Turning inward, Turning Outward©
October 15, 2000
Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Midland
Jane Thickstun, Celebrant

[Gestures.]

Some people stop with the first step. Maybe all of us at some point in our lives stay there for a long time. We stop and set up camp there. Stopping at the first step means we experience things, and then don’t do anything with that experience. We just keep experiencing more and more without processing it. We can only go on so long that way. At some point if we don’t do something with it, we start tuning it out, or turning away from it; somehow finding a way to keep it from coming in so fast and furious. We get grumpy; we wonder if we can keep going on; we wish things could just get easier.

That is why we need to turn inward. We take in until we can’t take in anymore, then we need to go inside to process it. The inward movement isn’t a turning away from the world, it isn’t a rejection of the world. It is how we integrate our experience, how we process it and allow it to strengthen us. If we don’t turn inward periodically, our experience can drain us. We can become dry and barren and less able to adapt to new situations. So much raw experience needs reflection, or perhaps just unconscious integration.

So we turn inward. What does turning inward look like? For many, prayer is a way of turning inward, but it is by no means the only way, nor even the preferred way. For many who practice forms of Asian religion, meditation is the way to turn inward. For me turning inward often takes the form of meditation, but I use that term loosely. It might be a formal, Buddhist-style sitting, or it might be a walk in the woods. It might be just sitting looking out the window and reflecting. Contemplation. It might be prayer. If I’m among people, it might mean removing myself to be alone, or if the group is big enough and I am not expected to participate, I might make that inward turn right there among them. It definitely means putting down the book, turning off the TV, saying no to all the things my mind says I need to do.

In the reading, the author was unable to shake the feelings that were getting him down. He wanted to be able to just lighten up and enjoy beautiful Copenhagen with his friends, but he couldn’t. So he went wandering away from his friends in order to turn inward, to be with the feelings he was having that were out of synch with the gaiety of his friends. He took time to be alone with his feelings. He found his way into a part of the city that fit better with those feelings; and among strangers there was no pressure to act more cheerfully than he felt. Without a mask on, the approach of a stranger reaching out to him just where he was in all his lack of cheerfulness was just what it took in this case to turn him around. He was able to return to his friends without having to put on a mask of cheerfulness, but with a genuine feeling of gladness. He felt renewed, felt he had found an inner light, a buoyancy that supports without struggle, an integrity that we can trust to life.

Have you ever felt that? That sense of buoyancy that supports without a struggle? That lifting of the burden? It is not something that occurs often in anybody’s life, but it can result from turning inward. More often what is achieved in turning inward is a new insight on a problem, or a release of emotion that hadn’t been allowed to come to the surface. So many of us stuff our feelings because we think we have to in order to keep on functioning in the world. We may not even be conscious of it; in fact we are rarely aware that we are doing it. Turning inward allows all those stuffed feelings to surface and be dealt with in safety.

It is a good idea to have a discipline of turning inward on a regular basis. There are lots of spiritual practices that Unitarian Universalists engage in that help them to do this.. I’m one of those types that has a hard time keeping up a regular discipline. I have done so for periods, some longer, some shorter. Luckily, by now I am getting a sense of when I need to turn inward and I take the time to do so. I often am reminded to turn inward when I become aware that something is bothering me, when I feel stuck and don’t know what to do. Sometimes I am rewarded by a new insight or perspective. I can’t expect it, though. If you turn inward hoping for something in particular, you will probably be disappointed. Your creative source will be frustrated if you will only accept one result and it has something else to offer.

Richard Kellaway uses the metaphor of withdrawing to an island retreat. He says:

"Why an island? Why this journey away from the center of activity? An island is sanctuary. It is a place apart and unconnected. Its inconvenience is its virtue. One must choose to go, and there is no wandering away. In the smaller scale the forms of nature become clearer; so also do the structures by which we shape our living together. In the closeness there are fewer distractions–imposed or selected. The initial shock of aloneness recedes to open the possibility of being really connected. Ironic that to comprehend the fullness of life we must slow it down, that to achieve relationship we must escape activity, that to be more we must often do less.

"Every person needs islands. If one cannot reach them across the winter sea, there must be self-defined islands of space and time. There must be places apart with doors that close, hours of quiet when one shuts the ears in order to hear. Island time operates on a different chronology; each of us must find our pattern of alternation between withdrawal and activity. But there is a pattern, and only by discovering it and living it do we relax our thrashing and flow with the rhythms which give shape to our being. The triumph of selfhood is not perfect control, but the awareness and acceptance which enables us to be, fully and spontaneously, in the present.

". . . in [our withdrawals we are] close to renewed relationship with the vital. Through our withdrawals we gain the strength to continue our journey and the sense to do it wisely." (Island Along the Way, p. 43-44)

I have discovered that I have a need for periodic solitary retreats to renew my relationship with "the vital." Even though I live alone, I find it hard to separate myself from my life, from my distractions, cares and worries. It helps to go off to a place where there is nothing but myself and nature. Early in my preparation for ministry, I discovered (or perhaps rediscovered) the value and importance of such retreats for myself. At some point during my first year of seminary, I became aware of an urge inside me to get away, and I knew I needed to get off somewhere by myself. I put it off, because there was no time for a retreat; I had school and work, and was having trouble keeping up as it was. Then summer came, and it grew more insistent, but I still put it off, because I had to work to make some badly needed money, and I had incompletes. By fall the inner voice was shouting, and I decided I had better listen. I was thinking of going to a monastery in Madison, but then I realized that wouldn’t do. The voice was telling me to get to the woods.

So even though the incompletes weren’t done and I had more do to than ever, I took off the first weekend of the quarter and went to the woods in Wisconsin. Though it was the first weekend in October, it was like summer. I swam in the lake and I walked in the woods. I turned inwards. I came back from that weekend with a clear sense of purpose and renewed energy for my ministry; and I had a most productive quarter. I not only finished both incompletes, each twenty-page papers, but I also took a full course load, did my first school Vespers service, and put in extra time to finish a big project at work.

Turning outward results naturally from turning inward. Once we are renewed by our inward journey, we turn back out to meet the world again. Turning inward allows us to gather up our experiences into ourselves, to integrate them and to be strengthened by them. At some point we feel that strength welling up inside and we need to let it out. We may experience it as joy, or compassion, or confidence. Whatever it is, it needs to be expressed in the world. The outward movement is the expression of love and beauty in the world. It can be expressed in many different ways, for instance: in art, music, jumping, running, caring, activism, and so much more . . . It can be expressed as an ability to be with and for others, or a change of heart toward others, loving what once seemed unlovable. It can be all the activities we normally engage in, but now we engage in them with heart. Now a person meets the world with a bounce in his step or a smile on her face, or maybe just the courage to carry on. Now the way is clearer, or at least the next step. Maybe we just realize why we are so sad, and we can set about either changing things or accepting things that can’t be changed.

There is a song by Chris Williamson called "Waterfall" that depicts these motions. It starts out "Sometimes it takes a rainy day, just to let you know everything’s gonna be alright." And the chorus goes "Filling up and spilling over, it’s an endless waterfall. Filling up and spilling over, overall. Filling up and spilling over, it’s an endless waterfall. Filling up and spilling over, overall." When we are able to process and integrate our experience by turning inward from time to time, we are able to be more open to life, to let more in, and to let more out. We have more to give, as we keep filling up and spilling over. The spilling over just happens because we become so full we must spill over. Love can’t be kept inside. It must come out. It must be expressed in the world.

These motions are not done once and then we are done with them. They must be repeated periodically. We need to be constantly renewed. No matter how momentous a particular epiphany might be, no matter how life-changing - if we stop there and never turn inward again, we lose its effect. We dry up. We need to be continually creating ourselves anew, adjusting and adapting to new circumstances in our lives and in the world. We need to continue to check in with ourselves. When we are feeling unable to give, unable to be there for others, or even just grouchy, it’s usually a sign we need to turn inward. I believe it is possible to get into a rhythm, even a daily rhythm of turning inward and turning outward. Mother Theresa’s life is a prime example of this. She would start each day with prayer, then go out and serve the needy masses, and she would periodically turn inward in prayer during the day, as a way of dealing with the endless suffering she encountered.

The movements don’t always or even often happen in one continuous motion, like we have done with the gestures. Sometimes we have to take in, turn in, take in, turn in, many times before we are able to turn outward. Sometimes it takes a long time on the inward cycle before we are able to turn out again. For instance, grieving a loss can involve a lengthy inward cycle, especially if we are grieving the loss of someone close to us. Depression could be seen as just a lengthy stay in the inward turn. It can feel like we’ll never come out, like we’ll never be able to do more than just get by again. But the further in we reach, the more resources we find, and at some point we just find ourselves turning, like Kellaway in the bar in Copenhagen.

Turning inward is the difficult movement. Many people find it hard to spend time alone. Many parents find it hard to find time to spend alone. Even those of us who like to spend time alone find it hard to get below the surface, to find the quiet place within. Kellaway describes the inward turning in relation to the search for silence. He says:

"What we often seek is not more silence but less noise. Absolute silence frightens us. When we attempt to escape the noise we are seeking different patterns of sound, softer and more pleasing. The silence we seek is not an absence of sound, but a quietness within the self. To reach it we must pass into a new dimension of experience.

"The process of settling down into quietness requires extraordinary discipline to keep the attention away from fantasy and focused on the present moment. Centering is a movement towards calm, repose, peace, rest. As we quell the cacophony outside and within, we discover that there is no absolute silence in our experience. Almost everywhere there is sound. As the level becomes subdued, quietness becomes a cup to gather and contain every effusion.

. . . "Beneath the silence and the quietness is a center of stillness which is the fount of creativity. In the rare moments on the other side of silence I have experienced that fount within myself Bottomless, it plunges into the heart of existence; out of it in playful delight flows meaning and joy. When in the depressions I become frantic and think to flee towards safety, I seek again the strength to cross over into the center of stillness which is the base of genuine security." (Through the Silence Towards the Center, p. 45-46)

[Do the gestures] This community is here to support us in our turning. It can help us turn inward, help us to make sense of our experience. It can help us find outlets for our outward turning in creative expression or service to the wider community, to the world. Let us support each other in our turning. Let us keep turning, keep filling up and spilling over in an endless waterfall.

The Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Midland is recognized by the Unitarian Universalist Association as a Welcoming Congregation. We welcome, affirm, promote and celebrate the full participation of all persons in all of our activities without regard to age, gender, sexual orientation, race or any other such category of exclusion.

Please feel free to contact us with any feedback, corrections or questions at jaham@delta.edu