Pentecost

In the Christian Church year, today is Pentecost.  When I was involved in church, it was always one of my favorite celebrations.  It's fun

Lacking Inspiration

Fear Not....Right

Here I am at the service station this morning, after having gotten pulled over last night. One of my headlights isn't working. I don't know about you, but getting stopped by the police is right up there with root canals in my list of fears. And it doesn't really make sense. I always follow the rules. I knew I hadn't been speeding or making an illegal turn, and even if I had, then I would have paid the ticket and gone on my way. Instead my hands shake, my heart pounds and I have this strange need to suddenly clean up the back seat...as though he's making a housekeeping check. Of course doing that looks suspicious...like I'm trying to cover something up. Could I have something illegal there? Like an open bottle of liquor, or a stash of drugs, or, or, or.... Nothing of the sort. I rarely drink, and won't even have half a glass of wine if I'm driving. Drugs scare the heck out of me, and the doctor has to get me in a headlock to take any medications. I hate taking drugs of any sort. I pay my taxes. I have never in my life done harm to another man, woman or child in any way, shape or form, except perhaps my younger sister in one of our “disagreements” at ages 7 and 4. So what is the big deal?

It's the old PTSD stuff and authority figures. Major problems.

It's why I have trouble staying at a job. And I say staying, because my work is never in question. I'm conscientious. I am enthusiastic and take pride in doing a job well. I most often get along pretty well with people. But people are people, and usually, after a certain period of time passes, something will happen. Someone will abuse their power in some way, and that feels impossible to stick around for, or even try to work through. I tell myself I'm not helpless anymore. But the fear gets the best of me.

Pema Chodron tells a wonderful story about a warrior who has to defeat fear, and learns that what she has to do is not to do what he says to do. Even though he is huge and scary looking and he will get right in her face, the way to win the battle is simply not to act on the fear, even if he has her convinced. That can be a pretty tough order. That can even be an impossible thing for some folks.

Pema Chodron showed up in one of my dreams. It was strange. She would just appear, sitting on a bench with other people. I'd look again and she would be gone. I suppose the wisdom of her teachings is having an impact on my life. And that is a good thing. So a Buddhist nun is showing up in my dreams. I wish she'd stick around long enough that I could speak to her. Of course knowing me, I would probably be too shy to say the right thing, or ask the right question. But I'm usually a bit bolder in my dreams. Anything is possible in that strange land.

“Be Not Afraid.” That's always the time to sit up and pay attention when some angel shows up announcing something important in scripture. Of course it seems a little ridiculous to say that to some poor, bewildered human being who doesn't know what the heck is going on with all the light effects, and hosts of angels singing “Glory....” And besides that, even the most visionary of prophets never gets more than a glimpse of the bigger picture. And the people that angels appear to, and Jesus gets involved with, are just plain, ordinary people like you and me. “Be Not Afraid” just doesn't feel like quite the right greeting. A plain old “Hello, I'm an angel, and no, you are not schizophrenic or psychotic. You're just an ordinary person who is part of a bigger story, and I need to tell you something important. So listen up. Yes, I know you are so scared you're afraid you're going to pee your pants, but I promise, you're going to get through this. I'm here to help.”

That would be a bit more down to earth. But then, angels aren't particularly down to earth most of the time.

Fear Not my friend. Traffic tickets, police lights and sirens; tornados and floods and loss and trouble are part of a bigger picture. There is help about. Angels in disguise. And who knows but a Buddhist nun might show up in your dreams to calm you down, slow you down, make you think. And you too could find yourself typing a blog in a service station.

And what would be the point of that you say? Well...I don't know. I can't see the bigger picture.

Hot Weather

I am already sweating this morning...of course I've been out for a brisk walk with the dog at 6:30, so that may account for some of it.  But most of it is this hot, humid stuff.  My joints ache, and I am so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open most of the day.  This is the hardest time of the year for me in upstate New York.  Complain, complain, complain.  Where does it get us?  No place fast. 

So instead, I will think about the first fireflies I saw last night.  Just two.  and they weren't under the apple tree, where I usually see dozens. They were over by the lilac tree.  Soon enough the others will come and have a community dance out there in the back yard. 

This morning I was reading Pema Chodron again, and I appreciated the teaching.  We walk along in the ocean and a big wave comes and knocks us down.  We get up and we keep walking.  Even after water up our nose and sand in our face.  And after a while the waves will seem smaller.  That's what karma is like.  Is it karma?  Or is it just the way life is?  I find it hard to get my mind around the idea that we have payback for everything we do.  That children suffer because of something they've done in another lifetime. 

I guess for me, grace and forgiveness is my favorite thing about the Jesus road.  We walk along in the ocean and a big wave comes along and knocks us down.  This is life.  And life is full of suffering and difficulty.  We get back up and keep walking, even after we get water up our nose and sand in our face.  Continuing to walk is perhaps the sacrifice we talk about.  It is continuing to live and to give to others as best we can.  And if we keep walking each time we get knocked down, the waves sometimes get smaller.  Or maybe we learn to ride the waves.

We don't get to live in some happy, blissful Hollywood movie.  We struggle.  And that's ok.  But there is some joy mixed in with all the hard stuff.  There are surprises every day, if we keep our eyes open to them!  If we stay present to the moment, even the moments we get knocked down, we find the gifts in it all.  There are gifts, even in the suffering, and somehow it transforms into something else.  That is, if we allow ourselves the suffering.

Somehow in our society we get this idea that we're supposed to be happy all the time, upbeat and cheerful.  And it's really great to be around those kind of folks.  They get the popularity prizes lots of the time.  To be honest however, I enjoy the folks who are real.  Honest about their feelings.  People who try to find the treasures in the hard things, without being "perky" every moment of every day.  They are the treasures in this world.  But so often we're seeking out the popular folks...the happy people, that we miss the deeper gifts someone who knows and has experienced suffering can bring..

So the hot weather is not my favorite time of year, and I spend more time getting knocked down than I do on my feet.  But there are fireflies, and so many flowers that love the hot sun.  And lots of people like this time of year best of all.  

 

Spring

Still a bit nippy out there.  Those of us in upstate New York, are waiting somewhat impatiently for the warmth to come our way.  And today is Easter, the Christian celebration of Jesus rising from the dead.  Other traditions have their own beliefs and connections around spring.  Green buds and little flowers seem to challenge the most cynical among us to join the celebration. There is often a spring in one's step, a little tune on one's lips, and a sense of possibility, despite the evidence to the contrary.

Thanks to PD Photo for the terrific picture.

I am seeing some joy coming your way today.  And mine too.  

Go Fly a Kite...

from PDphoto.org

Woke up this morning singing that song from Mary Poppins:  Let's go fly a kite...  You probably know it.  That was my favorite movie when I was a kid, the music still cheers me up.  When I watch the movie again (oops...let out my secret!), I giggle myself silly in that scene where they're floating around the room because they are laughing. 

Somewhere, someone called March the month for flying kites.  But you know, I think March is way too blustery in this neck of the woods for kite flying.  April is a better time and May too. 

I grew up in Nebraska, and one would think that is the perfect place for flying kites.  There is plenty of flat space for running, and the wind never stops blowing.  I never got a kite off the ground when I was a kid there.  I always thought it was my fault...I couldn't run fast enough, or there was something lacking in my basic understanding of kite flying...it seemed mysterious to me, out of my reach.  I remember trying to make a kite on my own.  Of course those poor newspaper kites blew apart in moments.  As I look back on the reality however, the wind never stopped blowing on the prairies.  I don't ever remember seeing some park full of people flying kites.  Once in a great while, some brave soul would be there, wrestling to capture the wind.  But such flat places don't have trees to stop the wind, which is often a wild thing that turns into tornadoes in May and sometimes June.  In the summer, the winds are hot on your face. I think of August in Nebraska when I open the oven too quickly and the heat comes rushing out at me.   Well, you get the drift (as it were!).

Here in upstate New York there are a great many trees, however, there are plenty of meadows and places where flying a kite would be possible.  Is kite flying a lost art?  I still come across them in toy stores, especially at the beach where the wind also blows mightily when you're on the beach, without the protection of trees.  But again, I haven't seen much kite flying there either.   Computer games and such have taken over old pass times.  Ha!  Listen to me.  I just googled kite flying festivals, and upstate New York has it's own club.  NYKE  (New York Kite Enthusiasts), and the kites are quite a sight to behold. 

It's not exactly a kite flying day today, but maybe one of these days I will pick out one of the really fancy kites and try my hand at it again.  There's something magical about holding that string in your hands, feeling the pull of the wind and thinking that you have control of some dancing, colorful paper up in the sky.  I feel as though I'm flying myself.

   

Wilderness...

Photos contributed by the Pinedale Ranger District of the Bridger-Teton National Forest and is a public domain image

Last night I watched a show from the Public Broadcasting System (PBS) called Frontline.  The piece was the story of how a Catholic priest and his friend who posed as a priest, came to St. Michaels Alaska and supposedly worked among the Native people there.  I say "supposedly worked", because in reality, the entire generation of young people were abused: 100% of the children in the village.  Girls and boys who are now women and men.  It happened in the 1970s.  Horrendous things happened and then the abuse spread it's reach into families.  One boy told his father, and as a result of telling the truth, the boy was beaten, and then later, his brother was shot by his father, and died in the boy's arms.

One woman finally brought a lawsuit, and although in the beginning, the Catholic church ignored the accusations, the case was won in court.  As part of the settlement the bishop was to go and apologize to the people in that particular diocese.  We see his visit to the people of that village, and hear him say:  I'm sorry, please forgive me for any pain which has come to you because of the church.  We saw these adults who were abused as children, heard some of their stories, and heard the ways this cruelty has so deeply and irreparably damaged their lives.

Winning the lawsuit didn't fix the pain.  The people want to move on and leave it behind them...but imagine, an entire village suffering from complex post traumatic stress disorder.  (I wonder why in the world the psychiatric community calls this a disorder?   The symptoms follow severe trauma.  All that pain leaks out when it gets triggered.  And when there is a large amount of pain, it goes on and on and on.)

I confess to a certain envy...there is no one who will ever apologize to me for the years of abuse.  No one who will acknowledge the pain they have caused.  But the reality is, that even in this case, it's just the institution that is apologizing, not the perpetrators.  At least it is something.  I do think the church as a whole...not just the Catholic church, should be asking forgiveness of victims and acknowledging the conspiracy of silence and denial which has gone on and on and on.  

Did you know that 99.9% of the men and women in our prison system were sexually abused as children?

There has to be a way to change the way children are treated.  There has to be a way to heal the people who carry so much grief.  It is their right to be offered healing.  There is never full justice in this world.  But surely we can ask forgiveness for everyday kinds of things, so the small doesn't become larger and eventually erupt into abuse.  God forbid that this simply be inevitable...