Vicky reflects on their journey of self-discovery and the importance of community and presence in fostering a sense of belovedness. She emphasizes the power of pausing, improvisation, and vulnerability in connecting with oneself and others. Through shared experiences and thoughtful responses, Vicky illustrates how rhythm and presence shape our lives and relationships, ultimately leading to a more profound understanding of our value in God's eyes.
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"I think it goes without saying, but Pastoralab has been a Godsend to me- it’s a space where I can speak and be truly heard, and in this case, sing and be listened to with utmost care and intensity. The experience highlighted the power of improvisation, presence, rhythm and the deafening pause, and how all of these components can facilitate community and help the individual connect with oneself.
Improvisation is, at its core, a process of vulnerability. When one speaks or sings without having planned the next word or note, even with practice, one risks judgment. It is already an act of boldness to exist- to fight entropy, to take up space in a world dominated by gravity and pressure. To create while put on the spot means to fall forward into a great unknown. As someone who has perceived judgment from others with an acute sensitivity all my life, it was a sign of growth that I was willing to risk improvisation- and a sign of the sense of safety I experience from my Pastoralab community. Because this time, instead of being viewed with a critical eye for the mistakes I would undoubtedly make, I was listened to intently for the message beneath the song- the message my heart was sending at the subconscious level, the things I didn’t even know I was feeling, and the things I haven’t even articulated to myself. And in so doing, in revealing myself to others, the community mirrored myself back to me.
The process of vulnerability connects to the power of presence. The message means nothing without the power of the listener, who carries the agency of actively choosing, moment to moment, absence or presence. As I sang, it became abundantly clear to me that even though we weren’t physically present with each other, their presence altered the way I approached the music. I could feel it. My singing felt as if I were literally turning to embrace each person, and my subject matter shifted from an individual feeling of longing, as if I were moving out of the confines of a deep forest, into the wide plains of greater possibility. Suddenly, I wasn’t alone. It wasn’t just “me.” That letter turned upside down into “we”. Suddenly, I carried the capacity for invitation in my unresolved melody, and my community took my waiting hand to emerge, together, out of the shadows into the light.
Rhythm is how one travels. Our daily and routine movements point to the vision of where we place our emphasis and how we prioritize what matters to us. It establishes a uniformity of how we dance through life. It can be so compelling and inspiring. Yet, movement can also become monotonous and predictable. And when we stop, it indicates to others that something of import has occurred. That is the power of the pregnant pause- it captures the weight of emotion and the things that cannot be put into words. One must stop out of necessity, because words, even melody, cannot convey the immensity of all that a human being can carry, the grief that borders on madness. It moves one to tears in its stillness. In allowing one person to set the rhythm for the group, we traveled with that beloved sister into the confines of her questions and doubts. Do we follow that path if it leads away from the promise? What are we reclaiming and risking when we speak? We allowed ourselves to be together in these questions, and in so doing, saw ourselves mirrored in the other with a new and grace-filled light."
Find out more about our PastoraLab program: https://www.isaacweb.org/pastoralab
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