Re-engaging our Peace, llvl

We don’t know if the people who stole our friends’ car were kids on a dangerous joy ride or souls with more nefarious purpose in mind. It was fairly interesting to talk to some people at my husband’s gig last night, apparently, more than one guy we now know as fine, upstanding citizen, at least once drove on the wild side.

I was such a good girl, and in fact, some appearances to the contrary, still am. Never strayed toward that line. And I’ve never been one to throw myself down a hill on skis or hop off a high dive, or, or, or. I hope I take mental and emotional risks now and again… but I don’t get how it’s fun to jack a car.

And we hope that’s all it was. stupid kids who some how missed the respecting property memo.

And whatever the intent, I’m familiar enough with the sense of violation you might feel…I’ve had a person rummage through my chest of drawers, looking for drug money. Bastid stole my ukelele. I haven’t played since. One wonders what the street value of a ukelele is… oops digression.

When I lived in Oakland, where no one dreamed cars were safe, Gramma May channeled her insomnia to the good. she and her television sat and kept watch. So when a local gang thought Aileen Street would be a good place to set up Car Boost School, one car was broken into, and then she made two calls: one to her sons and then 911. The guys were on the street before the cops. May’s sons and the cops gave our block an out-of-bounds status.

While the neighborhood thrived under her careful and tender regard (she not only went after the ‘bad guys,’ she made sure no one made the mistake of leaving anything lying around to tempt, either.), there was no illusion of safety. There was instead an ethic of caring.

Living in this little town has felt, and mostly is different. Some of it’s proximity to the law enforcement. I’m likely to think that if someone stole that car it was a kid. The fact that the car was a block and a half away from the local jail would mean that savvy burglars would avoid the area. (Just keep moving.) Too many cops.

Still, feeling safe is something to aim for. Now there are always going to be reasons some people steal. Drug habits are expensive… Life for some is just too challenging. But some of the reasons people steal need to be eliminated. Kids need to be fed and clothed and housed… we need to make sure there’s money for that. Don’t talk to me about entitlement, talk to me about what kids need. People need work. We all need community built by trusting friends and Gramma Mays. And, as Mr. Marley taught us a long time ago. No Justice, No Peace.

We can’t allow ourselves to be frightened off by life. We need to acknowledge its difficulties and keep moving toward Peace. To do less is set our goals to low. There’s a lot of hard work to be done, so let’s step up. And in the meantime, let’s be realistic. However, I’m not bringing my shovel in. Peace. and keep my friends in your thoughts as they adjust to a new normal.

LLVL6Feb11

Lovely Village Peace — Disturbed, llvl

So there I am, waxing eloquent as I often do, about the lovely safety of my little town, two blocks away my friends’ car was being boosted. Nice. Safe enough for snow shovels, but not so great for cars.

Blech, you know? And it could have been kids… they obviously couldn’t drive very well, because they got into some drifted snow… and had to abandon the car. Winter works it’s magic, foiling the getaway…

And joy riding has always been part of “these kids these days” whenever the days happened to be. But still?

When you live in trust and the trust is broken, when the agreements you thought you lived under turn out not to be the agreements you’re actually living under, it’s more than disconcerting, it’s disappointing.

I’m sure tomorrow’s poem lies in this somewhere. argh. I like believing I live in Paradise. But even Paradise has issues. As I keep reminding myself, it’s a road to Peace, and there are places we stumble along the way. Peace is harder work than we like to believe.

Thankfully, my neighbors got their car back.

LLVL6Feb10

A Neighborly Sabbath Peace, LLVL

It was going to happen sometime. Someone I knew who lived alone was going to get hurt or sick and we’d have to figure things out.

When a friend of mine in California got sick, her community, from all over the country rallied around. Her husband suddenly died about a month before she did and friends started flying in, a week at a time. People showed up. She was that kind of friend. You did that. She was part of a culture that moved about for business. Luckily for everyone, she was part of a culture that made enough money that people could fly about.

But this accident happened in the village. You step outside to snap a rug and that quickly you’re on the ground with your foot going the wrong way. Our friend somehow managed to get back inside to call 911 but then she called a friend, and they came to take care of the dogs and to remind her how very loved she was.

By the time I found out the next morning, there was a place for her (and her little dogs, too!) to stay when she got out of the hospital. One little dog got sick and it turned out Wilma needed an operation too. That was being handled. Friends, on the job. The interwebs were alight with news. If you ever wondered whether FB has value, wonder no longer. Email would have connected a few of us. FB connected many more.

It’s a nice thought to savor on a frosty Winter Sabbath morn. Yes, the ice is treacherous; but hearts are sweet and warm. If you’re present to life, there are so many ways for that to be true.

If you move off the couch today, you might want to call a friend and weave the web tighter. You might want to thank a couple friends for being so important to you. You might just sit, gratefully appreciating how sweet life can be, how grace-filled, even in the moments that just seem scarey. But when you make a life where you are, live la vida local, people can respond.

Peace is in the cracks of life… what is it Cohen says, they let the light in — and the Peace, they let in Peace.

LLVL6Feb9

 

 

Heavenly Peace, Local Style

Sweden’s changed my point of view on a lot of things. I was 17 when I first went there. That makes you impressionable. But I was older when they blew up my preconceptions about cemeteries.

I’ve always been interested in cemeteries — especially ancient ones. Maybe because death was so much more present in people’s lives, headstones told sad or triumphant tales of who someone had been in their own right and in the eyes of people who loved them. Sad stories of parents’ losing child after child or lovers enjoying long marriage. In Europe, headstones often detail a person’s job, so you’re able to see that Karin, seamstress was married 47 years, lost 4 children in one year to influenza and had 5 who survived their parents.

Maybe because life is short cemeteries were used to tell stories. Maybe because death was present, it happened in the house often and was commemorated there that when people moved into the church yard, people continued to visit.

I was an early convert to the cremate and scatter movement. But now, I wonder occasionally. There’s actually information that suggests that green burial is thought to be the best for the earth and that cremation is not as pollution free as we might have thought.

Now that so many of my family members are deceased, is it simply hubris that occasionally longs for a place to visit, a place to walk by in my daily life, a place where their lives are represented. In the end, we will all pass from life and even memory. Does it matter that we are not gathered in death? Especially since we never lived in the same place in life?

Is it simply a pretty conceit that folk would walk by the town cemetery and pause and look at our family’s lives and deaths played out in stone. Would they take comfort in knowing that we were now good neighbors, as I do as I walk through the cemetery a handful of blocks from my house?

Actually, I think our family will be scattered on my brother’s land in a bunch of blueberry bushes. It’s not a bad spot for a family who took joy in fresh fruit! Does it really matter if no one knows we’re there? Probably not. And yet.

Ah, another stray thought. But I’ll tell you this. I like cemeteries. And sometimes I wonder. In the meantime, I work at being a good neighbor. You never know how you might end up taking an ongoing role in your community.

LLVL6February8

 

Me and Thee and Peace, llvl

Do I know you well enough to think of you as sacred? Do I know myself well enough to think of myself as sacred. Can there be sacred other without sacred self? Am I sacred because I am also part of other? or Other?

A Friend (Quaker) and a Friend of my Heart wrote this in response to today’s musing: “Back in the day (1600’s) Quakers began using the terms “thee” and “thou” because they were the familiar/informal form of address.  They refused to use the honorific/formal forms as a testimony to their belief that everyone is equal and certain people/classes do not deserve “higher” honor or formality when being addressed.  They actually go thrown in jail for addressing hoity-toity people as “thee” and “thou.”  (They wouldn’t bow to them either – gasp!).  Even today, many Friends avoid using the terms “sir” and “maam”, and will instead simply use the term f/Friend instead.” (Thanks, Therese Miller).

Interesting that today if you’re not a King or Queen, sir and ma’am are simply sweet honorific caresses, acknowledgements of age… which of course seem like swear words to those of us, Us, who know that we’re really cook cats and nothing as stodgy as a person who might need an arm up!

Today for us to reclaim the second person familiar is to reclaim the intimate. Television and internet have seemingly eradicated the levels between us — and we ignore the status that privilege and wealth confer, pretending we’re going to get there soon. any day now, really, things will turn around.

But what if I see thee as my intimate, even if i don’t know thee? Am I not forced to care for thee, because i have said I know thee. What if we replaced the wink-wink-nudge-nudge of carnal knowingness with the dangerous, searing soulful knowledge of other. If I open myself to thee… I welcome thee and I dare thee to welcome me. I say Namaste.

In that intimacy, the seeds of Peace are sown. It’s precarious, but real. Peace. Namaste. I welcome thee to my heart.

LLVL6Feb7

Neighbors in Peace, LLVL

When I lived in New York, right after college, I had interesting glimpses of my neighbors’ lives through their windows. I would see people cooking, or getting ready for bed. There was the naked lady, the man with his little boy, the woman with the three barking dogs. But I didn’t know anyone except the people in my building. We were an exception to the rule because we were all small town girls and boys in a small walk up building.

I later found out that my Swedish sister and I lived on the same block for two or three years and we never ran into each other. (and there was no email and fb!)

Oakland was a little different. Aileen Street was a real neighborhood. As renters Jenn and I were part and not part of what went on. But Jenn had Legos, so she was pretty much Aunt Central. And we wormed our way in since we were willing to sit on the stoop and nod and chat as neighbors walked by. All these years later, she’s still there.

And then back home to little Pennsylvania towns where you wake up and the guy down the street is snow blowing the 8 inches of heavy snow off the entire block and walking the machine around our cars that had just been plowed in. That left me to dig out what he didn’t get. Participating in one another’s lives. Being kind. I’d gone out that morning expecting to spend several hours digging through to the street. I was back in within 1 1/2 hours. It was a lovely gesture. Most mornings I love the shoveling — snow as prayer. But so far this year the snow has been light and easy to push around. This was not. This was not meditative snow. Gratitude abounds.

When you live where you are, live in the moment and in your village, you live next door to your neighbors. Being a good neighbor is part of the job. It’s part of the Joy. It’s part of the Peace. and beside that? Snow! Happy Winter, my friends.

And we can’t forget that while I’m reveling in the sweet white stuff, 800,000 people are without power in the cold (and dark). Prayers for them and for the folks working on the downed lines and non-functional equipment.

LLVL6Feb6

 

Silent, Sacred Footsteps for Peace, LLVL

Quick this morning, shoveling awaits… want to get at it while the snow’s still dry.

Nothing like a lazy morning waking up to silence. And white, unbroken expanses of snow.

My neighborhood is old, much of it built around the time of the just post civil war era. On days like this up a few steps from the street, you can believe that there have never been cars here.

Peace be with you my friends. Let go the frustration, nothing to do but live with the weather. Might as well enjoy it. Soon enough the cycle will turn and winter’s beauty will disappear. Consider living each day where you are. Too much? Consider living this morning where you are and finding it just right. And make a few footsteps for Peace.

LLVL6Feb5

A Present, Local, Peace Blessing, LLVL

If you’re going to count your blessings, you have to be where you are. You have to live centered in your life, your life has to have a location. You have to live locally.

Blessing counting is about real things, or should be. Not just gushy things, but the little things like warm socks on a cold day and the friend who cared enough to give them to you. (Ms Live Locally somehow missed the fact that it was going to be below zero degrees last night.) It’s not just about being aware that you can afford or beg or borrow enough to pay your fuel oil and the realization that there are others who can’t and who might need your help — and you might be able to give it.

It’s about recognizing and appreciating the beauty of the land around you and understanding your responsibility to it. It’s about celebrating your relationships and doing what’s necessary to nurture them.

You can’t count blessings if you’re not engaged. That’s not a passive thing. I think you can’t count your blessings if you’re not willing to be a blessing to be counted. Maybe you start with counting little blessings when you’re young, like a child at prayer: Bless Mommy, bless Daddy, bless Sisty and Bro, bless the dog, the cat, the chickens. But then you grow up and so should your blessings. You still count them but you get active about your love, you bless the challenges that allow you to test your strengths and ingenuity.

Life is hard, it’s true. But it is filled with things that soften those blows, and we must rejoice in them, and we must be them. Preachy, this morning, I guess. But Peace depends on the blessings we’re willing to see and be. And we depend on Peace and our work toward it to give our lives meaning.

LLVL5Feb4

Sacred Acts of Peace, LLVL

I sometimes need reminders that Life is a sacred endeavor. I’ve chosen to use capitals to help me remember things I might pay attention to and in the paying of attention, cherish.

If I hold my Work as sacred, not just routine, I pay attention and I do it. People might say, well, sure, you’re a minister, when you stand by a deathbed, that’s sacred. And that’s so true. but sometimes you’re frightened or tired or… and you need to remember…

But ministry is not made up of only sublime moments. There are the things that need slogging through as in any job.

And ministers lead very mundane lives as well. Someone has got to go to the store, wash the dishes, order the fuel oil. And as long as I’ve been doing it, I’ve noticed that the wash never gets done on its own, darnit.

All of those things can be done with reverence. I’m lucky enough to be able to buy fuel, the dishes I use are family heirlooms and I love fabric and clothes, so doing the wash helps me remember all the wonderful clothes I get to choose from when I go to the closet. (I’d say colors, but you know me, I only wear red and black! but hey, some of my red is wine colored!)

Today, I’ll trudge carefully through my snowy neighborhood to meet my friend at our local coffee house and we’ll work together on our separate jobs. Communion on a Monday morning.

By noticing life’s sweetness and allowing it to be important, I pay attention. And you may wonder, indeed I do, who am I to natter on about Peace, but if we don’t talk about it, don’t hold it as sacred, we don’t do the little things that begin to pile up into a sizable mound of acts that move us down the Peace Road.

So Peace, my friends. Consider which words and actions are sacred in your life. Consider elevating them in importance. See if you pay attention differently. Honor Peace. make it central in your life and begin to examine what isn’t leading toward that exalted end. Celebrate the Awe. It makes life so much more exciting.

LLVL5Feb3

 

 

Sabbath Peace for Phil, LLVL

It’s going to be a Peaceful Sunday for Phil the groundhog after being rudely awakened this morning at 7:28. He saw his shadow and is headed back for another six-week snooze. Living la vida local in Pennsylvania, you pay attention to Phil. They’re now attributing atrocious poetry to him as well. Although, goodness, he IS a groundhog, so I’m not sure how well developed his poetic functions are!

A Superbowl winner I will not predict,

But my weather forecast you cannot contradict

That’s not a football lying beside me, that’s my shadow that you see.

Six more weeks of winter, it shall be.

Sorry Phil, had to redact a little. We’re having a little break in the weather, which was good for the 200 who plunged into the 39˚ river yesterday. After they broke the ice on the shore, there wasn’t much ice in the river to worry about. But it’s a pretty bleak day. Cozy in with a good book! Do something that’s your version of down-time.

Beloved husband is playing music today, I’m off to work. As always anniversary celebrations will wait and get fitted in to some leisure time. We’re not postponing joy, we’re extending it!

This day has become the most significant in my life in many ways. I may need to think a bit about that. It’s the stirring awake metaphor and reality that catches me. And maybe the beginning again. I said that I liked Chinese New Year because it was a beginning again, but I think perhaps it’s the beginning of sap rising in the trees that catches me. I see this as the beginning of the cycle, the actual new year. The end of the year is about rest for me, and this is about waking up. For me this is a natural break in the year.

Let us recommit at the beginning of the cycle to creating the new possibilities for the year. Let us be the awakening light… after a bit of snoozing around!

And as for Phil, my sister must be sighing the big sigh of relief that she won’t be chasing his cousin from under the flagstones around her pool. I doubt we remembered to warn the new owners about the groundhog. Ah well, you live on land, you live in nature! So Happy many anniversaries to me (and to Steve) and burrow in, at least for today. Peace may lie in getting enough rest. But watch out when we wake up.

LLVL5Feb2