She Who Listens: September 2011

Friday, September 30, 2011

Asking for Help

Okay, so my life is a bit disorganized at the moment. I am feeling a bit overwhelmed. Breathe Caris. Just breathe. Focus. Do your meditation. Do your study. Do some writing. Talk to your shrink. And then take things one step at a time. Ask for help.

There used to be this 7 year old at a summer camp in Brooklyn that I helped to run, and his favorite expletive was "Oh Man!!!" Of course you can't hear his small voice that used to rise a couple of octaves in his exclamations. His name was Jose. I remember that. Curly hair. Big green eyes. Scrappy little guy. I often hear him in my head when something is frustrating me or scaring me or being a huge disappointment. And it still makes me smile. It helps a little bit.

The photo above was taken last summer at THE WASHED ASHORE PROJECT in Bandon, Oregon. And no, this isn't art...not yet. That was dependent on the artist's vision and creativity. I don't know how she managed it, but she transformed this ugly, awful garbage (largely plastic), which came off the beaches in Bandon and the surrounding area, into some marvelous creations. A sea turtle. A giant squid. Henry, the fish which sat in front of the purple yurt. he was orange and yellow. You can see his beginnings below. The artist's name is Angela Hazeltine Pozzi, and the link to the project is Washed Ashore Project Visit and enjoy yourself.

The thing is, that project would never have gotten off the ground except for the dozens, perhaps hundreds of volunteers. People who showed up to work once or twice a week, or sometimes just an evening on their way to someplace else. Angela knew when to ask for help. And the help came. It wasn't an easy thing, I spent the summer there last year, and saw some of the realities. But it was amazing how the people came. A grant writer, a personal assistant, writers, musicians, environmentalists.

Well, we have to ask, don't we. It's like the guy who prayed to win the lottery but never bought a lottery ticket. Asking is the hardest thing in the world for some of us. I'm not sure why I find it so difficult. I am usually feeling vulnerable and at my wit's end before I ask. So here we are, almost into October, and I need to be packed up and ready to go by the beginning of November, with everything in place and figured out before then. Mail forwarding. How do I do things with the RV? How does the electrical stuff work? Can I get a car alarm installed, some kind of security system? I want to have a motor scooter, so I have some transportation that doesn't cost an arm and a leg in gas. What's the best scooter to get? Should I just go buy it? How does one put stability jacks on an RV? Where do they go? How does a Kindle work? Wouldn't weigh as much as carrying books! Or should I have gotten an I Pad? And with all that new knowledge to pick up, I still have the very physical task of packing up. Okay God, Jesus, Goddess, Spirit, Universe...help me please. Send me the people who can help me figure this stuff out, and get this stuff done. I'm so tired, and there's so much to do!

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Caution!

Way back when I lived in Oregon, I was introduced to a wonderful plant called "Lamb's Quarters." I remember asking the woman who told me she had a big pot of Lamb's Quarters on the stove, "What in the world are they?" She took me back to her kitchen and handed me a bowl with some greens. I looked at them, a little nervous. And she said: "They are the best greens on God's good earth." I tasted them and concurred! I still remember that wonderful first mouthful, so tender and perfectly seasoned. They were so wonderful I found a field guide and looked for photos of the plant. My friend eventually showed me the plant as well, and told me that they are best early in the season. They are called that because the leaves look like lamb's ears and there are four leaves on the plant.

When I first moved to New York State, I was walking the woods one day. I still remember the place. There they were! Lamb's Quarters. A taste of "home." So I gathered a bunch up, and thought I'd received some manna from heaven, went off home and steamed those lovely green leaves right up. I'd made a meatloaf and mashed potatos for dinner, a little celebration because I'd found the lambs quarters. My mouth was watering and the anticipation had grown to an unbearable point, when I finally sat down at a beautiful table, complete with a candle, music in the background. I brought that first forkful of greens to my mouth. Oh....I just about choked, the acidic plant searing my taste buds.. I spit those wretched things right out of my mouth and into a nearby garbage pail, running for the sink to rinse out my mouth.

I went right online to look up Lamb's Quarters, and sure enough discovered that they have a poisonous look alike. These are the plants, though I would never have mistaken them this late in the season. They look vastly different from the coveted greens at this point. That was my last foray into the woods for some wild greens! The super market is just fine, thank you very much.

Over the years I've been learning that there are many people in the world who speak such lovely words. You feel at home in conversation with them, open up your heart, think that you've made a wonderful new friend. And then the poison starts. It is unclear to me why people are malicious. I've never understood it. There are times when I can throw acid into my tone with the best of them, but I cannot remember ever deliberately trying to hurt someone else. Those times when I do strike out, have been times when someone has gone to great lengths to do harm to me. My nature is to want friendship, to be kind, to share what I have, which isn't a lot, but it is enough. And I do my best to surround myself with people whose hearts are kind, people who inspire me to be my best self. I can tell you that those friends are keepers. They're the real thing.

The other night I shared something very personal with one of those keepers. It was something that was hard to talk about, but she heard me, and I knew she listened to me with an open heart. She will be protective of that conversation. And there is something powerful about the truth. It sets us free. And when it is received by one with a good heart, it washes away some of the poison.

So here's to loyal, true friends...I'd better not try and list them here. Too many to remember in one sitting...maybe they aren't so rare after all!

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Grandmother Spider's Reappearance

It is that time of year when the spiders want to creep indoors where it is warm. This big old spider has a web off the back deck, on some bushes. Not sure if it's a wolf spider, or some sort of brown spider that usually hangs out around water. I saw some more of them today when I stopped to look at motor scooters. Big, like this one, weaving webs on a sign post, and successfully catching insects. This one is not as large as she looks in the photo...thank heaven. The photo is a bit blurry. But you get the picture, sort of!

Back in seminary we read a book called Spiderwoman's Granddaughters by Paula Gunn Allen. It was the writing of Native women. Some interesting stories and poetry. Transformational. I took every Native American Spirituality Class offered during that time, and found my life deeply and profoundly changed. Not only from those classes, but by that time in my life. The changes in my thinking and my psyche. Powerful stuff. Spiders kept showing up. I nearly walked through a rather gigantic spider's web one day. The Spider is a symbol of change...the weaving of life and death. And when spiders appeared to people in visions, it was such a holy thing that no one would speak of it. That was frustrating to me at the time, as spiders kept showing up, and I didn't know what it all meant...except that there was something powerfully transformative happening to me, and there were no words to use.

It is an odd thing. Spiders are something that most of us fear at some level. And yet, we are almost never more than six feet away from a spider of some sort or another. Now isn't that comforting? Feeling as though something is crawling up the back of your neck?

Well, spiders are indeed showing up again. I'm not sure what it all means, (other than the equinox has just past and they are looking to come back indoors for the winter), but I can guarantee that something transformational is happening in my life. A death and new life. Not the final one of my lifetime. But this is a journey I am taking, and I am weaving my lifepath, and I sense that the ways I am meant to serve are going to come clear in my life.

Next time you meet a spider...walk through their webs or nearly come face to face. Stop a moment and listen for the wisdom Grandmother Spider may have to offer in her weaving. Her amazing capacity for creation. How your story is woven into the Story She has woven from before time.

The Heavens Are Telling of the Glory of God

Yellow Stone Lake

There is a very scholarly discussion on the lectionary discussion list to which I am subscribed. It is interesting on some levels, though theology in and of itself has never been the thing I am most interested in. I tend toward being a bit of a hermit, and over the past weeks there have been exchanges about the necessity of community, and of course the strong support there for the institutional church. It is a bit biased as most of the list are clergy. My own background is quite ecumenical, and more recently it has held influences from Buddhism. But ultimately my roots are Christian.

I find it quite amusing that yesterday I was writing about faeries, when the strong position for traditional Christian theology was being posted. It stirs that hornets nest don't ya know. I remember when one of my professors from seminary left church as he was just worn out. His last words to me were that he just wanted church people to leave him alone. I've tried to remain connected to "church" over the years. But the past couple of years my associations have been more distant. And the kinds of discussion happening on that e-list have become increasingly less interesting to me. I am beginning to understand why so many people have left the church. It isn't just about the hurt and hypocrisy. It goes deeper than that. The rules, unspoken and spoken, have become burdensome. And much of "traditional Christian Theology" has been handed down to us through a very patriarchal system.

It is a great passion and love of mine to follow the lectionary passages each week. It is quite wonderful to be back in that spiritual practice. I believe there are new movements afoot because Jesus has become a bit weary with the legalism of so much that is "church." And I can appreciate scholarly pursuits as much as the next person, but at the end of the day, they don't bring me or many others the comfort and the strength to walk the talk.

Thank God witch hunts are limited to gossip and shunning these days. No more burning people at the stake for their heresies. I'd rather be in the good company of the women who practiced natural healing arts, and gave their lives because of that, than in the company of somebody totally lost in academic thought, so busy with his own ego that he doesn't have humility or grace to make room for others who think differently than he does.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Faeries and Hornets and the Forest

Faeries have always seemed a little "too out there" for me to believe in. Poor Tinker Bell, her light fades as I write! Not that I haven't wanted to believe. But I'm not sure as to what I am believing in? Where do they fit in the theological stuff that fills my life with it's exploration, feeding the scholar and the mystic simultaneously. I'm not sure I ever believed in faeries. As a kid that make believe world was not the kind I wandered within. My make believe world was fairly morbid. Stories were grim. Ghosts and murdered children and mysteries on horse ranches. There wasn't a lot of fun and frolic and the light heartedness that makes room for faeries. It feels as though I missed out on something important, and that perhaps it would be a good time to revisit that place. But I think when you miss that as a child, it is very difficult to ever find that space inside of yourself.
And you kind of look with skepticism at people who do seem to believe in that stuff. Like, what's that about? Seems childlike at best and childish at the worst, but secretly I wish I could believe. I never much liked being a child. There was just a little more control when you got to sit at the adult table to eat, or play cards with the adults after dinner. Dolls and faeries and make believe just didn't compete with riding my bike all over town, fast as could be, or roller skating, or swimming or riding horses on the farm, or feeding the goats, or climbing haystacks. I don't know, maybe it's having grown up on the prairies that make for a more realistic and practical view of the world.

Then there is this photo over to the left. A hornets' nest. It makes me nervous just looking at it. A not so nice resident of the forest, but a very real one. That is something with which I am familiar, and the kind of thing I know to avoid. It is interesting that faeries make me every bit as uncomfortable as a hornet's nest, isn't it?

I guess it's just that whether you're treking through faerie forests or the solid, down to earth kind, there are always dangers. Things to fear. Things to understand and to treat with respect. And things to give a wide berth.

People that believe in faeries don't frighten me. They're just a bit eccentric, and in my world that's just fine. But when your theology sits on the left, there always seem to be hornet's nests. You can be just walking down the path and not even hear the buzzing, when you're on top of a nest and you didn't realize you were, and suddenly all those angry hornets are after you. I've gotten stung enough to try and avoid confrontation with those formidable insects.

These days, I guess I'd rather just stay far away from those whose theology makes so little room for loving one's neighbor. These days I prefer to let the hornets live their lives without my interference, or even my observation. I try to keep my eyes open for trouble spots, so we can live in the same vicinity in peace.

Maybe that's why I love water so much. Hornets don't. I just want to hang out where there's as little trouble as possible.

And if I see a faerie, or even a whisper that might be, I'll try not to ignore it. Impossibility, the Implausible, the miraculous and the joyful...well, those things I am well familiar with, and the faeries seem to be well acquainted with them as well. So I suspect we'll be friends. Though it's still like pulling teeth to write about them!

Monday, September 26, 2011

Favorites

Cosmos are some of my favorite flowers. My "anam cara" or soul friend laughs at me and tells me that I say that about every flower. I guess that is true. Lilacs are my favorite when they appear in the spring, sending their fragrance all over creation. Hisbiscus are now one of my favorite flowers as well. Deep red and passionate. I've discovered a hisbiscus cooler at the Yellow Deli you should try. It's a taste of heaven. Lily of the Valley have been my favorite ever since a friend compared me to them when I was in college. And cosmos are just such friendly flowers, and I love pink. I mean how can you choose between flowers? I'll take them all! Please. Flowers brighten my day in a way that only good news at the mechanic's can come close to! I always remember when I moved from Nebraska to go to school at Concordia College in Bronxville. Waiting in my room was a big bouquet of flowers from dear friends, sisters, Sarah and Shirley who knew I loved flowers. They, the flowers, were treasured during those first days of adjusting to a new school, knowing that old friends held me close in their hearts.

The cosmos above are late in the season...the photo taken just before the first frost. Did they survive? T., owner of the cabin where I usually stay when I visit Ithaca, had been thinking about cutting them back as they were so tall and often in the way. Just not practical to have these tall, gangly flowers reaching out over the sidewalk when you're trying to carry groceries into the house. Yeah. Flowers aren't always practical. Beauty doesn't always fill that bill. But they do something for the soul. "When you have only two pennies left in the world, buy a loaf with one and a lily with the other." A Chinese Proverb Lily, cosmos, lilacs, a rose (the wild roses are delicious during June in Oregon! Oh, and the wild iris that grow on the coast in May are exquisite...

Oh dear...start me on the subject of flowers and I'm perfectly hopeless!

Timing

"Timing is everything" they say. And sometimes it is. This little guy was moving fast in his field of clover. Being born in a field of clover is a wonderful thing if you're a caterpillar, but there comes a time, and the time has come, when one needs to make a cocoon. Time is passing quickly and autumn is a stone's throw away. So I suspect Mr. Fuzz was rushing to find an appropriate spot to surround himself with that silky stuff of cocoons, readying himself for a long sleep and perhaps butterfly status come spring.

There are times in our lives when we need to be aware of timing. Times when we have to hurry toward the life that is waiting for us. Times when enjoying clover is pretty much over, and perhaps we've lingered too long and we need to rush, to push through to find where we're supposed to be. Those times are not easy on us, or on the people around us. Leaving the familiar means gathering all of our resources together and pushing through our fear. It means that some who are close will distance themselves from us, unaware of their own anger and pain in our leaving. Others will push us out of their way so they can move on with their lives. Still others will be very aware of their grief, pain spilling out, nearly drowning us in the emotion that accompanies leaving, and as much compassion as we have, we still know we must go, despite their pain, despite our own pain and fear, despite the chaos our going creates.

It takes courage and grace to find one's way to being a butterfly. Saying goodbye to being a caterpillar. Leaving the familiar. Dying a kind of death so something new may emerge into glory. Some never manage it. Some get eaten on the way. Some just can't let go into that death. And some never find the strength to emerge out of that long sleep and make their way into the world. But of course, some do.

And that means "GLORY!" However briefly butterflies live, their beauty never ceases to stop me in my tracks. Their very being is a glorious prayer.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Questions

Hopefully this isn't a photo of profanity. I haven't a clue as to what this says. Perhaps some one of you knows. Do let me know if you do!

Who decides whether a certain thing is a piece of art or whether it's junk? Who is the authority? Is it the owner of a gallery? The artist himself or herself? The person looking at the art?

Who makes the decision about publishing a book and whether or not it is the right thing to do? These days self publishing bypasses some of the process, and you can find a wide variety in the quality of self published books. Who is the authority? Authority contains the word author. So does the creator of the story or a book of poetry have that authority? Or does the readership of the book make that decision? Is it about how many people read it? Or is it in the quality of the writing?

Just some questions I've been wondering about.

Invisible

So that's a crazy name for a photo, isn't it? I mean why would you do that? A photo either has something in it, or it does not. So why in the world say it has a sun dog when the photo doesn't show that? Well, I suppose I do things like that because I'm a bit eccentric. Always have been. But the real reason in this case, is that there was a wonderful sun dog...a beautiful rainbow like thing around the sun. My camera however, didn't like being pointed into the sun and simply refused to pick it up. I tried many times to capture it, as that rainbow like thing was a beacon of hope to me that day. A kind of confirmation, off in the west, that it is time to go chase rainbows again.

Perhaps it is no accident that it is invisible. There are some moments that one cannot completely capture and at the same time keep it free. It is enough for me to know that the sun dog was there that day. It was enough to feel Spirt's whisper, and to open my heart to that moment. And more than that, wanting to pin down that moment was too much to ask. There are many times that moments do get recorded. But it is a good thing to remember that they are records of moments. Only that.

Spirit likes her freedom.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Living Waters

Someone, in a poem I think, likely Mary Oliver, but I can't quite remember where I read it, was speculating on whether or not water is a living thing. I like to think about it in quiet moments. It is obvious that you and I walk around, breathe, eat, sleep, our cells regenerate. But water, well, that's not quite so clear is it? It doesn't really have the six characteristics of life, so scientifically, it is not alive. And perhaps it isn't. Or perhaps some water is. There is some water that is so sweet and wonderful and tastes better than anything in the world. Of course, water is tasteless, right? Unless it's got sulfur in it. But I've tasted really sweet water, that feels alive when I drink it. Much of the bottled water does not taste as though it has any life in it whatsoever. There's a sort of blankness to it. I know, I know, this sounds crazy. But crazy as it may sound, I would bet that you have tasted water that has a sort of dead quality to it. And water that tastes wonderfully alive.

The scriptural references to water are many. This week's lectionary has the passage about the water in the wilderness...of Moses striking a rock and water beginning to flow. And there is the passage where Jesus tells the woman at the well he would give her living water to drink, and she would never thirst again. And there is the scripture in the psalms which says: "Like a tree that is planted at the water's edge, those who put their trust in God's word will bear fruit in season." Water is one of those things we need on a daily basis. Every single day. Well, we could go three days without it, but it's not a good idea to do so. Being well hydrated keeps us from getting sick. It moves the toxins through our system so they don't get stuck some place and cause problems. I wonder how long it had been for the Israelites before they started to complain? A few hours? A day? Two days? or were they stretched to their limit? Had it been much too long since they'd had a drink. I get their complaints, their fear, their arguments with Moses. Moses doesn't seem to be very understanding. Because he was the leader did he perhaps have access to all the things the average Joe did not? Moses was on the privileged side of things, even though he had his problems too. But I wonder if he lacked compassion sometimes.

God provided. Told Moses to hit the rock in front of the elders so they were witness to the miracle. And water came gushing out. So the story goes.

The trick to having access to living water seems to be connected to the Word. Study, prayer, meditation conversation, worship...those are the things that pour out new life in us. Well...having it and not having it are things I've experienced. When I pay attention and listen up on a regular basis, there is a certain flow. Sometimes it almost seems as though one becomes part of that living water, streaming down the hillside, flowing toward that immense ocean that is God's very self.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Master Story Teller

Aging is a process. I am aware of it in my own body and my mind. Things are changing.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Familiar

This trail is familiar to me. I have walked it often over the years. Most of the time it's been just with Madeline the dog. But once in a while I've walked here with friends. I know this place. It's many moods. This one is subdued, a gentle rain falling, which is actually the beginning of the rain that brought the flooding. There is the mysterious feeling, when it is full of mist, and sounds take on strange connotations. There is the glorious, happy landscape, full of the light from a rising sun who's rays touch everything with a kiss.

Familiarity can be a wonderful thing. Living in the same place for 13 years means that your roots stretch out all over the place. Familiarity can be a frustrating thing as well. In small town life, when you roots stretch out all over the place, and so many people have been part of your life at one time or another, well, there aren't many secrets. And people somehow believe that it's their right to know your private affairs. It can be a kind of voyeurism in small town life. A very odd thing.

I'm thinking of a man who was rumored to have had an affair and whose sexual preferences were talked about all over town. And there was that woman who was selling drugs and lost so much when it came out. And the young woman with a mental illness. She was well liked until it became common knowledge. Now she's isolated and alone. There is all kinds of speculation that goes around about such stories. We certainly need to know when someone is a danger to others and take appropriate steps. But I wonder how far we take matters into our own hands, believing we have a right to personal information about peoples' lives. And then we make judgments, and make life more difficult for the judged, and we become self righteous. We think we feel better about ourselves because WE don't engage in such things.

Human beings are communal creatures. We need each other in this world. We need to feel less alone. We need a sense of belonging. We can find that belonging without excluding someone else.

The trouble with gossip and exclusion is that one day it comes back around to the one who starts it. Whether you call it Karma, or simply believe that what goes around comes around, people who cause other people to suffer, will end up suffering themselves.

Kindness extended goes such a long way. Refusing to participate can end a matter before it begins. Caring about a person's well being and being respectful of each other, even when we don't understand some things is a better road.

I hope that's the road I will walk through my life. A place where mercy and justice meet.

Friday, September 16, 2011

Failures, Successes and Spiritual Guides

Interesting thoughts about Henri Nouwen from Diane Walker this morning at her Contemplative Photography blog. She talks about Henri's need for approval when he was alive, and how some people thought his inability to live out some of his writing meant he wasn't fit to be a spiritual guide to others. Ms. Walker goes on the say that it is often our failures that give us the ability to write about the struggle.

Well, I can see both points of view. I sat and watched Oprah's master class a couple of Sundays ago, and loved it. I didn't agree with absolutely everything she said, but much of it, born out of her own successes was good advice. Especially profound for me was an incident in which she surrendered her need to succeed...even picturing someone else in the position of success. To me, that is success. To surrender our own intense needs for acceptance and approval and to trust in the process. Obviously Oprah has succeeded!

This is something I am beginning to try out. I have my own intense needs for approval. And when that is threatened I really pull into myself. It's not an easy thing to release this stuff. I feel a deep fear when someone else in the writing group that I started, steps into a leadership role, and I feel as though I get overshadowed. I want to push her aside, think of mean things to say or stamp my foot. The ridiculous part of all that, is that I will be leaving soon, and someone needs to lead it! And so I am practicing what it means to surrender...to surrender my group to God, to surrender my need to be in the lime light, to surrender my need to control, to surrender my vision. But, but, but...I want to cry out, I started the group. I worked hard to get people there. I have loved it and nurtured it.

And it was never MINE to begin with. It belongs to all of us. And that is what I love about it. And I hope that if it continues it will hold that at center. It belongs to us all. That's my leadership style, to create space for everyone to shine and to share in the leading. But of course if someone else has a different style, it can't be right!!!!

And so I share with you my weakness. Putting it out there. And I am practicing surrender, which I am hoping will lead to some new breakthroughs and possibilities.

You know the picture of the leaf and grass, is a reminder that in nature there is food for life in that which is lost. There is no such thing as failure. It is simply how we learn on our way.

I'm picking up my new to me RV today. Adventures are waiting. Deep, deep breath. I have much to learn. And I am capable of learning it.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Gratitude

A friend of mine was telling me this morning about a friend of hers who lost everything in the flood. Everything that is except his life, his car, his computer and a couple of other incidental items. His main feeling is gratitude. That sort of buoyed me up! I am in the process of packing to travel for a time and eventually perhaps move to another area. The move isn't totally my own choice. It comes about from some other situations in my life that are more than unpleasant and have to do with other people. Letting go of my anger and the resentments has been full time work. That work is pretty much caught up to date. Walking around last week saying to myself, almost shouting to myself: "Nobody owes me anything." Was a marvelous gift. And I felt it.

And today I am feeling the grief of letting go into the unknown, and possibly not coming back here to what has been home for so many years. And some of the resentments reassert themselves. But now I know how to release them and move on. Not get caught and tangled in their web. And that is an amazing gift.

This is a time for clearing out and beginning again. And that can be very hard work. Physical, emotional, spiritual work. So my friend's friend, who has that sense of gratitude in having survived is gift to me today. An inspiration and a hope. As people all around are cleaning up the muck from the flood, trying to reassemble their lives in some way, I will be praying and doing what little I can to help. I think sandwich making on a large scale is in my future. At least to some degree.

And may there be some joy. Even in the midst of loss and grief and having to pick oneself up and start all over again, may there be joy...and gratitude, for being alive and having a future to work toward.

The Wilderness is Waiting...

There's a bend in the river
the waters seem still
but if you listen you can hear
the singing, the rushing, the roaring
you can feel your heart thrill.
It is just ahead,
you are moving toward
the change,
and any moment now
the churning chaotic waters
will demand your full attention.
Get ready to paddle
for all you're worth
as you enter the fray.
Set your mind and your heart
for the journey you are on
this moment, this day,
requires your full commitment.
And even with all the seriousness of that
and the demands
and the dangers
and sometimes the terror
There is unfathomable joy
as your boat hits the first splash
and you're covered in spray.
Live into it.
Let yourself feel that joy.
No more robbing yourself
open yourself to the wild,
whirling waters of life
this wonderful world
this glorious life.

The journey awaits! I am preparing myself. Your prayers are appreciated.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Coffee and Friends

This is another one of my favorite spots in Ithaca. There is a lovely chair off to the right of this photo...a pair of chairs, that I often find available when I stop by for a rest, and a latte. How in the world did I get introduced to this world of flavored, foamy, so strong coffee you need half the cup filled with milk? I suspect my interest was left over from my early 20s when I lived in Brooklyn for a time, and my friend Virginia would ply me with this thick Spanish coffee. It was more like syrup than coffee. You had to add 3/4 cup of milk, and she would put in about 7 teaspoons of sugar to make it palatable. I had never had such coffee before. But then when you grow up in a house where decaf instant is a staple, you can probably see why I didn't develop a true taste for coffee until my adult years. I loved that Spanish coffee. Or maybe I loved sitting and talking with my friends around Virginia's table, our bellies so full of rice and beans and her favorite Sarah Lee Pound cake that we had to unzip our jeans to be comfortable. The coffee was part of the deal at the end of that exquisite meal, and part of the company. The laughter that filled that inner city Brooklyn apartment was loud and raucous and beautiful. Friendships with women are a staple in my life.

My Tuesday night women's writing group that gathers around the table in a wonderful local coffee shop each week is another experience rich in its own flavor. I sip a sugarfree Hazelnut, skim milk latte, my little splurge for the week, as we write together, read the surprising and wonderful things we've written, and laugh hugely. Last night we sang to each other as we ended. What a terrific group of women...from someone who is known internationally for her sculptures, to a woman who writes grants and works hard for justice issues, to another who cares for an aging mother in law and is one of the most giving and loving people I know, not to mention a gifted writer, to an ordained interfaith minister, to an amazing musician and well known singer, to the most gifted storyteller from Wales, to a young woman who loves the environment and works to educate others about it, to a few others who pop in from time to time that I don't know as well... and then there is me, poet, writer, musician, photographer and sometimes preacher, who is about to embark on a long journey to a new home.

And then of course there is my very best friend from Canada, who makes coffee so strong and bitter I can't begin to put enough milk in it, and I am trying to cut back on my sugar! One with whom I laugh, and feel so able to be myself...someone who sees me for who I am. Someone who gets my humor. Someone who shares my same commitment to faith, and has such a kind and generous nature. We have shared many a latte over the 7 years we have known each other, sharing our secrets and dreams as well.

Over the years, from the time I was a young adult working in inner city Brooklyn, to my present life, my dear women friends and all those cups of coffee have been consistently present. I wish you such a life, full of rich flavors, belly laughs and dreams.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Manna"

What was that flaky stuff that fell every day in the wilderness, giving the Israelites food enough for the day? I wasn't there, so I cannot guess what it may have been. Some give it scientific possibilities. This is from the far reaches of my memory, so don't quote me on this, but somewhere I think (how scholarly of me!) I read that it might have been the excrement of a certain worm that lived in that region. And that worm or insect was most active during the night hours, and so the manna was present in the mornings. I sometimes don't want to know the answers...I prefer to simply think of it as providence. God's hand, and a miracle. Though if indeed it was the excrement of a worm, I must say that I can't blame them for bitterly complaining! But who am I to make any judgment of them or of God in the process? I do enough of my own complaining. Of course I offer lots of gratitude these days. There is much to be thankful for. But I'm human, and sometimes things feel really hard.

The manna God provides for me is found in the simple and ordinary everyday miracles. The blood flowing beneath my skin. The great gift of clean, running water. Hot and cold most days. (We lost our water heater in the recent flooding, so for a couple of days it was only cold! Those puppies are expensive to buy and have installed these days. Double what it was back in the flood of 2006. But thankfully our plumber, who is the best of the best, had it here and installed within hours. No long waits or excuses. Great, honest fellow who does his job well, and is fair about the price of things.)

God provides, and it is enough. And I believe this comes more deeply true with each passing day for me. As I have relinquished and surrendered my resentments, and can honestly say "No one owes me anything," I am finding that there is enough. God provides enough, and that doesn't mean that life doesn't have it's struggles and difficulties, but it does mean that there is a gift in it all, when I stop to find it.

There is provision in ways we sometimes do not expect. But somehow we live each day, and somehow, even in the losses and the griefs, when people we once looked up to, turn out to be cowardly, when institutions disappoint us, when we disappoint ourselves. Even in the midst of it all, there is manna. It takes wide opened eyes, a wide open heart, and gratitude for the gathering, gratitude for the taste, the aroma, the feel, the sight, the sound (which may be a quiet whisper) of the gift of that manna.

Monday, September 12, 2011

September 12th

The 250 color slides made at the World Trade Towers in New York City on September 11, 2001, received from the New York District Attorney's office from an unattributed photographer, are in the public domain. These slides were received from the New York District Attorney's office with the photographer relinquishing any and all copyright and right of attribution. Therefore, the photographer's name will not be associated with these photographs. Privacy and publicity rights may apply. Credit line shall read "Courtesy of the Prints and Photographs Division. Library of Congress."

Today is a good day to remember because it is the day following September 11th. A pastor from an email list I receive, said that perhaps we have allowed September 11th to define us. He may be right. He also said to remember September 12th. The people who came to help, the men and women who risked their lives searching through the rubble. The support that came from friends and relatives of the survivors. The outpouring of support. There was an unused church in the neighborhood that became the place the workers came to eat and to rest. Meals were served without cost. People donated food. The finest chefs in the city were volunteering their time to cool the meals.

Let's remember September 12th. All the kindness from people around the world who reached out, who prayed who sent messages of support and who came to help. Fire and rescue workers came from Canada. We could go on and on. And I know that the people of New York, whether from the neighborhood of the Twin towers, the surrounding area, Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island, the Bronx or from further afield, even those of us from upstate, do remember the strength that was found within and beside those who suffered: those who lost their loved ones, those who were injured, those who lost their lives in the aftermath of 9/11.

I have a hard time remembering that day, even all these years later, without deep emotions surfacing. I think I let it pass and speak of it later, so as to stay in some sort of balance. Each personal story I hear about the event touches me deeply, and I know that for the people of New York, 9/11 has shaped and defined us. And some of that may not be to our advantage, when fear has taken us down roads of anger and a desire for revenge. But there was and is so much more than that...there was courage and love and a pulling together that makes me feel profound gratitude that I live in New York state.

Each day I receive an email from Diane Walker, "Contemplative Photography." I think it comes a day late. But in this context it was right on time. May this be our prayer for those who have harmed us:

“O Lord, remember not only the men and women of good will, but also those of ill will. But do not remember all the suffering they have inflicted on us, remember the fruits we have bought, because of this suffering - our comradeship, our loyalty, our humility, our courage, our generosity, the greatness of heart that has grown out of all of this, and when they come to judgement, let all the fruits we have borne be their forgiveness.”
-- The prayer of an unknown woman, found on a piece of wrapping paper in Ravensbruck concentration camp; taken from Monica Furlong's book, Women Pray.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Letting Go

This is a photo of a point in Oregon. I remember that day...the truck was full of somebody else's garbage. I had gone to the dump, but found it was closed. I was really wanting to take a day for myself that day (how typical! Some time off, and there I was hauling around bags of smelly garbage...and they belonged to someone else to boot. At least the majority of it.) Sometimes when we get beat up in life, we end up hauling around someone else's stuff. It wasn't our making. We had very little to do with the way it got thrown into the back of our old truck, but there it is. Now we could throw it off onto the side of the road where someone else will have to deal with it, and then we become culpable in the whole matter of someone else getting their hands dirty with that garbage. Or we can go around carrying someone else's garbage, and having it stink to high heaven. Or we can get it to the dump. If the dump is closed that day, I would suggest that you not ride around with that stinky load. Just go back home until you can drop it off. I am speaking from experience. Dozens of tourists watching the seals below, just don't appreciate stinky garbage on their days off. It doesn't matter if it's your only day to do this for months. They just don't like it! You get dirty looks, and then pretty soon you feel as though you're covered with garbage, and more bags get piled up in the back of your truck. That's thing that happens when you carry around garbage. That old stinking stuff attracts more stinking stuff. Figure out how you can get it to the dump. Figure out how you can let it go. Then go home and clean out the back of the truck. Clean it until it shines. And then to heck with it all, take your day at the beach! Go watch the seals. Listen to them and you will really hear them...instead of having the stench of that garbage floating around you, mixing with that experience and taking away some of the joy of it. And believe me, you want to feel the joy of all those hundreds of seals calling to each other with the roar of the surf in the background. There's nothing else like it in the world. It will make you laugh and cry at the same time.

Don't let anyone steal one more moment of this precious life. You deserve to live it fully.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Walls

I like the looks of this wall. Makes me want to tuck prayers or wishes in its cracks. It has its purpose where it is, and many walls do. They create landscape, keep pests at bay, keep boundaries in place, make people feel safe, keep other people out...oh, that may not be the best purpose a wall can serve. And of course it isn't just physical walls like this that I'm talking about. We have all kinds of walls we put up around ourselves to protect ourselves. Sometimes it's the "right people," sometimes it's an emotional wall, being aloof or distant, being curt or judgmental, using some substance to keep out the pain.

Peter Paul and Mary used to sing a song called "Some Walls." Some walls are made of stone, sometimes, we build our own, some walls stand for years, some melt away with tears.

The other day one of Joan Chittister's emails arrived in my box with powerful words: God comes in every voice, behind every face, in every memory, deep in every struggle. To close off any of them is to close off the possibility of becoming new again ourselves.
— Joan Chittister

A few years ago I put some walls in place that shut out some people that I had loved for a long time, and who had loved me. I had gotten hurt and I couldn't find my way toward forgiving that hurt. I cut off two longterm friendships. Over time I've come to realize just how terrible a mistake that was. But there's no going back. I have opened my heart again, but the pain I caused now has a life of its own, and though in one case, the old friend has forgiven me, there is no longer a free and easy exchange. Trust was broken and it will take time and a great deal of effort to heal. In the other case, I've only recently "repented," and forgiveness may not come.

I don't like Sr. Chittister's words in some ways to be honest. What about people who are being or have been abused? They shouldn't step out of those relationships? I find myself feeling the need to go out and buy some new bricks for one of my walls. Some of them crumble before God's love and mercy. But some things, though forgiveable, cannot be mended. Sometimes a wall must remain for our own safety and wellbeing.

Relationships are challenging. Deeply challenging. And the people we love the most, are the ones we cause the most pain. It is also those people who can most deeply hurt us. What's the solution? Not bigger and thicker and higher walls, but bigger hearts.

Friday, September 9, 2011

Change

So much chaos comes along with change. It is disconcerting at best, and terrifying at its worst. Change creeps up on us, surprising us. It throws us upside down sometimes and we're left hanging there, looking at our world from a perspective that is confusing. Then it tosses us to the ground where we find ourselves gasping for air and wondering how in the world we let ourselves get into this situation. Then the earth moves and threatens to swallow us up, or the waters from a left over hurricane have the rivers overflowing their banks and rising to our doorsteps or filling our basements. Or a raging fire chases us out of our homes, carrying only the necessities with us. We are vulnerable human beings, our lives subject to change. Some would love things to remain the same for a lifetime. But many of us are grateful for changes which come along...often times looking backwards on it, seeing the blessing it brings with it.

Breathe deeply friends. Hold onto that which is unchangeable. We are not alone in the midst of the chaos. There is one who speaks peace to our hearts.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

High Waters

"The Susquehanna, Otsego County, NY"

With all the stories about flooding, no one seems to mention the stench of death which goes along with it. It smelled really bad when I went down to the river today to look around. Not many people out. We probably shouldn't have been there. People that were out were there to look at the damage and the wild water probably should have stayed where it was safe. We get this false sense of safety standing there, just beyond the river's reach we think. But the parking lot could have been washed away in an instance, and we could have been washed away as well. My own sense of fear was heightened as I stood there, so close to the raging water. It splashed up close to my foot once and my heart started to jump around.

Many places downtown were open this afternoon. But not out near the mall on route 23. The flood is sobering. And it makes me want to find other people to be around. It makes me want to know that I'm not cut off and alone.

The rain has held off this afternoon here. But other places aren't so fortunate. There's some blue sky from time to time through the clouds and I'm singing my blue sky song and visualizing the sun coming out to dry up all the rain, so the itsy bitsy spider can crawl up the spout again. You know, we are pretty itsy bitsy when it comes to forces of nature. We are vulnerable and small, and as many have experienced over these days, our lives can be washed away in seconds.

My prayers are with the people who are afraid and grieving and feeling as though life is impossible in this moment. May they know they are not alone. Let's be good neighbors and reach out as we can. Also, prayers for the people effected by the fire at St. James Food Pantry. There couldn't be a worse time for it to happen. So many are in need of it.

Caris

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Sunshine We Miss You! A b

Bend in the Road

We are missing the sunshine here in Otsego County, New York. Everyone join me in imagining the sun coming out in full force with a dry breeze to dry up all the water. The flooding is serious in many places throughout the states.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

There are times when adventures await. Times when Spirit's whisper is so insistent, she turns into a whole pep club, cheering and waving her arms until you finally give in and follow. There are times when there is just no escaping the fact that she is granting your deepest heart's desire, your 5 year plan is suddenly turned on its side and chaos ensues as you rush to put your shoes on, grab your bag and head out the door to regions unknown. There are times when the God of the belly button (this is a phrase I borrow from Edwina Gately, a delightful Catholic layperson who has done spectacularly amazing things for women struggling to get out of prostitution in the inner city of Chicago), will not let up. She just tugs and tugs until you want to cut the cord! Listen to your belly button Edwina tells us. Even when it looks impossible, improbable, unrealistic. Trust the God of the belly button and follow! Head on down the road. There will no doubt be a Red Sea to cross, but you have the faith to get there. There will be all kinds of fear and doubt shouting at you, telling you to go back to the familiar, the comfortable, the things you know, even though they were killing you. There will demons at your back, the sound of rushing horses and chariots, whips, shouting, the battle is nearly upon you. Stop, listen, don't let fear be the basis of your decision. Pay attention, look around, and do the thing that is impossible. Face your fear and wade in...ankle deep, knee deep, hip deep, chest deep, neck and shoulders deep...and when it has risen up to your nostrils, then the waters will part, your psyche will make way, and the enemy at your back will be lost in the chaos, as you walk into freedom.

There is still a long journey ahead. The road to freedom isn't an easy one. There are no short cuts. But you will be across that first obstacle, and you will know that the God who was in the cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night for the children of Israel, is the same God who is tweaking your belly button so insistently as to be doggoned annoying! Go with the Spirit. Just go. And trust that endings lead to endless possibility and new life.

We're here in your corner, cheering you on! You've got what it takes.

This is one of my favorite spots to go and allow things to wash away. A place to let go of things that hurt or frustrate, humiliate or confuse me. What magic is there about waterfalls that one comes away from a visit feeling as though all the muck is washed away, at least for the moment?

I have seen this waterfall in every season now...during late summer when the water levels are fairly low. I have gone during the autumn when the leaves are golden and crimson, a frame of such blazing color around her joyous rushing waters. I have gone during the winter when she is frozen solid, the ice colored white and green and pale blue. (I wonder, are there fish frozen in that frozen waterfall? Just suspended there in midair for the winter?) And during the spring, when how many millions of gallons flow over those rocks every day? She is a powerful force, this waterfall. Not to be reckoned with, but respected.

There are some who have not respected her power. Some who venture too closely to all that falling water, and end up injured or drowned.

It is essential to recognize the flow of power, and then to respect it. This waterfall has been a consistent healing presence in my life for which I am immensely grateful. And yet for others she is the source of injury or loss. A lack of respect for power, becoming arrogant or careless can have heartbreaking consequences. Sometimes it is our own power that we forget that we have, and we are the ones who become arrogant or careless, causing immeasurable harm to another.

Oops...there I go again, sermonizing a bit. I'm thinking about a situation in my own life where I became arrogant, when someone elses power caused me harm. I wielded my own power in a kind of retaliation, without even realizing that was what I was doing.

I want water of life to flow through me in abundance. But may it bring life and peace. May it be a source of comfort...a place where others can come and pour out their sadness, their loss, their anger, and know that it will be gently washed away. And when they leave, may they find themselves renewed, clear headed, cool and clean on a hot summer day, ready to get back in the fray of living.

Monday, September 5, 2011

Symbols of Power

The turtle is one of my favorite symbols. I like them in person as well.

Turtles are said to be one of the symbols of the Feminine Divine. Native peoples' have creation stories that revolve around the turtle carrying the world upon its back.

Snapping turtles are tenacious, and they can be about as nasty as any creature one can imagine meeting. They hiss at the dangers they encounter. Not as prone to more peaceful solutions as some other kinds of turtle.

Sea turtles are gorgeous creatures...well some of them. I'm not sure about some of the shelless varieties. A sea turtle moves slowly on land, but once in its element, it can swim sixty miles an hour!!! That seems so amazing to me.

Turtles seem to be one of my totems. I can be found rescuing them as they cross busy roads. I am quick to pull into my shell at the first sign of danger, though I can be tenacious about some things! And put me in my element and you'll see amazing things happen.

It's odd that I can't wax eloquent on the topic of turtles. There was Fred of course. If you've been following my blog you'll know the story of Fred. And there was an extraordinarily beautiful painted turtle I found in my childhood. It was the most beautiful thing I think I've ever seen. It was really big for a turtle in Nebraska. I suppose snappers grow that big there. But this was not a snapper. It was an amazingly gorgeous turtle that came to me for a very short time. That story has a very sad ending that I won't tell you about.

My most recent encounter with a turtle was a very large snapping turtle crossing the road to get to some unknown destination. I was going to try and help him across, but that was not to be. I had no leather gloves in my trunk. No burlap bag there either. Mary Oliver is a good influence on me for many things, but I don't quite have her courage in the matter of snapping turtles. I left him to his own devices. And sometimes, that's not such a bad thing. I think he made it across. Let's hope.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Friends...

We sing a song at the UU called "We Laugh, We Sing..." and one of the lines talks about the importance of friends. Friends are golden. I have known so many over the years. People I treasure. People I value. Not everyone is still a part of my life, but I remember each with gratitude. Even the friendships that ended badly. We all have those. Misunderstanding, miscommunication, selfishness, thoughtlessness, anger can bring relationships to a grinding halt. Sometimes even some forms of emotional abuse happen. Too much clinginess. Too much exclusivity. Too much dependence. The list goes on and on. When I can, I try to reach out and heal and reconcile. But it isn't always realistic, is it? Sometimes we have to accept endings as part of our lives.

But then there are those long time friends who are just there through thick and thin, who know you and all your warts, and find you loveable all the same!

I am so grateful for mine! (my friends of course...not my warts... I know that's what you were thinking!)

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Imaginary World? Or the Kin-dom of the Heart?

This was taken at the Ithaca Children's Garden. It's a lovely spot, and I will post some more photos over the week from there. An interesting subject this purple door. Children's lives have fewer stringent lines. A door isn't necessarily a boundary, as it is in the adult world. A door is full of possibility. What lies behind it? Where will it lead? Will there be some amazing other world there? I suppose every door has an element of that, but looking through a child's eyes, one can see more possibilities, and everything is surprising! When you are seeing so much of the world for the first time, it is an exciting place of discovery.
"Unless you become as a child, you cannot enter the kin-dom of God..." The dreamers, the poets, the mystics, the storytellers, the artists understand that at some level. It's not about throwing responsibility to the wind. But rather allowing ourselves to see the world with fresh eyes. Allowing ourselves the indulgence of exploring the realm of imagination. And as we do that, we plug into the Source. God. The kin-dom...that colorful, inclusive and always surprising place in the center of God's heart.

Friday, September 2, 2011

Looking Up

Most of the time I'm looking at the path in front of me, sometimes behind or to the side as I travel along. But not often do I take the time to stop and look directly overhead. I did yesterday. Trees are marvelous things to look up at...it's a whole other world. This is a weeping willow tree. I saw a nuthatch just a few feet away from me, but she was shy and hid before I could take her picture. A squirrel was chattering at me from someplace over to the right. And the breeze rustled the branches and the leaves, that familiar, ever present sound on a windy day. Whispering trees. I wonder what they might be whispering about.