This Ignatian Life

Ignatian Spirituality in real time
Subscribe

Archive for the ‘Megan's Posts’

← Previous Entries

The Enneagram

February 14, 2010 By: mbensley Category: Megan's Posts 3 Comments →

Every month I gather with fifteen other young adults from the New York City area as part of the Jesuit Collaborative’s Contemplative Leaders in Action Program (CLIA).   The purpose of the group is to lead by reflection.  That is, through prayer, literature, discussion and community involvement, we seek to first better understand ourselves so that we might then better understand the world in which we live.  All of us who gather with the program lead incredibly active, diverse and devoted lives professionally, academically and spiritually.  We are engineers, investment bankers, educators, hotel managers, lawyers and marketing specialists who have been formed in Jesuit education and want to continue to lead, pray and live lives of service and faith.  If you are reading this blog, chances are a group like this is right up your alley and you might want to read more about the program and the Collaborative at: http://www.jesuit-collaborative.org/CLIA-Opens-in-Two-New-Cities .

A couple of months ago I looked through the CLIA syllabus and noticed the phrase “personality indicator tool” alongside the next two upcoming meeting dates.  Clearly our beloved group leader suspected that the clever phrasing might sound a little less harsh than PERSONALITY TEST.  A bit begrudgingly, our group of engineers, bankers, lawyers, teachers and wall street gurus sat down to take the personality indicator, the Enneagram.  Little did we know the results would bring welcomed and accurate “labels” for who we are, how we lead and where we might grow as leaders.  While the Enneagram itself is not explicitly rooted in Christianity, it is based on the premise that through self-awareness, we can use our strengths to better serve and live lives of leadership.  Therefore, it is easy to see how the tool can be situated in a Christian framework.  In fact, the process of taking the personality indicator and answering focused Enneagram questions reminded me very much of the daily practice of the Ignatian Examen.  In the Enneagram, focused questions, lead you to a number (one through nine) that is your “type.”  The premise is that people of the same type have the same basic motivations and communication patterns, and view the world in fundamentally similar ways.  The Enneagram groups its questions under the following five categories: 1) What is your driving force? 2) What behaviors do you rely on to get what you long for? 3) What role do you usually take in relationships? 4) How do you react under stress? And, 5) What will make you truly satisfied?  Just as the Examen asks you to look back at the day, at your actions and choices, the Enneagram helps to pinpoint where your personality shines, where you are at peace, and in what ways you bring peace to others.  Yet, the learning aspect of the Enneagram comes with the discussion of where your personality needs to grow and be stretched in order to fully embrace and live a fulfilled life as a scholar, friend, worker, lover, caregiver or confidant. If you’re interested in learning more about the Enneagram, look into Richard Rohr’s book The Enneagram: A Christian Perspective. This rich, extensive book prods you as you figure out your type, situating the tool within a Christian framework and offering anecdotal remarks along the way of Saints who embodied each of the nine types.  Alternatively, two websites that offer comprehensive Enneagram material are: http://www.9types.com/ and
http://www.enneagraminstitute.com/.

Once we fifteen engineers, investment bankers, educators, hotel managers, lawyers and marketing specialists had our defined Enneagram numbers in hand, perceptions of the “personality indicator tool” slowly began to change.  Unlike any personality test I, or others, had taken, something seemed very Christ-like about the brutally honest and reflective conversation that followed.  The gist of it was: “let me explain who I am and how I am so that we can better work, live and serve together.” Since the first CLIA-Enneagram meeting, I have used the “personality indicator tool” to have reflection-based discussions with roommates, coworkers and friends.  Going throughout my days now with people who I now know to be “threes” or “nines” has helped me to better understand our relationship and how to effectively work, live and pray together with those around me.  Consider my “personality indicator tool” skepticism erased.  And, in case you are wondering, I’m a “two.”

Photo: “ Enneagram ” by “Calinago” from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)

Gas Station Coffee & Do-It Yourself Homilies

December 27, 2009 By: mbensley Category: Megan's Posts Comments Off


Gas station coffee. It is one of my favorite things. 1/3 cappuccino to 2/3 coffee. I have had some of my best conversations with friends on road trips, strangers on Greyhound buses, and family members on the walk back from the gas station over a steaming cup of french vanilla. I’m not sure if it’s the no-frills styrofoam cup or the sinful amount of sugar, but gas station coffee really makes people slow down, open up and be real.

The homily at mass this morning in rural upstate New York begged for some gas station refreshment. Father J openly admitted that he needed a breather from the homily-giving after the wear-and-tear of Advent and turned the floor over to the congregation to reflect on the season and what it has meant to each of us this year. The plea for a participatory homily was met with a full 3 minutes of silence and I couldn’t help but become nostalgic for some gas station coffee. It really gets people talking. Enough awkward silence will also get people talking and soon several women had shared their reflections on Advent 2009. I was surprised, and somewhat proud, of the non-sugary stories that my hometown hamlet produced. One woman confessed that the holidays were enlightening as she came to terms with the fact that she, the eldest of eight, was not going to have children of her own even though she had been changing diapers since she was seven years old. Another woman, a nurse, opened up about the long, heart wrenching shifts she struggled to make sense of throughout the Advent season. She shared that as the days passed by she soaked up more and more sorrow from her patients’ suffering. There were several other Advent anecdotes shared and explained, each one seemingly confirming Fr. J’s decision to “open the floor up.” What’s more, each story ended with the storyteller expressing thanks to the congregation for the opportunity to share their story, and thanks for (perhaps unknowingly) being present every Sunday to love, to support and to reassure over the past four weeks.

At the end of mass, I wanted to caravan down to the Hess on the corner with the twenty families present at mass and buy everyone a cup of gas station coffee. You see, the “open the floor up” homily and gas station coffee have more in common than it might seem at first glance. They are both invitations. Invitations that at first we turn our lips up at: “I’ll stick to my fair trade latte, thank you very much.” Or, “Bring on the traditional talk-at-me homily, Fr. ______ .” I admit that I am often of these attitudes. Yet, there is something refreshingly simple and direct about both gas station coffee and what I’ll coin as “Do-it-yourself” homilies. They both get people talking, get people listening to each other and dare I say, get people more Christ-like. Really now, if Jesus Christ himself were looking for a cup of coffee this day in age, I think he would much rather throw down $1.25 in quarters and be on his way with his unadorned joe than pay three times as much after waiting in an altogether too long of a line at a holier-than-thou establishment. And if he turned the corner, coffee in hand, and entered the parish adjacent to the gas station and walked inside, which would he rather hear: the thoughts of one vowed preacher, or the flawed hems and haws of several “Do-it-yourself” conversations?

To bring the comparison to an end, I have to share how the homily ended. Fr. J asked in an appreciative tone if there were any last stories to tell before continuing on. There was another bout of silence before a bearded man dressed in camouflage hunting pants and a camel colored Carhartt jacket approached the altar with a folded piece of paper. Father J took the note and read it, smiling, as the man turned around to the congregation and announced: “The roads on Route 11 seem a little slippery, so please be careful on your way home.”

We all have our ways of contributing to these “Do-it-yourself” conversations, whether it is words of reflection, storytelling, commentary or advice. In these “post-Advent” days, let’s all embrace the spirit of gas station coffee and homemade homilies— slow down, open up and get real with the people around us.

Photo: “Bad Gas Station Coffee” by “desert-dweller” from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)

Loss

November 28, 2009 By: mbensley Category: Ignatian Spirituality, Megan's Posts 1 Comment →

When I was in kindergarten I lost my first tooth ever. It happened in the ball pit at Chuck E. Cheese and I was blubbery mess, convinced that the tooth fairy would not buy my story. After crying and carrying on in true over dramatic six year-old fashion, I am told that I said these words to the manager that night: “There has been a disaster.” As it turns out, the tooth fairy accepts handwritten explanations from managers on duty—crisis averted.

Twenty some years later and loss continues to tantalize me, shoving its ugly nose into very real attempts to plan, to organize and make sense of the world. But rather than remain victimized by this all too familiar force-of-loss, I’ve come to think of losing as an art, an art that I am very skilled at. I am constantly “at a loss” throughout my day—metro card, the time, my thought process. And I am especially gifted at losing my keys. The early twentieth century poet Elizabeth Bishop writes about the measured process of losing in her poem “One Art.”

“One Art”

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing further, losing faster:
places, and names and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! My last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

–Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write It!) like disaster.

Count your loses— on fingers, with tears, in curse words. Measure what’s now missing, maybe gone forever—gone from sight, from feeling. And if you can, in a joking voice, laugh at the loss and tell it—you are no disaster.

Then there are those other kinds of losses. What do we do about the losses that cannot simply be laughed off with self-deprecating humor, loss that cannot be consoled with a poem, loss that isn’t somewhat easily consoled?

Lost lives. Lost loves. Lost causes. Loss of innocence.

I admit that I’ve had more losses in these categories than I care to remember. And I also admit that in response to too many of these losses, faith was not my immediate response. Life dangles the temptations of quick-fix responses to the most profound hardship—and there lies the disaster. The loss itself isn’t the disaster, but the response to the loss is where the catastrophe lurks. Enter faith.

Faith is what we turn to; what we must turn to in order to weather the significant losses of life. And when I say faith, I mean much more than going to church for a quick-fix, more than swiftly reaching out for Psalm 23, more than hastily carrying yourself to the nearest confessional to own up to your part in the losing process. The faith that I am referring to is a slow faith. Slow faith means sitting down with a trusted friend, a mentor and examining, over time, how you’ve gotten to this point and how God is trying to help you through it. Slow faith means regular quiet time with your God to feel through the loss and grieve together. Slow faith means paying attention to the people, the places, the things that God has placed into your life very intentionally to inspire, encourage and even entertain. Slow faith will lead you away from disaster.

Loss. With patience, with humor, with faith we can be masters.

Photo: “letting go” by “janGlas” from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)

Who’s “Highly Effective?”

October 25, 2009 By: mbensley Category: Ignatian Spirituality, Megan's Posts 1 Comment →

 

I was recently proctoring the ACT college entrance exam to New York City public school  juniors and seniors in a small, white-walled room with no windows (thanks to construction going on around the building’s perimeter that meant all four windows were encased in a bubble-wrap-like material.) The desks were in single file roles exactly 5’ apart from one another in all directions and students sat quiet, stiff and seemingly dead to the world     listening to me drone on with the nittiest of the griddiest directions.

While 19 students were supposed to be lined up at the door at 7:30 am on a Saturday to show admissions offices just what they are made of, only 4 not-so-eager troopers actually pulled through and were sitting in front of me. Hour one rolled into hour two and two into three, four—calculators, sharpened pencils, 5 minute warnings, tissue distribution, and a whole lot of silence, unspoken tiredness and staring at the wall. And on the wall…

The only decoration in the entire testing room was a series of 7 posters entitled “The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens.” Each poster detailed in words and in illustrations what a teen must do in order to be successful, exceptional, presumably thriving and triumphant. Not allowed to do anything but stand and stare at the environment around me, I spent a lot of time thinking about these 7 keys to success and how they might relate to not just college-bound teenagers, but Catholics as well who are trying to be “highly effective.”

Sean Covey and his dad, Stephen Covey, coined the phrase “7 Habits of Highly Effective (insert age level here)” and the posters that surrounded me and the 4 test-takers included:

1) Be Proactive
2) Start with the End in Mind
3) Put First Things First
4) Think Win-Win
5) Seek First to Understand then to be Understood
6) Synergize
7) Sharpen the Saw

The habits are not mandates, or rules, or Commandments, but instead recommendations for attitudinal and behavioral modifications that will lead to success. I’ll admit, at first, I thought the list was overwhelmingly uncomplicated. “Be Proactive” by showing up to your ACT test on time, “Start with the End in Mind” by realizing that you need a good score on the test in order to get into college and you should therefore, put “First Things First” and pick your sleepy head off your desk and actively engage in the test in front of you. However, when I began making the analogy to “Highly Effective Catholics” this seemingly uncomplicated list got a little more convoluted and complex.

Q. As a successful Catholic, how do we ensure that we are being “Proactive?” A. Daily prayer, weekly mass, creating opportunities to engage in our faith—doing service, talking with others. And another question…Q. What is “The End in Mind” that we, as Catholics, are starting with? A. The Kingdom! As I started going down the list, with the analogy in my head, I developed more sympathy for the 15 no-shows. How often do I, as a Catholic, lack in my “Proactiveness” or in my ability to “Seek First to Understand Then to be Understood?” Let’s just say that too often, I find myself demanding things of God rather than patiently listening for his words or not showing up for that daily moment of prayer like the students missing from my ACT room. Perhaps we have more in common than my original highly judgmental impression of their absence suggested.

As the final minutes ticked by on the official ACT clock, I realized just how hard it was going to be to “eat my words” and my “judgments,” leaving the room with the intention of becoming a “More Highly Effective Catholic.” First things first—now I’ve written down my analogy and am off to discover in what other ways I can be more effective, as a person of faith.


Photo: “Proactive” by “Jonathan Assink” from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)

« Previous Entries