on your healing journey; it’s a deeply personal process. It’s likely that you’ll occasionally feel overwhelmed and uncertain as you do the work required for healing. It’s helpful to remind yourself that your feelings are normal and understandable during these times.

Someone once observed that recovery is never linear, meaning it doesn’t occur in a straight line from pain to healing. Instead, it’s a long, winding spiral of growth, self-discovery, and reclamation. You begin to retrieve those parts of yourself that got left behind, like your capacity for joy, optimism, self-confidence, and self-love. Have you ever noticed how small children can be full of themselves in the most delightful way? There was a time very early in your life when that small and exuberant child was you. 

And while it’s true that your past religious experiences may continue to fester and plague you, they most definitely don’t define you. You have within you the ability to shape your future, honor your truth, and embrace your authentic self, although you might not believe this yet. For now, please be gentle with yourself. You deserve compassion and kindness. I urge you to treat yourself as you would a close friend who is going through a difficult time.  And so, how about considering doing the following?

Reach out to friends, family, and or support groups for reassurance and perspective.

Sharing your experience with others who understand can be incredibly therapeutic. A healthy community can validate your feelings and experiences and provide valuable emotional support. Group members have often faced some of the same challenges you now face. Connecting with people further along in their healing process can inspire and encourage you. In turn, offering others your insights and support is both gratifying and empowering.        

Consider working with a therapist specializing in spiritual trauma and recovery.

Experienced and empathic therapists can assist you in navigating the complex psychological and emotional challenges that often accompany spiritual trauma and abuse. A competent, caring therapist also provides a much-needed place to feel safe, validated, and understood as you begin the vital work of healing.   

Make your health and well-being a priority.

Most survivors of trauma aren’t particularly good at this at first. Work on giving your body what it needs to thrive, feed your soul, and take time for yourself. Do things that bring you pleasure and peace.

Begin establishing clear boundaries with people or situations that trigger painful memories or emotions.

Practice saying, “No.” I’m guessing that this will be incredibly uncomfortable at first. It’s unlikely that you were encouraged to communicate your needs and set limits while growing up. And yet, both are essential to protecting your time, emotional well-being, and energy.   

Learn as much as you can about spiritual trauma and recovery.

“Knowledge is power” isn’t just a tired old cliche. It’s plain and simple truth. Trauma is often isolating, and learning about the common symptoms, beliefs, and behaviors associated with spiritual trauma can help you feel less alone. It can also assist you in better understanding your experiences, locate resources for healing, reclaim your spirituality, and reduce your risk of further trauma. 

Celebrate your progress, no matter how modest.

Healing is a long and often arduous process. Acknowledging your progress can help you stay motivated and hopeful. Recognizing how you’ve grown increases your self-esteem and fosters your sense of strength and resiliency.  

Give Yourself Permission to Heal

Giving yourself permission to heal may seem like a strange suggestion. After all, why would you need permission? Because I suspect that you probably received indirect messages such as you’re a sinner, not good enough, or not worthy of love and acceptance. These messages tend to live submerged within your unconscious, making it difficult to believe at the deepest level that you deserve to heal. You may also carry a significant amount of guilt for disappointing your family or leaving your spiritual community, regardless of the harm it may have caused you. Perhaps the threat of hell or Armageddon keeps you frozen in fear. And (or) you may be afraid of the unknown and what it will mean to let go of what has occupied such an immense space in your life for so long? How will you fill the gaping void? Can you now appreciate why you might resist healing even though you desperately want to? We’re strange and complicated creatures, you and I. Capable of sabotaging ourselves and acting against our best interests. We’re also extraordinary in a vast number of ways. 

You’ve endured so much fear, pain, and confusion throughout your lifetime, and yet you’ve survived it all. You, my dear reader, are a walking, talking miracle who most definitely deserves to be healthy, happy, and whole. You’re capable and worthy of creating and embracing a rich, fulfilling, and meaningful life. It’s simply waiting for you to move toward it…

With heartfelt love and longing,

Tammie Fowles

Web Resources on Healing and Recovering from Spiritual Trauma and Religious Abuse

Spiritual Abuse Resources

Resources for Religious Trauma and Adverse Religious Experiences

Spiritual Harm and Abuse Scale

Recovering From Religion

The Hope of Survivors

Spiritual Sounding Board

Hello Again

I watched an excellent video today by one of my favorite wisdom seekers – Gabor Mate. Daniel Mate, his oldest son, accompanied Gabor. The two focused on the relationship between adult children and their parents, providing insights for both. If you’ve never listened to Gabor Mate before or read one of his books (or even if you have), he and his son are well worth a listen. Daniel and Gabor have written a soon-to-be-published book together, “Hello Again: A Fresh Start for Parents and Their Adult Children” and will be producing a podcast as well.

I watched an excellent TED talk this morning by Caroline Myss that I encourage you to check out. Here’s one of the gems that she offers, “Every single choice we make is either going to enhance the spirit or drain it. Every day, we’re either giving ourselves power or taking it away.”  And here’s another, “Never blame another person for your personal choices – you are still the one who must live out the consequences of your choices.”

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

“Under a sky the color of pea soup
she is looking at her work growing away there
actively, thickly like grapevines or pole beans
as things grow in the real world, slowly enough.
If you tend them properly, if you mulch, if you water,
if you provide birds that eat insects a home and winter food,
if the sun shines and you pick off caterpillars,
if the praying mantis comes and the ladybugs and the bees,
then the plants flourish, but at their own internal clock.
Connections are made slowly, sometimes they grow underground.
You cannot tell always by looking what is happening.
More than half the tree is spread out in the soil under your feet.
Penetrate quietly as the earthworm that blows no trumpet.
Fight persistently as the creeper that brings down the tree.
Spread like the squash plant that overruns the garden.
Gnaw in the dark and use the sun to make sugar.
Weave real connections, create real nodes, build real houses.
Live a life you can endure: Make love that is loving.
Keep tangling and interweaving and taking more in,
a thicket and bramble wilderness to the outside but to us
interconnected with rabbit runs and burrows and lairs.
Live as if you liked yourself, and it may happen:
reach out, keep reaching out, keep bringing in.
This is how we are going to live for a long time: not always,
for every gardener knows that after the digging, after
the planting, after the long season of tending and growth,
the harvest comes.”

by Marge Piercy, From Circles on the Water, Selected Poems of Marge Piercy

For Kevin, my husband, and for all of those who’ve felt trapped in a world that was too small for them.

Photo by Hanawasthere on Pexels.com

What do I see when I peer into the mirror? I see change. I see experience. I see the Byram eyes. I see the wrinkles around my mouth. Age spots. I see a neck that is crinkling and lines in my forehead. I don’t see ‘me.’ At least the person in the mirror doesn’t feel like me. She’s not the woman that I saw for most of my adult life. She’s not the pretty, soft eyed woman that could turn heads. The one who seldom wore makeup and simply trusted her natural beauty. In all honesty, while not quite a stranger, this creature who looks back at me and whom I recognize as me still seems somehow unfamiliar. I most definitely haven’t caught up to this face yet.

This woman in the mirror doesn’t appear as approachable as the one that I had the luxury of taking for granted for so long. She doesn’t look as soft or as gentle as the one who lives inside of me. This one looks like she’d probably suffer no fools and would tolerate no back talk.

I direct her to smile, and she immediately obliges. Still, no matter how hard we try, she and I, that smile doesn’t convince me that she’s, well, truly me. Could this be what experience and life wisdom does to a face? The question surprises me. After all, it’s been my lifelong mission – the acquisition of wisdom. Am I offering up a psychic trade? Beauty for wisdom? Or maybe I’m merely acknowledging a simple truth. You don’t get to approach wisdom without traveling a significant distance, suffering lots of fools (including your own foolhardiness), and encountering (and even embracing) so many (often painful) opportunities for growth. And all of those take a toll on a face.

What kind words can I say about this face before me? If I’m truthful, I need to admit that no such words come to mind at the moment. Clearly, I haven’t made peace with this face. I miss the old one. I really miss the old one. And yet, I prefer this version of the woman who claims the face in my mirror. She’s so much happier and, yes, wiser than the younger, prettier one.

And now I gaze at the woman looking calmly back at me, smile at her warmly, and send her love.

I’ve decided to write a quick list of what makes me happy. Here goes:

What makes me happy?

Clean cotton underwear

Clean sheets

A freshly cleaned house

The smell of coffee in the morning

The smell of lilacs in May

The smell of apple crisp baking

The wind calling the waves onto the shore  

Trees gently dancing in the breeze

That same breeze caressing my face on a hot day

The astounding colors of Autumn

A bright and brilliant starry night

A field of wildflowers

Grapenut hot fudge Sundays with extra nuts

The cry of a loon on Pocasset lake

Floating in Mill pond

A stroll through Detweiller’s or Trader Joes

A meditative walk at Thorncraig

Perched on the rocks at Reid

A good book

A delicious meal

An uplifting lecture   

My daughter’s face

My grandchildren’s delight

My son-in-law’s laughter

My husband’s embrace

A heart to heart talk

A visit with a dear friend

A snuggle with a happy dog

Communing with a butterfly, a bird, a tree

A full refrigerator

A full bookcase

A full moon

A full heart

What makes you happy?

What Gives Me Hope

Photographer Rosie Kerr

In preparing for “Meeting 2021 with Gratitude, Hope, and Intention,” a brief workshop that I’ll be offering tomorrow, I came across a poem that I’d written in the early spring of last year when we’d lost 46,000 to COVID-19.

Today it’s official, 400,000 have now lost their lives to COVID, and it strikes me that while there are over 350,000 reasons more to despair then when I wrote the poem, we also have so very many reasons to hope.

What Gives Me Hope

“The old Maple outside of my window has started to bud,

And the loons have begun their lonely calling.

There have been muskrats spotted coming out of their dens,

and the red-winged blackbirds have returned from southern skies.

Spring keeps her promise once again this year,

that what appears dormant or even dead  

can rise again.

And yet not one of the more than 46,000 Americans

lost to COVID in these last days of winter

will be returning.   

Still, while the death toll rises,

from Florida to Thailand

endangered turtles have built more nests

on the beach than in the past 20 years

and dolphins swim  

in the canals of Venice.

Italians serenade one another from their balconies

and stuffed animals, candles and images of rainbows

are placed in windows for the world’s children.

Hundreds of Thousands in Europe

form a volunteer army sworn to

soothe, feed and comfort both neighbors and strangers.

And though COVID-19 makes it harder to breathe,

satellite images reveal that folks

in Italy and India can breathe easier.

A Spanish Doctor pleads for letters

to encourage and soothe the ill

and the dying,  

And to his amazement,

tens of thousands of them come pouring in.   

Young children in cities who have never seen the night stars

gaze up in wonder at them now.

Coyotes wander down a Chicago street.

And on the 50th anniversary of Earth Day

a young Indian boy who has never ventured beyond his village

encounters the Himalayas, long obscured by smog, for the first time.

And so, while I sit in the dark holding despair in one hand,

as the days lengthen and the warmth returns,   

I cradle hope in the other.   

                  Tammie Fowles

I don’t believe that I’d be exaggerating when I claim that 2020 has been the most challenging year in the lives of so many of us around the world.  In the United States, tomorrow marks the beginning of a new year, one that is predicted to lead us initially into even greater peril – a “dark winter.”   This ominous warning stirs up more than a little unease inside of me, as I have never been particularly comfortable in the dark.  And so I gently remind myself that there is a significant amount of growth taking place in the darkness and that beginnings and endings are always intermingled. 

I’m meeting this new year with more than a little bit of anxiety as well as a determination to step over this annual threshold with more appreciation and intention than I have in years past.  Appreciation for so many of the gifts that have accompanied the anxiety, heartache, and restrictions of 2020, and intentions that will hopefully enable me to move through 2021 more consciously and with deeper gratitude.   

There will be no new year celebrations with friends and family tonight, and that’s not only the result of  the sane and responsible decision to socially distance, it’s also in response to my need to journey deeper into my life than ever before.  With well over 300,000 American lives lost to COVID (and climbing at a horrific rate), it feels only fitting that I hold my own more closely and live it more deliberately. 

I began my preparations for New Year’s Eve with a long and meditative walk along the Androscoggin river, a walk that Gunilla Norris might call a ‘soul- walk’ where we “bring along a good question, one that cannot be answered immediately.” 

Upon returning to my warm house, I played Windham Hill music, lit a candle and incense, and settled in with my journal, being mindful of another of Gunilla Norris’s assertions that “tucking a good question into your heart is like having a faithful friend.  It will keep asking you to grow and to discover what you somehow already know at a deeper level.  It will open you to yourself.”  And so, I asked myself the following questions: 

What was the overall theme of the past year?

What risks did I take?

What did I give to others?

What was I given?

What do I want to release?

What lessons did I learn?

What did I learn about myself?

What lessons do I most want to take into the new year?

I also created a vision board to capture my intentions for 2021, a visual map to hang on my wall to remind me of what truly matters,  and what I most want to cultivate and embrace in the coming year. 

Tonight I’ll spend some time with my journal once again, committing my intentions to paper, asking myself even more questions.

What will be my ‘word’ for the coming year?  A word that Christine Valters Paintner suggests might “nourish me, challenge me, a word that I can wrestle with and grow into.”  A word that can serve as a companion and guide during the months ahead. 

What’s something that I really want to do this coming year?

What’s one thing that I would really like to learn?

What’s one small act of self-care that I am ready to add to my daily life?

Who are the people that I truly want to spend more time with during this next year?

Who do I want to support more this coming year?

Who do I want to make sure I thank?

What is one thing that I want to add more of during the coming year?

What message does my wise self most want me to carry forward during the coming year?

Tomorrow I’ll be joining a group of incredibly special women on Zoom, women who’ve met each and every New Year’s day for thirty years.   While for the first time, we won’t be spending time in one another’s physical presence, we’ll still connect to each other in a beautiful and meaningful way and will carry significant messages for the New Year away with us when we part.

And finally, I’ll re-read one of my favorite poems written for a New Year by reverend Jan Richardson.

The Year as a House: A Blessing

Think of the year
as a house:
door flung wide
in welcome,
threshold swept
and waiting,
a graced spaciousness
opening and offering itself
to you.

Let it be blessed in every room.
Let it be hallowed
in every corner.
Let every nook
be a refuge
and every object
set to holy use.

Let it be here
that safety will rest.
Let it be here
that health will make its home.
Let it be here
that peace will show its face.
Let it be here
that love will find its way.

Here
let the weary come
let the aching come
let the lost come
let the sorrowing come.

Here
let them find their rest
and let them find their soothing
and let them find their place
and let them find their delight.

And may it be
in this house of a year
that the seasons will spin in beauty,
and may it be
in these turning days
that time will spiral with joy.
And may it be
that its rooms will fill
with ordinary grace
and light spill from
every window
to welcome
the stranger home.

Rev. Jan Richardson

Wishing you so very many blessings…

Tammie Fowles    

Oh, by the way, you are warmly invited to join me on January 6, 2021 from 6:30 pm eastern standard time until 8:00 pm to explore how you might best fully inhabit 2021 with gratitude, hope, and intention.  You can join us on zoom by clicking on the following link:

Meeting 2021 with Gratitude, Hope, and Intention

Or, copy and paste the following into your web browser:

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/81670604379?pwd=Z09iUHVqNDhCNHl6TDdhbXFrcXU0dz09