Author: lleachie

I am an associate professor of human services at a regional Midwestern university. I am also a writer of fantasy and romance, hoping to get traditionally published. I have one husband and am owned by four cats.

Day 11 Lenten Meditation: Play

Play is necessary to life.

Play is a way to engage ourselves with the world in unexpected ways, ways that invite laughter and more play.

There’s a common trope that says we lose our ability to play when we get older, but I see a lot of evidence to the contrary. Cosplay, practical jokes, puns, Internet memes — all of these are evidence that play still exists. 

For those who have lost play, I suggest one simple exercise: Find a swing set, and climb into the seat. And then swing, heedless of who might see. Feel the laughter break forth from you, and that’s the result of play. 

Then work your way up to fingerpainting, or talking to yourself in silly voices. Engage yourself in the messy, the ludicrous, and feel that laughter again. Get rid of the self-consciousness and just play. 

Day 10 Lenten Meditation: Imagination



Imagination is perhaps my greatest gift.

Imagination saved my life in a bleak childhood, when I spaced out in school imagining the dialogue of two princes plotting to kill each other, created story lines where I alternatively saved and was saved by classmates, and envisioned elaborate backgrounds to the music I listened to on my AM radio. 

The times when I have had nothing else — times of illness in a behavioral health ward, lonely times in my depressive episodes, times of failure — I have had the ability to create images in my head, create words in my heart. To see what was not immediately there.

Imagination is perhaps the world’s greatest gift. We live in a world of strife, so we imagine peace. We live in a world of climate change, so we imagine solutions. Then we change the world.


Day 9 Lenten Meditation: Community



According to researchers (Grouzet et al, 2005), community is a universal goal across cultures. It appears not just a goal, but a need. Matthew Lieberman, in his book Social: Why Our Brains Are Wired to Connect (2013) cites thousands of research articles to make the case that we were born craving community. 

How do we get community? Some get it through church, others through clubs and volunteer work. Some get it at their favorite coffeehouse or bar. Many of us get it online, but there we have to struggle with antagonism as well, destroying our sense of community. 

Against community, we have no way to define ourselves. We have nobody to turn to when we are suffering, nobody to take care of us when we are sick, no one to celebrate with when we triumph. Even introverts need community — perhaps one person at a time.

Where is your community?



Grouzet, F., Kasser, T., Ahuvia, A., Fernandez-Dols, J., Kim, Y., Lau, S.,Ryan, R., Saunders, S., Schmuck, P., Sheldon, K. (2005). The structure of goal contents across 15 cultures. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology. 89. 800-16. 10.1037/0022-3514.89.5.800. 

Lieberman, M. (2013). Social: Why Our Brains Are Wired to Connect. Crown Publishing.

Day 8 Lenten Meditation: Silence


How do we know ourselves if not for silence? We only know our outward selves — our careers, our social networks, our consumer-driven wants and needs. With silence we lose our external selves for a moment, and find our internal one. And then we pass beyond self to the big Unity, the center of silence.

There are many ways to find silence. Unplugging from the phone, meditating, silent worship, walking alone in a peaceful place. Anything that quiets not only the external but the internal chatter, our constant defining of the world.

As a Quaker, I am accustomed to silent worship. We believe that in the silence, The Divine speaks to us. Silence isn’t only reserved for worship, but in everyday life. We believe that we must live simple lives so that there’s undistracted space for us to listen to our small, still voice. That’s another type of silence.

A little bit of silence is my prescription to you.

Day 7 Lenten Meditation: Dust



We have a natural antipathy to dust, perhaps because it’s something we can’t control. Dust is ubiquitous. Dust exceeds our ability to clean as it sparkles in the sun drifting through windows. 

Dust symbolizes the useless and unclean. In the Bible, the Apostles were instructed to knock the dust of inhospitable towns from their sandals on the way out. (This is especially noteworthy as feet were seen as unclean in that culture.) Dusting is a regular part of housecleaning, and neglecting to do it will raise the scorn of neighbors.

Dust inspires poetry about death and mortality. “Unto dust you shall return …” declares the Roman Catholic mass on Ash Wednesday. 

We do not like to think about dust. We will never love dust, and that is fine. We will fight dust, like we fight filth, like we fight against death.

But in the end, it will win. 


Day 5 Lenten Meditation: Sanctuary

We all need a place to feel safe. 

Whether safety means the need to get away from a hard day at work, a sense of loss from trauma, or an immediate threat to one’s well-being, sanctuary is necessary.

Some find sanctuary in a closed door, a meditation session, or a safe community. Some find sanctuary in writing, or art, or other engrossing activity. Some find sanctuary in family or friends, or in religion.

Inside each of us, no matter how old we are, is our memory of childhood, which was safe or not safe, That part of fears the unknown as something dangerous. That young self yearns for sanctuary. 


We can’t stay in sanctuary forever, because if we do, we are fugitives from live. Nobody needs to be safe forever. But it’s good that sanctuary is there when we feel threatened.

Day 4 Lenten Meditation: Passion



My idea of a creation story for this earth: The world was created in a burst of passion, with the raw materials for life combining in a great explosion of potentiality. 


Passion brings worlds into being.

When I write passionately, I create dystopias at times, but I plant the seeds for reclamation. 

Passion makes us reach out for justice.

When I see a kindred spirit, I feel passion for their presence.

Passion to live turns every day into love.

When I am most passionate, I come to know myself better.

Passion infuses us with becoming.




Day 3 Lenten Meditation: Risk





Without risk, there is no reward. There is only buckling in to the forces inside and outside of us.

Many examples of healthy, responsible risk-taking exist. Investing money for return on investment, dating, expressing one’s feelings, submitting creative works for publication, going up for a promotion. Confronting corruption and injustice, changing the status quo and being authentic also take risks.

Risk instills fear — of rejection, of failure, of loss, of negative consequences. Many people focus on the loss instead of the potential gain, and we call them risk-averse. Avoiding risk has its cost — lost opportunity, lack of progress, and a dearth of fulfillment. 

Choosing risk for its potential rewards may require changing one’s mindset with one or more of the following:

  • Examining the fear against the potential return
  • Believing that one will survive the worst case scenarios
  • Feeling the fear and taking the risk anyway 
Without risk, there is no reward. There is only buckling in to the forces inside and outside of us.

Day 2 Lenten Meditation: Commitment

This is a hard thing for me to write about, because I feel the guilt of all the times I broke my commitments because of depression.

My enthusiasm (and hypomania) would carry me into trying to do something but the depression would keep me from following up. I overcommitted, I underperformed.

It took the medication for me to see who I wanted to be. I don’t over-commit these days, knowing that the only thing that keeps me from mood swings is a precarious balance of medication. But I do commit — to my job, to my marriage, to the things I believe in.

Commitment defines me. I am not just what I embrace, but what I follow through on.