To Harvest Peace or Not, llvl

The picture Deb took this week offers a great snapshot of Central Pennsylvania agriculture with our fields in various states of harvest. The sun is going down. Because we’ve just had the full moon, it’s easy to imagine it rising orange across the river, our Harvest Moon. Life is fertile here, a product of the bounty of the land, the generosity of the climate and the hard work of the farmers. And we give thanks.

Contrast that quiet beauty with the terror of the city that beautiful day in September — the hatred that engendered it; the hatred that it caused, both a by product of so many bad decisions. So many words written, no more needed, just our deep sadness for this incalculable loss. I looked out the window at those towers in that city every day for many years. I had tiny bits of history there. I worked in the investment industry. I left the city to pursue dreams, but the city never leaves your heart… and even without a personal connection, the horror is overwhelming. If you haven’t gone to the memorial, do it. you begin to understand the immensity of what happened; of the deep imperative for Peace.

And then a personal sadness for my sweet nieces whose father ended his life years later.

Peace is needed. Honesty. Understandings that actions have consequences and a willingness to think those things through — as true globally as personally. Healing. Love. When we arise from yesterday’s pain, we must go to work.

Prosaic, Poetic Peace, llvl

Peace is in the little things, the little moments. We had one of those moments last night. A quiet time with friends, gathered around a table feasting on late summer bounty and later gathered around a living room feasting on our companions’ words.

Oh, I was grateful to be included in this group of wordsmiths, grateful that my words claimed their own space, different, but clear. And grateful that I live somewhere where spontaneously people will gather to say what they believe in stately measures while others will listen and gasp and nod. Is there more that we can ask than the sweet magic of every extraordinary day.

Today I spoke to two artists at the coffee shop, women who immerse themselves in textiles, opening up both pattern and sensuality to those of us who find it in words… or somewhere else.

This is everywhere… but it’s so apparent here, because there’s more space between the people. You can see more easily what someone else is up to. It’s not always a beautiful sight, but it so, so, so often is. Peace in words. Peace in silk. Peace in sweet companionship.

Chance Encounter Peace, llvl

When you live in a small town, you know people. You know who your neighbors are. You find yourself on at least nodding acquaintance with a whole bunch of people. Mostly, maybe not always, this is a good thing. Sometimes even a great thing.

This is a college town, so round about September, life cranks up. People are home back from wherever they went. (and all of us are whining about parking!)

Yesterday I had a meeting in a cafe. Lots got accomplished. At the end, my friend/colleague and I sat finishing up business. While we were there we nodded at a couple and jumped up to hug people in in two groups. Later, walking down the street, we met just the person we needed to talk to. And then we had a mini congregational meeting on the street outside CVS. There aren’t that many UUs, so to encounter seven in the same space is a bit random — but fun. And only a couple of us were there to think about feeding kids on a big scale, three of them were there to think about feeding a kid on a small scale. all in all, it was one more great example of the glories of living in a small town (well,when you’re one of those included. For those that aren’t I’m working as fast as I can. And I’m sorrier than I can say.)

But for the moment, this is Peace in a small town. And it gives me strength to stay on course.

Collaborative Peace, llvl

Oh, man, working together. What a joy! What a gift! What a better product.

There is nothing sweeter than pushing around ideas and figuring out where they go on a (sometimes figurative, sometimes literal, sheet of paper.) Wow, this works with this. Gee, I never thought of that. Boy Howdy, this is fun!

I’m working on a presentation for a workshop. I’ve got notes about this dating back almost 10 years, and finally the right time came around. And now, suddenly, there are the right people to work on it with. Yesterday, I thought and took notes with one woman. Today, I have to write that up so I can think and write again. (and sometimes write and think, because as someone wise once said, how can I know what I think until I write it down?)

I really like what I’m working on and I love working on it with someone else(s). And working together is so much easier these days, because if you can’t be in the same room, you just sit down and skype. Technology does make my life better and sweeter.

I know some people are really solitary thinkers. I am not always that. Not on the big things. I like knowing how you think differently than I do so that the stew gets far more interesting. I started to take that analogy farther, but thought it might not further the argument. (I’ve never used further successfully in a sentence before. laughing.) It’s hard work. It demands both self-reflection and getting out of the way of the process.

So here’s to my collaborators, my co-workers and co-creationists. Here’s to a community of thought and progress, to doing good two by two or three by three, rather than one by one. Thanks, it’s swell. it feels like magic. And oh, btw, The work is so much stronger. I’ll take it. and rejoice. I have longed for this my whole life. It seems the little bit of Peace I can imagine gets larger every time we sit down to talk. Thank you, thank you, thank you. and oh, yes. Wahoo!

Hope and Peace, llvl

It’s been a bit “sloggy” around here recently. Hard work with small minds safely filled with old stereotypes. And then, this…

As you all know, if you’re following me, my little town recently lost a rising star. A young man, musician, poet, nice guy, skateboarder, high school kid, died in a car crash. Our students and our parents have been reeling with the grief. It hits at so many levels. The high school band has been having a very hard time.

And again I say, and then this.

They played an away game. You know local football rivalries in small towns, we live for them (well many of us do!) and they’re fierce.

But this day the home team band stopped their performance and asked for a moment of silence in memory of Miles. They read a poem. They gave a tree to his family to plant in his honor. It is the sweetest, most generous thing I’ve ever heard. What a lovely ability to see beyond their life… What a gift of being seen for the away team. Let us give thanks!

There’s Hope, folks, and we need to fan that flame every chance we get. Because that’s where beauty lies. That’s where Peace lives.

Sabbath Peace Restant, llvl

I did something very hard yesterday, and I’m proud of myself. And important note to self: I survived. Did I do it as well as it could have been done. Mebbe not. But it was a first step. I took action because what happened was beforehand was ugly and petty. I took action because I could stand for my friend, and not standing for her, meant saying what I believed didn’t matter very much.

Because it was about my friend, it was easier to take a step that scared and intimidated me. And I knew that it would scare and intimidate the people I talked to… I knew I had to find a way to connect to the people. I schemed. I practiced. And in the end, just did it. And partially, I did it because I told you I would. So thanks for that. Thanks for being my community.

It’s not that I need anyone else to think I’m a hero, It’s that I have to remember that this is doable. I can stand up. My faith asks me to do that. My courage sometimes falters. and if so, then shame on me. And friendship asks me to do things. I guess I have to say that friendship is a really big part of what I believe to be important. James Weldon Johnson: “I’m lonely, God said, I’m going to make me a world.”

Sundays aren’t all Sabbath for me, for me it’s a working day. But the end of the day will be a down day… I might need to find a body of water to stuff myself into. Summer time. Peaces. Tomatoes. Corn. And a good book. Peace, it’s an up and down thing. But there’s no up if I don’t stand up, step up and speak up. Guessing it probably needs you to do the same things. And really, I survived.

Moonlit Peace, llvl

Well, it was difficult with an evening like last evening not to have the musing turn back toward Paradise.

There we were, the temperature was perfect (and there were no bugs!); the food, amazing; the patio, filled with friends; the moon was up and the band was smokin’ and mellow by turns. Steve was playing again! His wrist is getting stronger. That would have been enough… but he’s not just playing he’s playin’ those drums. oh, such joy.

What a life of privilege I lead.

And I’m grateful for it, because all last night I thought about what I had to do this morning, and was uneasy. But I did it. I went and sat down at a table in the restaurant I often go to and told them that the racist jokes have to stop. The one guy looked at me and said, I wish you’d been here 5 minutes ago the guy just left. But it was really just that everyone laughed. And he told me he’d talk to the guy. (I don’t know if he knew i wrote a letter to the editor about it, and that it was in today’s paper.) The guy I was sitting beside looked at me only once, he obviously was not open at all… And I need to decide. Do I just not go back? Do I go back for a bit in case someone wants to talk to me? Do I go back and take my whole tribe of folk and just begin to own the place? I don’t know. I’ll finish shaking from this morning’s encounter and think about it later. I owe it to everyone I love to keep thinking about it. I owe it to them and myself to keep stepping up. You can’t make Peace by ignoring the ugliness and the folk who can’t have Peace.

And I’m grateful that I have such fine experiences to sustain me. So that I can do what I’m called to do… And I’m glad and lucky beyond belief that I have such a wild, weird, wonderful community. Growin’ up. it ain’t for sissies.

Nature Peace, llvl

Mother Nature not only offers us good eats, she offers us Beauty. Here’s this squash, portrait by Deb Slade in wild and beautiful color.

We come in wild and beautiful color too, but somehow that’s never as celebrated as the different colors of, say, heirloom tomatoes.

But what are we, each and everyone of us, if not precious heirlooms?

Peace is a many colored thing… Let’s embrace that. Let’s act on it.

Peace and Reality, llvl

I talk and talk and talk about how beautiful it is where I live. And it is.

But the reality is everything isn’t beautiful and while I’m enjoying the people chatting on Market Street, other people are having to listen to hateful jokes told about people who look like them. Oh, right. Of course it’s lovely for me. I (mostly) “fit in.”

Yesterday made my friend even happier she’s leaving. Can I blame here? No. Do I have work to do? Yes. I will talk to this group. Will it cause them to change? Probably not, at least deep inside, but it may cause them to quiet in public. It’s at least a start. Do we need to be more open and active about rooting out such close-minded hatefulness? yes. Are they horrible people? Ignorant, certainly.

And then someone posts on FB a story, another story, about my hometown where a kid in a KKK hood harassed a young coed. Harassed… it doesn’t really talk about how horribly frightened she must have been does it. Because she at least knows her history. She doesn’t have the luxury of not knowing history, because she’s on the downside of it. Who knows what happened to her people.

At the same time, there are people in my hometown

This is on the people who look like me to confront, so that people can be safe where they are. I’ll probably get a symposium together. I hope you’ll come. I hope you’ll step up. I hope we can make a difference.

Because Peace for only some of us is no kind of Peace at all. I’m really sad today.

Here she is, starting college… and being hassled. Ok, threatened, not hassled. I’m so grateful she went to the cops. And that must have been scary. Especially if she’s new there, because who would know, if the KKK is hassling you that the cops are going to be receptive.

Folks, this one’s on us. What do we do? I wrote to the editor. I will talk to this group. I may talk to the owner. I will probably try and organize a group to teach and talk about this. But each of us need to stop these jokes… in the streets, in our families, in our friends. The racist jokes, the sexist ones, the rape jokes, the… you know them. we have to speak up each and every time. We have to step up.

So, Peace, my dears. It’s on us. And so’s Reality. It’s our community. what do we want it to look like?

Paradise & Peace, llvl

I should have written this before breakfast. You would have had a happy post then. Full of last night’s feast and friendship.

Instead, I’m filled with this morning’s hatred at my local breakfast eatery. I wrote about sitting at a table where people came from other places, other races, where the food was foreign and the drink was local and the conversation, simply delightful.

And now I’m drowning in the ugliness of simple hospitality shattered. Of a quick bite that was to talk of challenging things that talked instead about that and not about good news to share and prepare for.

My friend is not safe. Neither is yours. Do I think they would have physically hurt her? No. But does this do incredible damage? oh, yes. oh, yes. oh, yes. Casual racism, homophobia, sexism is incredibly damaging. If people will think that, we have to find the courage to tell them not to share.

Saturday, I have to go back to breakfast and say, no more… And then I have to find a place where my friend is welcome.

peace. we have to be doing it. and we had better be fueled by good times because we have work to do. Last night was really wonderful. This morning was really hard.

Sacred Village

Building a World of Peace, Village by Sacred Village.

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