Getting Started with Discernment Work
2/2/21
Dear friend,
As I mentioned in last week's letter, we're going to start talking through the work of discernment and noticing our invitations. What does this mean, and what does it look like?
Let's start with a practical exercise that might be helpful to you.
When I ran a book-coaching company called Bookwifery, I would sometimes help potential authors through a workshop called "Are You Pregnant With a Book?" I don't run that company or offer that workshop anymore, but it was basically a discernment workshop, and a number of its pieces can be applied to what we're discussing here.
One of the key components of the workshop happened after we'd moved through all of their noticings and namings about possibly writing and publishing a book. We would step away from the particularities of their possible book project and look at their experiences of discernment.
This was one of my favorite moments in the workshop.
"Make a list of significant moments of decision in your life," I would say, and then I would give them time to make that list.
I did the activity too. On my list of significant moments of decision were:
Deciding where to go to college
Discerning whether or not to join the Episcopal Church
Marrying Kirk
Being trained as a spiritual director
Starting Bookwifery
And I would add to the list since then:
Starting the Light House
Closing Bookwifery
Of course, there are more moments than these. You might even include on the list significant decisions you made that you later regretted. I certainly have some of those.
And then here's where the exercise gets interesting.
You're invited to look at the list of significant life decisions you made to see if you can learn anything helpful about your experience of discernment.
What does your yes feel like? What does your no feel like? Is there a pattern to the way you tend to find your way to the decisions that are right for you?
For example, one thing I learned from doing this exercise myself is that my discernment process has a pattern. With the exception of my decision to marry Kirk, which I knew in my bones was the right decision for me, I will usually agonize over a decision for a good, long while. It is not out of the question for me to hold a question for six months, a year, or even multiple years, feeling lost and uncertain and angsty in the unknowing place.
And then one day, in an innocuous, everyday moment, it clicks into place. I just know. And I can now move forward.
My decision about going to college was like this. My discernment about the Episcopal Church was like this. My discernment about closing Bookwifery was like this. My discernment about starting Bookwifery was like this too.
This is helpful information for me to have because now when I find myself in a period of significant discernment, I go easier on myself in the long not-knowing time. "This is the way it works for me," I remind myself. "At some point, the moment of clarity will come. It always does. We're just not there yet. Keep waiting and seeking."
Your experience will look its own way, and that's the thing worth celebrating: finding out what that way is.
I once had a woman take this workshop with me who shared her significant decisions could be divided into three categories: times when she chose her own yes, times when she chose what other people wanted her to choose, and times when she did what was culturally expected of her. It was a great moment of revelation for her to notice what can pull her in one direction or another, and even to know that those different directions exist. Now she can pause in future moments of decision and check in with herself to ask, "Is this my yes, someone else's yes for me, or a cultural expectation?"
I would love to hear if you try this exercise for yourself and gain any noticings from it! Or if questions come up for you with this exercise, you're welcome to share those too.
Next week, we'll talk about the spiritual dimension of discernment and how that factors into your experience.
Yours in discernment work,
Christianne