Am I Complicit with Peace — or Not?

I hope that this is one of the questions that we can begin to ask ourselves… where do we stray from the Path of Peace?

How easy is it to think that a loving heart will dissipate the structures of racism that are embedded in the foundation of our country?

What is the specific work I must do?

Can I allow myself to acknowledge my failings… my sin… to live with that discomfort long enough to allow it to transform me, to allow myself to feel the urgency of this sacred, terrible moment… that I will make a place for the Other. That I will become a person of Justice.

Can I refrain from refuge in a prayer that the Divine will welcome these Martyrs home, as if The Lady did not snatch these souls to her bosom to comfort their terror and their loss, as if The Lord needed to be reminded to welcome and to love.

Why have we not heard the word Martyrs? are we unwilling to see these beloved dead as Martyrs to a system that must be abolished?

Can I hold silence long enough to see how far I have wandered from Peace? The Solstice is upon us, shedding full light upon the day’s realities. The Thunder Moon is increasing, rattling our complacencies. Let us look for the Path to Peace…

In Memoriam

I have nothing this morning but the names and stories of those who died.

Clementa Pinckney South Carolina state Sen. Clementa Pinckney, the church’s pastor and a married father of two, was the first victim to be identified.

The 41-year-old pastor was leading a prayer service at the church when alleged gunman Dylann Storm Roof, 21, opened fire. Pinckney was remembered as an accomplished leader in the community.

Sharonda Coleman-Singleton Sharonda Coleman-Singleton, a reverend at the church, was also one of the shooting victims.

The 45-year-old mother of three coached the girls’ track team at Goose Creek High School in Goose Creek, S.C.

Cynthia Hurd Charleston County Public Library confirmed Thursday that one of their librarians died in the attack. Cynthia Hurd, a manager for Charleston County Public Library, was among the victims of the shooting at the Emanuel …

Cynthia Hurd, 54, the manager of St. Andrews Regional Library, was remembered as a woman who spent her life making sure residents of the local community had opportunities for personal growth and an education.

“Her loss is incomprehensible, and we ask for prayers for her family, her co-workers, her church and this entire community as we come together to face this tragic loss,” read a statement from the library. Hurd worked with Charleston County Public Library for 31 years. Before joining St. Andrews, she was manager of the John L. Dart branch.

DePayne Middleton-Doctor DePayne Middleton-Doctor was one of the victims of the church shooting. (Photo: DePayne Middleton/Facebook)

Former Charleston County employee DePayne Middleton-Doctor, 49, was among the victims. In a Facebook post, one of her family members, Laurie Middleton, said she will miss her beautiful personality, laughter, smile and love for all people.

“My beautiful Songbird. This is a hard one to Swallow. I will truly miss you my love,” she wrote. She was reportedly the mother of four girls and sang in the church’s choir.

Tywanza Sanders Allen University identified alumnus Tywanza Sanders, 26, as one of the victims, WACH reported.

The young man graduated from the school’s Division of Business Administration in 2014.

Myra Thompson Denise Quarles confirmed to “Good Morning America” that her mother, Myra Thompson, 59, had died, but declined to comment further.

The Anglican Church in North America also confirmed Thompson’s death. Her husband, the Rev. Anthony Thompson, is a vicar for Holy Trinity REC.

Ethel Lee Lance Ethel Lee Lance, 70, was a sexton who had reportedly worked at the church for more than 30 years.

Her daughter, the Rev. Sharon Rischer, confirmed to “GMA” that Lance died in the shooting. “I’m lost, I’m lost,” her grandson, Jon Quil Lance, said to The Post and Courier. “Granny was the heart of the family.”

Daniel L. Simmons Daniel L. Simmons’ daughter-in-law, Arcelia Simmons, confirmed to ABC News that he died in the shooting.

Simmons was a retired pastor from another church in Charleston and attended the Emanuel AME Church’s services every Sunday and Bible study every Wednesday, she said.

Susie Jackson Longtime church member Susie Jackson, 87, was confirmed as the other victim. Her grandson, Tim Jackson, told WEWS that she was a loving person with an infectious smile. “It’s real, real hard. It’s challenging because I don’t believe she deserved to go this way. It hurts to process,” he said.

Jackson was active in the church, serving on the usher board and singing in the choir, according to the ABC affiliate.

May they be our call to the making of Peace and a demand for Justice: That the people may live. May our prayers rise and lead us forward.

Tears in Paradise, Act for Peace

Two days home from a workshop on Undoing Racism, taught by the People’s Institute for Survival and Beyond, I wake up to the news of the death of nine Black people by a white gunman. They were shot at church in a Bible Study.

I’d already sent out the day’s musing about how we who live in Paradise don’t make room for everyone, don’t insist that Paradise is abundant. And then this, proof.

It could be one crazy guy except we tolerate crazy white guys doing this. This is a thing. This is a trend. This is a movement. White people killing bunches of Black and Brown people. Will his religion be on trial the way the Boston Marathon’s religion was? Will we (finally) wonder what it is in White culture that causes so many to go so wrong? Because it’s about time we do.

And in all the pictures of the aftermath, people kneeling in prayer, people holding hands in prayer, not a white face in the picture. “And I didn’t hear nobody pray.” And oh right, I didn’t hear anyone say, there is an epidemic of white exceptionalism and it’s killing our neighbors. But it’s true. I didn’t see anyone say, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Ramadan starts today. Maybe while our Muslim sisters and brothers are refraining and reflecting, we might do the same.

I’m sure that some people like those in the AME church would be grateful to wake up in Not Hell. But Paradise is possible, if we understand the need to throw open the Garden gates and welcome the world. Do we believe in Life?

It’s time to wake up, step up, show up for Peace. It’s time to redefine and transform Paradise. Each and every one of us is needed for this hard and precious work.

Peace of the Small Bears

We’ve been surprised in town by the young bears roaming the streets and neighborhoods. Mama bears have new cubs, so they’re kicking out the teenagers to find their own territory.

There’s less territory for the bears over the years, and as we’ve moved farther out of town, we get a better glimpse of what has always been true, humans and bears are not good neighbors. They don’t know our bird feeders are not for them.

They’re delighted to find stashes of wonderful seeds just for them if they can just figure out how to have access! (erm… knock them down!)

The joy of small town living means learning the rhythms of the world around us. And occasionally the denizens of the forest wander in, and the game wardens have to be called to rescue them (and us from them) and guide them along.

When it happens, it’s a big deal and front page news and a great opportunity for our wardens to remind us that bears are more than cute and fuzzy.

While all this was happening, I was obliviously kicking my way up and down the town pool, less than a mile from the uproar. The afternoon thunderstorms had threatened in the distance, but nothing happened to interrupt our swimming. Summer during the month of the Thunder Moon: it happens — and isn’t it grand! The bear has a new home and Peace is re-established in the neighborhoods. Hope it’s Peaceful by you, too!

Thunder Moon Peace!

It’s a new month… and there were choices to make about names. Thunder Moon seemed a fairly clear winner given the storms of the last couple days.

This could be a month of seeing what’s true. It’s soon the longest day with the brightest sun for a slow and steady reveal. And there will be slashes of light casting a different look at things… We’ll be waking up early, because the Sun’s insistent. Shall we use the time to step up?

And things can be, should we choose, be shaken up in the time of the Thunder Moon — or we could begin to see that in fact things are already different from what they’ve been, or we’ve thought they’ve been…

It’s time. Are we ready? People, the Earth, All God’s critters really shouldn’t have to wait any longer on us, should they? All in for Peace?

Sweet Reminders of Peace Possible!

The weekend was so incredibly tense so it was just lovely to have a sweet day of community!

No issues to work, no big thoughts to have. The hardest decisions to make were not even whether I should test everything but rather whether I should try something again! Big decisions about whether I should just stand in the splash from the Skloosh, or whether i should get on the silly ride (I did! I did!) Oh, we give thanks for the bounty of food and the abundance of beloved, laughing community!

Four different traditions. All under a yellow and white stripped tent making merry. Life at its summer sweetest. And lots of pictures to remind us we were making sweet memories

And today? I’m going to find some more strawberries on this last day of the Berry Moon. From the way the next moon’s getting off to a start, it sounds as if I should choose Thunder moon. Apparently there were big storms last night, i confess I didn’t hear them. My basement isn’t a swimming pool however, so how bad could they have been?

But today, my dears, I wish you the quiet Peace that comes of great gatherings with good friends — the last sweet remnants of Strawberry Peace and the startling beginnings of Thunder Peace. wow? do we think it’s time to make a stir?

A Berry Moon Sabbath & a Need for Peace

It’s been a very intense weekend. And it’s not over yet. Pant, Pant…

But all of it has been wonderful, even the hard bits. No reason to think that it won’t continue to be the same. Although goodness me… what a journey.

Lucky that this afternoon, I’ll be gathering with a whole bunch of people from a whole bunch of tradition at the local amusement park. The sweetest little park in the world. There we’ll be: Jews, Muslims, UUs, and Christians sharing a potluck and going on silly rides.

There will be work for us to do some other time. But at the moment we’ll be celebrating being neighborly. What could be sweeter? And I’m sure my friend Sonia’s bringing something amazing to eat! 🙂 She always does! And there will be 50+ other people contributing, so look out world! here’s hoping there are some Berries for the Berry Moon! I can’t think of a better Sabbath (well, unless I got to just go back to bed and not move for a couple days!) But what a fun and silly blessing this will be.

And as I’m recounting the abundance of my life today, I’m still seeing two young homeless families on an early morning train… they had each other, and mamas looking out for babies, but not a lot else. We’re a nation that says we care about our children. And yet we don’t. We have homeless babies and homeless mamas. That’s no way to get to Peace. And Peace is where we need to go.

Preparing the Ground for Peace

It’s amazing how hard this work is to hear. Incredibly sobering to think I am called to help teach it.

Because they’re making no mistake about this. If I’m here, they’re clear, I’m here to do the work.

Yesterday was a challenging day for all of us. I knew going in, of course I did, that I was going to be confronting my privilege. I don’t know if my Black colleagues understood how very challenged they and their work would be.

At the end of the day there were a lot of headaches and and heartaches.

Tell, us, you say…

The broth isn’t cooked yet, I can tell you that. It hasn’t clarified. I believe that what will result will be health-giving. For me. For the social service directors I’m in class with. For our communities. And I believe it will set up a fire in our bellies to do the work.

But in the meantime the chopping, slicing and dicing is laborious. Yesterday my Black colleagues had to deal with the fact that the in addition to the pain they felt as they’re disregarded in their work is only part of the picture. They also sat through hearing that the work they’re doing may be, by its very nature, damaging rather than helpful to the constituents they work with. The trainers’ argument was compelling enough that no one was really thinking the trainers were wrong… It just makes you tired… and sad.

There was lunch eating with kind, but confrontational women. Even with the best of intentions, we often miss the point. Or at least I do.

And after lunch the work was about White folk… You couldn’t have listened to the morning’s talks and not known this was coming. It was about the privilege we have at every moment of the day conferred upon us by a system built upon people’s being one down.

My work this weekend, so far, has just been to stay open, to try and hear what’s being said. To hear the critical analysis. To hear the way the world impacts people of color. To hear the pain of these highly educated, well-paid, very talented executives.

And then to allow myself to feel my own sorrow, to see my unconscious acceptance, and to not let any of that stop me from being part of a group who does things to make a difference.

To recognize that I’m only a Peacemaker when I’m making Peace for everyone. I’m only a Peacemaker when I’m waking up, stepping up to the hard work of social action. When I’m creating not only the beloved community, but the just one. No Justice, no Peace, Bob Marley told us. I’ve sung it… have I ever really listened to the words? or listened to my heart after the words? we need to… the world needs us.

Ah, The Peace of the First Swim!

At last! I finally got it together to get to the pool and buy my membership. It’s cheeeeep when you’re over 55. Set up my locker. Settled in for the long haul! Sooooo happy.

And the water was delicious. It’s a great pool. It was about 6:30 and there were lots of parents there with their toddlers for a postprandial swim to get them tired out for bed.

Only sore point? The music. It has a great beat for water zumba which is mostly what i was doing, but the language was all about sex and oooh pretty explicit… and also demeaning of women. So I’ll have to pull on my curmudgeon outfit and talk to the very young staff about why a) babies don’t need to listen to any of that shit and b) it’s really sort of anti-feminist if you listen to it, and that they might not want to give those messages either… gagh.

But really, it was heavenly… There is nothing sweeter for me. There are so many memories. love, love, love it. Peace of a whole summer’s swimming to you. But oh, i’ll miss my swimming buddies…

Sacred Village

Building a World of Peace, Village by Sacred Village.

The Priestess Is In