Words as portals and pathways

Words are powerful. They cross divides that lead us to each other. Whether spoken or gestured, words bring to light thoughts hidden in darkness. New words are like portals, opening different vistas and ways of being and seeing that can reach across thresholds of new understanding. In hearing my eight year-old granddaughter’s conversations with her friends, I know that words are being created to bring a new explanation to the world in which she lives. It’s like a foreign language to my ears but that’s okay, I just need to listen and learn.

For many years I chose to use the title Spiritual Director when describing my work. But recently I have become less comfortable with the word ‘director,’ especially when I observe either a quizzical or blank expression that comes back at me in new conversations about the practice. Direction is inadequate if the meaning of the word carries with it a sense of being told the answers or what to do, or being given a road map to follow, and this is what some people may (rightly) expect.

True to the integrity of this practice, direction acts more like discernment, where at the heart of any conversation or experience that encapsulates a spiritual quest, is a longing for connection to something greater than us. But I’m not going to begin to introduce myself as a Spiritual Discerner! I prefer for it to remain more subtle so the title Spiritual Companion sits well with me these days. Most people are going to lean into the idea of companionship especially if they sense the warmth and attention it evokes. I walk alongside another, open and attentive to what they bring into the space—that which they recognise and that which they don’t—which requires discernment.

Which brings me to the word ‘spiritual’! Oh my, this is another loaded word that in my experience has unfurled like a flower to reveal its many layers of petals. Once, to be spiritual seemed to require walking a fairly narrow path prescribed by a set of doctrines and dogma to qualify it as such. For me now, to be spiritual is to be open to a vast array of experiences that would lead me to a greater knowing of myself and my connection to the Divine. To be spiritual is to be alive in all of life’s multi-faceted design and expressions.

The word ‘Divine’ is one I have adopted in reference to God. The word ‘God,’ in many religious settings, has been linked so closely with patriarchy, and in the words of American feminist theologian and philosopher Mary Daly, “if God is male, male is God” (Beyond God the Father, 1973). This might seem like an extreme statement, but it encapsulates the necessity to allow for new words to be used to describe new understandings. Where once I would have used ‘Him’ in reference to God, now, through my deepening questions and experiences I realise that any gender-based pronoun is insufficient. For quite some time I allowed the pendulum to swing the other way and would only refer to God as ‘She.’ In doing this, I was able to discover a newfound love and embrace my place and role in the greater scheme of life as a woman and leader. This exploration continued for me and ‘She’ as a feminine force seen and felt in nature, our great Earth Mother, can be both folded into and experienced as both Sacred and Divine.

Once the invitation to consider new words to describe the indescribable began, and as I continued to change and grow myself, I began to sense that God is neither male or female, and I adopted the more inclusive ‘Divine’ as my way to name God. Yet, it is so important to maintain curiosity and the quest to grow and expand

Searching for words to describe mystery must be experienced as an evolving journey.

Embracing new words that allow a refreshed sense of connection to that which is sacred is a type of resurrection. In letting go of old words that have reached their expiration date and become obsolete we make room for something new to appear. This newness is nothing short of an invitation from the Universe to embrace the many wondrous surprises that are held in store for those that are open to notice. Finding these new words to describe God invites us also to consider and discover our sacred nature including the interconnection and belonging of all beings, human and nonhuman. I imagine I will continue the journey of discovering the richness of language and in doing so change my way of speaking, thinking, and seeing again and again. Nothing is permanent and everything should be held with open hands and hearts. It is important to say, however, that if the one I am accompanying uses ‘God’ as their reference to the Divine, my task is not to change or challenge their vocabulary. Rather, I am hopefully able to hold an anchored and safe space for them to explore from freely. This also is a task gifted to a Spiritual Companion.

I come from the land down-under, Aōtearoa | New Zealand. Over the years as a nation, we have been journeying to understand what it means to honour and respect the indigenous of this land, the Māori people. One of the ways that this has happened is through learning Te Reo, the Māori language. Much of our public discourse and educational focus is bi-lingual and it is beautiful. Learning a new language is hard! But what I loved the most in my early journey was being introduced to new words and I have chosen to replace my native English with some of these words. For example, ‘family’ in Te Reo is whānau. In my cultural heritage, influenced by western individualism, the meaning of family is limited to a small group of people. But in Te Reo, whānau can be extended to ‘whanaungatanga’ (no expectation here for you to get your tongue around that one). Perhaps you can see that as the literal word whānau is extended—so is its meaning. The family group extends to include a much broader group of people in community.

Using new words to describe old ways of being can transform our world and attempting to maintain a strict and immoveable language creates a very restrictive life. As Austrian philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein said, “The limits of my language are the limits of my world” (Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, 1961). People come to conversations with a plethora or a famine of words that describe the story of their lives. My role as a spiritual companion is to listen deeply to the words that may flow like a gushing waterfall or that are birthed out of the depths of silence and to invite the Divine to be felt as present in it all. There is no format, there are no rules and there is no judgement regarding the words that are used to describe the stories, longings, joys or sadness of another. Words themselves, as portals, open sacred pathways to unravel the affairs of the heart, enabling the speaker and the listener to make sense of their world as it is today.