August 25, 2025: Link to YouTube worship and sermon script

 

The beloved Buddhist teacher Pema Chödrön offers this insight: "When things start to fall apart in your life, you feel as if your whole world is crumbling. But actually it’s your fixed identity that’s crumbling. And that’s cause for celebration." 

These words invite us to reframe our understanding of challenging times, urging us to see them not as moments of irreversible loss, but as opportunities for profound transformation. Rather than clinging to the familiar, Chödrön encourages us to embrace the discomfort of change, understanding that what is truly falling apart is not our world, but the rigid identities and expectations we’ve constructed over time.

The experience of moving to Eugene and entering this role has reminded me of a powerful truth: sometimes, you can’t know what you need until you get there. We often try to plan, to predict, and to control the outcomes of our lives, but life has a way of showing us that the path ahead is not always clear. It’s only when we step into the unknown, when we allow ourselves to be present with what is, that we can truly understand what is needed. This theme of not knowing what we need until we arrive is something that I have long struggled with; my brain craves control. 

For the past 12 weeks I have been serving as an intern chaplain in a trauma 1 medical setting, something I struggled to prepare for. I had hoped that on the first day of that internship, I would have everything I needed to succeed, only to be discovering ways to make that role comfortable until the very last day. Prior to starting that program, I knew I probably needed new shoes, while also hoping that the  sneakers I had been wearing for the past few years would last me. After all, it was only 12 weeks. However, by the time I got a 4 am page on my first overnight, my feet hurt so much. When I got off that overnight, I ordered shoes within 30 minutes. I was actually really glad I didn’t get shoes ahead of time, because while my inclination that I needed new shoes was accurate, I didn’t really know, until I worked that overnight, what I needed those shoes to be. I would have gotten running shoes, or assumed I needed more formal shoes, when what I needed was the ability to stand for long periods of time. 

This actually became a running theme for me throughout my hospital experience, initially trying not to carry a bag before realizing that I am more effective if I have my water, my tarot cards, some craft supplies, a few holy books. I remember a delightful visit with a Muslim man, who saw my collar and said I probably couldn’t offer him any spiritual insights. I pulled a Koran and a portable prayer mat out of my bag and he was so excited. He wanted to know what else was in my bag, and by the time I left, we’d done some crafts, he’d requested a tarot reading, and I felt so much stronger in my skillset knowing that while the real work is within, it’s ok to need some tools. Just as Chödrön’s teachings encourage letting go of fixed identities to navigate the present moment, recognizing my own needs helped me stay grounded and effective in my spiritual care work. 

Pema Chödrön’s work is deeply rooted in the Buddhist tradition, particularly in the teachings of Tibetan Buddhism. She became one of the first American women to be fully ordained as a nun in the Tibetan tradition and has spent decades teaching and writing about the importance of embracing the present moment, especially when it’s difficult. One of her core teachings revolves around the concept of shenpa, a Tibetan term that refers to the feeling of being hooked—those moments when something triggers a deep, habitual response in us, often leading to anger, fear, or clinging. Chödrön teaches that by recognizing shenpa and learning to stay present with it, we can begin to unravel the habitual patterns that keep us stuck in cycles of suffering.

Her wisdom is particularly resonant when she speaks about the crumbling of our fixed identities. Chödrön challenges us to let go of the rigid self-concepts we hold—those ideas about who we are and how we believe we should be. This is a lesson that has been especially meaningful to me as I navigate this new chapter. Moving to a new place, stepping into new roles, and meeting new people all require me to let go of who I thought I was and to embrace who I’m becoming. The process is both liberating and unsettling, but Chödrön’s teachings remind me that this is where true growth happens—in the space between what was and what is yet to be.

When the identities we’ve constructed begin to crumble, it can feel disorienting, even frightening. Yet, it’s precisely in these moments of unraveling that we are invited to explore who we might become if we stop holding on so tightly. Letting go of these rigid identities isn’t about losing ourselves; rather, it’s about creating the space to live more fully in the present.

For me, this process is deeply tied to three areas of my own identity that I’m committed to exploring more fully during this time: my queerness, my magical practice, and my neurodivergence. These aspects of myself are not just identities but rich, dynamic parts of my being that guide me in how I move through the world. As I set goals toward greater authenticity and vulnerability, I’m honing in on these dimensions of myself, using them as a compass for my journey. This journey includes embracing the unknown, cultivating vulnerable presence, and adapting and reflecting. 

Living with neurodivergence often means navigating a world that can feel unpredictable and overwhelming, where things don’t always make sense in the same ways they might for others. As is so common among those who experience an adult diagnosis, in my case Autism and ADHD, there was such a clear sense of how my identity has formed around both neurodivergence and trauma, and so many things about myself finally made sense. 

While I have long preferred soft, floaty fabrics, I initially thought I simply disliked coarse fabrics, I’ve come to understand that this sensitivity goes much deeper; avoiding these materials is a form of sensory accessibility. Recognizing this, I’ve reframed my sensory sensitivity as a space of possibility. It’s not something to fear or shy away from, but rather a realm where my unique way of experiencing the world opens up avenues for unexpected insights and creative solutions. 

To navigate this sensitivity effectively, I’ve developed a set of skills and tools that empower me to create an environment where I can thrive. This includes being intentional about the textures and fabrics I allow into my life, curating a wardrobe that honors my need for softness and comfort while also expressing my identity. I’ve learned to carry these tools with me—both literally, in the form of clothing and accessories that serve as stims, tinted glasses to protect against bright lights, and metaphorically, through the awareness and mindfulness that guide my choices. This empowerment extends beyond the practical; it’s about embracing who I am, using my sensitivity as a guide to live more authentically and creatively in the world.

This goal of embracing the unknown is about leaning into the discomfort of the unknown, much like Pema Chödrön’s teachings on shenpa, this concept of the the habitual urge to resist discomfort and cling to certainty. Instead of letting the instinct to resist guide me, I’m choosing to stay present with the unknown, allowing my neurodivergent mind to offer its unique wisdom and insights. By embracing the unknown, I create space for genuine connection and allow each situation to unfold in ways that are both unexpected and transformative. True authenticity often emerges in these moments of surrender, where I am willing to be vulnerable and acknowledge that I don’t have all the answers. Embracing the unknown, therefore, not only supports my personal growth but also helps cultivate a ministry that is responsive, adaptive, and deeply rooted in the present moment.

My second goal, cultivating vulnerable presence, is deeply intertwined with my queer identity and the unique challenges and strengths that come with it. Navigating a world that often pressures us to conform to oppressive structures requires a profound commitment to living authentically. This goal centers on my ability to be present with my own discomfort and uncertainty, recognizing these moments as opportunities for profound growth rather than obstacles to avoid.

I have spent much of my life lacking the language to describe my gender and sexual identities, feeling that my high femme presentation excluded me from being nonbinary unless I embraced androgyny. However, when I started using they/them pronouns, I realized that my identity is mine alone, and if I want my gender to be a pile of soft fabric, so be it. I know I am not the only one for whom the pandemic, while disruptive and traumatizing, became an invitation to fully embrace queerness in a way that hadn’t felt possible before. 

In many ways, the pandemic was the first time in my life that I had periods where I was truly alone, and although I learned that I both love and need solitude, I also discovered the necessity of community and the vulnerability required to engage in deep shadow work—confronting all aspects of my queerness, from gender and sexual identity to neurodivergence and magical practice. This process has allowed me to live fully into the person I have become, queering spaces in ways that feel true to who I am.

So instead of retreating from difficult emotions or concealing my vulnerabilities, I am committed to experiencing and expressing these feelings openly. This means confronting my fears, doubts, and insecurities, both internally and in my interactions with others. By doing so, I aim to create a space where my community feels safe to share their own vulnerabilities. My goal is to model what it means to live authentically and openly, using my queer identity not only as a personal strength but as a means to build deeper connections. Through this process, I hope to cultivate a ministry that is compassionate, supportive, and deeply rooted in the shared human experience of navigating life’s uncertainties together.

My third goal, adapting and reflecting, is intricately connected to my magical practice. Magic, for me, is fundamentally about transformation—taking the raw materials of life and working with them to create something new, never before seen, the creation of wonders. This goal encourages me to regularly reflect on my experiences, noting how my understanding of my needs and strengths evolves over time. It involves staying open to change and recognizing that the wisdom I seek may reveal itself only as I navigate the challenges of this internship. By integrating my magical practice into this process, I can hopefully become more attuned to my development as a minister, recognizing that every experience contributes to my overall growth. This adaptability will enable me to better respond to the needs of those I serve and ensure that my ministry remains relevant and impactful as my understanding of what it means to be a minister continues to unfold.

It's essential to recognize that embracing discomfort doesn't mean we reject comfort or dismiss pain. Instead, it’s about finding a balance—acknowledging that while discomfort can drive growth and transformation, comfort provides the support and security we need to navigate these challenges. In our journey through uncertainty and change, we learn to hold space for both discomfort and comfort, understanding that each plays a vital role in our overall well-being and development.

Being trauma-informed means preparing ourselves not only to anticipate challenges but also to respond with empathy and kindness. It’s about creating an environment where we can face discomfort with compassion, allowing ourselves and others to grow from these experiences while remaining grounded in the support that comfort provides. By fostering a space that respects both discomfort and comfort, we build a foundation of trust and resilience, which strengthens our ability to navigate transitions with grace and authenticity.

As I step into my role with this congregation, I am committed to working together toward our shared goals. Together, we will create an environment where each of us can engage with life’s uncertainties openly, find strength in our vulnerabilities, and grow through the transformative power of our shared experiences. In this way, we will support one another in our quest for authenticity and meaningful connection, deeply aligned with our shared values.

As we go forth from this gathering, I invite each of you to consider the ways in which your own identities are evolving. Embrace the changes that come, knowing that within them lies the potential for profound growth and deeper authenticity. Let us take on this meandering journey together, holding space for one another’s transformations, knowing that our shared commitment to honesty and openness will guide us forward as a community.

May we all find the courage to live into our true selves, recognizing that this authenticity not only strengthens our own spirits but also enriches the fabric of our congregation. As I am accountable to you in my role as your minister, I trust that you, too, will honor your accountability in holding space for one another with compassion and care. Together, we will build a community where each person’s journey is respected and supported.

And now, may you be blessed with the grace to accept change with an open heart, the wisdom to stay present in each moment, and the strength to continue growing into the fullness of who you are meant to be. Go in peace, with love and light guiding your way.