Fakin’ Peace

Since yesterday, I’ve been mulling over what it means when your teacher… and your ritual maker misrepresents herself… and realizing how meaningful her rituals were despite her claiming them as something else.

I now am fairly convinced that even the “teachings” were hers and not as represented.

There’s something so sad about having good work and not feeling confident enough about yourself that you can claim it as yours. There’s something awful about grabbing someone else’s traditions and pasting yours on top. Things have their own integrity, and we should acknowledge boundaries and take responsibility.

So here are all these great metaphors and small rituals and well-tested ritual actions and they’re besmirched a bit by falsehoods.

And yet, they led me to Peace. So maybe there is growth for the other in that. The problem is that if you’re the fraud, maybe not so much growth and a bigger wall between you and Peace.

And I looked just a bit, there might have been a water monster, who wasn’t so kind, but there were Water Little People who were helpers…

But I love the notion of a monster who thrives on problems. Bring ’em. And so we do. And leave ’em. Peace and water are often joined in a metaphor… and How fun that there might be a Peace Monster. I might have to divine what that might look like… But here’s one thing I’ll tell you… I’m not about to attach him to another tradition.

If you and I can become Peacemakers by dreaming and doing, why not dream a Peace Monster companion to gobble up the pains of the world? In the meantime, we’ll keep practicing Peace. Is that faking it until we make it? who knows… But we do what we can, as June Jordan reminds us “more than that, what can anyone ask?”

Water Monster Peace

What if some of your most profound experiences were scams? I was just doing a little research about the teacher I mention in this musing. I have kept up over the years, but never seen these notices. Oh! the blessings of the internet…

And now the question emerges… if it was a scam and it worked, does that mean it has no value. Absolutely not… Was it merely suggestive healing? Is that different from spiritual healing? If you spend a week sitting on the ground doing meditation, dreaming and rituals, even if someone made them up, does it matter? Oh, that’s great. Ya gotta laugh you know.

But I love the notion of a benign Water Monster who thrives on my problems and burps back Peace … And today, I’m longing for a 10 day sit/walk/swim/peace and quiet by some beach somewhere with warm water and a benign monster to eat my problems… Oh, there’s work to be done… so I’ll get back to it, laughing all the way…

But not about the fact this woman didn’t have the courage to say she’d thought long and hard and that these were rituals she’d designed to work on these issues. Nothing wrong with designing rituals (says the ritualist), I do it all the time. I just haven’t usurped anyone’s heritage or claimed a tribal name (I don’t think Sister Fluff and the Goddess Gospel Hour comes from any other tradition…)

But again… pack up all your cares and woes, there you go, singing low, hey ho, monster!

Teary Peace

Last night a group of my sister’s friends had a gathering at a local restaurant that Deb had loved. They all sat around and told stories about her, fun stories, stories that showed what a character she was. The fact that the staff donated their time says a lot about who Deb was. Celebration and remembrance… it’s what we require…

And I did what I hadn’t allowed myself to do up to that point, or at least in public — cried me a river… Losing Deb is world shaking. I know we lose our siblings. I know Deb was sick and not going to live a whole lot longer. It’s a good thing that she slipped away easily. I hope it’s one bright morning over yonder.

But I hate that she’s gone. She was a sweet and easy part of my daily life. One of the ironies of people’s dying is that as they become weaker, you care more for them physically and so the bonds are even more tender and close and then they leave. I honored my mantra, and kept my hands and heart open so she could leave, but now, until the cracks men in my heart and it holds love again, I’m left feeling pretty empty-handed and -hearted.

It’d be nice to think that my musings weren’t always reflective of my inner churnings, but that’s what musings are I guess. I’m aware of the importance of writing about Peace as I mourn Deb’s loss.

So, since I’ve been thinking a lot about water in the September Peace musings, it seemed inevitable that I draw the connection to life-changing tears. If the chemical composition is really different for tears of heartbreak, (can anyone help me here???) then it seems to me that they must leach the sadness out of our bodies and dilute the grief somewhat. Is there a chemical compound for grief? Do we really require 35 hours of story telling to begin to heal? What if we stop up the outpouring of our hearts and souls… how do we pollute ourselves? And then, Ann being Ann, I have to ask, how do we find the balance… because some of us certainly continue long beyond what helps us… and some of us never let loose…

But the water of Peace, sweet and refreshing… I have to believe it’s richer for the bitter tears we shed. Certainly our Love deepens…

Wading Peace Sabbath

I’ve probably watched too many Westerns and read too many stories of people escaping to freedom, but I’ve always been fascinated by the role that water can play in people’s escape from their lives.

I’m sure it wasn’t easy and that these journeys were fraught with desperation and fear, but that water could play a role in saving people is very interesting to me. The notion that water is forgiving of our humanity… I’m drawn to that.

Many of the notions in Christian baptism do not draw me… particularly infant baptism. The notion that we are born in sin, and needful of forgiveness, don’t get me started. And that isn’t quite where I’m going with this either.

This musing concerns itself with the notion that water can hide us… and transform us. Today I notice the tie to the waters of the womb where we transform for the first time and emerge new and newly aware…

It takes determination to wade in the water with an eye to coming out transformed. Whether we’re being pursued or are simply in the need of transformation… It’s a misty Sabbath morning — maybe there’s space to think about this today…

The Peace of a Stream

Oh, the ironies. Here I am, thinking about streams to cross as the streams of ending and possibility, because they’re often both, right, and completely unaware at that point of the realities of streams of liquid chaos pouring in on Boulder. What fear and devastation in the lives of those who live there. Our prayers are with them.

But I was thinking of streams, if we can wrench ourselves away from that colossal event about the streams that form boundaries in our lives. They form actual boundaries for people, the people on one side of a river have often had rivalries with those on the other, They form emotional boundaries as crossing flowing water often changes our perspective. How many historical sayings do you know about the impacts of crossing a river or a body of water?

But not crossing a stream means accepting the boundaries life places on you. It means giving up your curiosity. As much as you explore the stream on your side, there are always great possibilities on the other side. We’re meant to look beyond our shores. Peace cannot mean keeping out the other and keeping from the other. Peace, like Love, like so many other grand traits is bigger than boundaries.

And sometimes crossing a stream is not a choice. What is behind you is finished and there is only forward in life. What made me mull about this was the fact that yesterday my sister’s house sold. (in less than a week. zoom). Any lingering thoughts that life could remain in stasis for a bit are gone. No more singing that Girl Scout song that’s been on my lips for the past two weeks: “Mmmmmmmm I’d like to linger here, mmmmmmm a little longer here.”

But I like water, in fact, it’s to water I go to heal, will go to heal. And it’s water we cross for a new life, a bigger life, when we’re done playing in the shallows. However comfortable life is where we are, the grandeur of what lies beyond trumps that, even if the road is rocky. And the possibilities of Peace lure us forward with a song far more compelling than one that gently encourages us to linger…

Love. Peace.

Sometimes life is hard. As you know, I’ve been harping a bit on this this month. Trying to stay faithful to Love and Peace when your heart is broken is a challenge. And you stay faithful by not forcing yourself to work on a bruised brain.

And broken hearts and bruised brains don’t mean that nothing else will happen. There’s no insurance for this, no moratorium on the numbers of blows that can fall. Yesterday, my favorite oldest cousin called to tell me that her former husband, the father of my “nieces” had killed himself. It’s a sad, ugly and brutal story.

If you’d have asked me if I would have been able to step up and do what was needed, I’d have told you nope. But when the call comes, you pick up the phone. And then you pick it up again and offer the girls your heart. The UUs sing that old spiritual, “There Is More Love, Somewhere.” And somewhere it is. Because it’s there when you need it. And it holds you up and it carries you along. If ever Deb were with me she was with me [i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) — thank you ee cummings] in the placing of that call. She loved those girls. She loved their girls. And so, in my grief, perhaps the love I got is the All Love and the love of Deb. Both girls said, “oh, we didn’t want to bother you.” But Love keeps swelling up and spilling out.

So there is more love, and even in the wasteland of grief, there are oases… and springs in the wilderness. Love. It leads us to Peace — because there’s more of that, too.

Peace Obscured

It’s somehow shameful in this culture to admit that something is beyond you. “Stick to it!” we say. “Find that can-do spirit.”

But sometimes it all feels overwhelming. And do you know what? Stop! It’s perfectly okay not to be able to manage everything. Not every piece of work is yours to do. It’s important to remember:

We’re not always the right person.
It’s not always the right time for anything to happen. The way may not be clear.
We’re not always in a position to do what needs to be done; we may just be sick and tired and unable to keep moving.
Someone else may have the vision that’s needed at this particular moment.

The need for Peace is never going to go away. But you have to be aware and rested to participate in the struggle. And if you’re tired? You should rest. And if you’re confused. Sit down let the clouds pass… and maybe someone will wander by with the answer. Or you can figure out where you might go to get the answer. No sense flailing about!

Simple Peace

On a day where what is remembered is senseless violence and senseless loss of life, let us remember that we can so easily be people of Peace. The only response to hate is more Love. Love was what we saw that day as well. And Courage. People were so brave in helping one another, on that day and in the many horrible days that followed. Brave even unto death.

Nothing will bring those beloved lives back. Nothing will make that “better.” People may quibble with my statement that those lives are unredeemable, there was no reason for God to redeem them, God simply gathered them home to the Divine heart. But the notion that we redeem them by our actions implies a power I don’t think we have. We can only mourn and honor those lives and we must. As we must with all who die senselessly in the crossfire of people’s hatred.

And in honoring them, all we can do is work to make it different. Many have chosen to pull in and brace in fear. But it is better that we reach out in celebration of all the possibilities.

May there be Peace on Earth. May it begin with each of us.

Trudging Peace

Every Tuesday I have breakfast with my friend Turrie. I’ve told you stories before about the little drive-in along the river. Today, in an effort to get my life looking a bit like normal and tend to my health, I decided to walk. As always, I was late, stride, stride, striding along.

On the way back I found myself fiercely concentrating… and I’m not sure I can tell you on what. A moment of self reflection perhaps? Or considering that I needed some dish detergent? But back I came, head down, chewing on something or the other, things to do, things I’ve done, broken hearts, you know, the usual.

I got home to a message from Turrie… did you see the eagle? Um, no, I hadn’t. I’d been so busy trudging and stomping through life, that I’d neglected to notice a very large and beautiful bird about 20 yards away.

You gotta look up. Mr. or Ms. Eagle would have lifted my heart, if I’d been willing to see him. Here I was, thank you, Oscar Wilde, living out the poem I’d just written. Life imitating art… (I know, audacious, eh, to consider my little musing art…) but not the uplifting part of it.

So, in my walking about today, I’ll try and get my head up off my feet… and perhaps cut myself a break… we’re not always ready to look up or out, but it’s a healthy reminder that we miss beauty when we’re stuck… Luckily the eagle lives here and I’ll unstick eventually!

It has been my pleasure to serve as your reminder of missed opportunities. Just remember, as our parents might have told us “do what I say, not what i do!”

Peace Challenges

It’s always more work than you think it is. And there are always more obstacles than you think there should be. And too many of the obstacles, hard work and challenges are about what you bring to the journey: your beliefs, your insistences, your close-mindedness…

Just when you think you’ve gotten some clarity, grabbed a deep breath and think things are fine, the way gets rocky.

And yet, somewhere, deep in you know. There is only Peace. It is all you want. And so you persevere.

Sometimes it’s really, really hard work. Today? It’s one of those days for me. I hope your day is being better. But even if it isn’t. On we go. Peace wants us… there’s joy and laughter and sweet memories, just a bit farther on down the road. And there we’ll sit and weep and mend our hearts and restore our souls a bit before we travel on. We’ll do that simply because we’re there with one another.

Sacred Village

Building a World of Peace, Village by Sacred Village.

The Priestess Is In