A Cool Spring Sabbath

On the one hand, it’s 27˚ this morning. Brrr. Have spent some frantic searching for clothes that are warm enough but still Springlike. Even I am tired of black for the moment!

On the other hand, the violets are out. I love violets. Love them. And the cool weather seems to be their friend. They riot across lawns, and because it’s cool, don’t wilt in the heat. They linger longer. And anything that keeps them filling my eyes and my nose with beauty gets a whoo-hoo from me!

The Sabbath… it’s a great day to take some time and go violet hunting. The payoff is both subtle and exquisite. Count your blessings as you count the violets. That’s a pleasant way to be present to a Sabbath afternoon and to store up memories so you have something to look for next year. Peace and quiet be with you. Enjoy!

The Peace of Enough

There is always more, we know that. More comfort, more Love, more Peace…

But every once in a while, you notice someone’s reveling in the enough-ness of Life. It’s good to stop and think in those moments about what’s enough in your life and whether you appreciate those things.

Right now, the grass is very sweet and tender in the fields. Every single animal I saw was having a good time, eating what was there. Occasionally someone would look around for a bit, and then go right back to the grass buffet.

Today, I’ll write, I’ll swim, I’ll meet with my women’s clergy group, a good friend, go with my husband to a doctor’s appointment, write some more, clean a little and then go listen to great music before falling contentedly into bed. Whether I choose to let it be enough is really up to me. May I remember to value each moment in my privileged happy life. And each time I remember to do that… life gets sweeter. What a great thing! Be present, count your blessings, enjoy. Happy, glorious day of enoughness!

Community Peace

Sometimes it works. When it does, take a moment and celebrate. Fasten that in your memory. Won’t always be this smooth, won’t always be this great. But when it is, it’s a reminder of why we do the work. It’s a call to be present so you don’t miss the moments. It’s all about the Joy. And on your way to Joy … and bien sûr Peace? Dance to the music!

This concert was one of the sweetest moments I can recall, because so much was right. hurrah!

Visions, Transitions, Peace (Paradise!)

Most of us hate the neither this than that, which is always more accurately both this and that. But we? like one thing or the other. Evolution and Change are demanding partners.

So we complain when Spring gets sunny but not warm. We hate when the sky fills with Spring clouds and spits snow. And while we all relish the longer days, we also want to be done with our winter coats. (The dry cleaners are just waiting for our coats to show up!)

One of the hard things in the midst of the transition times is holding tight to the Vision. We’ve made plans and initial essays, but we need the full vision if we’re going to implement it. And it’s almooooooooooost time to implement it. In the meantime we keep preparing. Putting on our coats and taking them off. But if you can, find a protected corner and turn your face up to the sun. That rush of joy is what Peace feels like when it spreads across the land. It’s what Paradise feels like when everyone can participate. Grab those little reminders. They’ll give you (me!) fuel for the continued slog. Inhale. Exhale. Begin again with your Vision like a flag before you. We can get there. I have no doubts about that. But getting there means being present in this instant. Because remember, Audre Lorde reminded us in Litany for Survival, “This instant and this moment, we were never meant to survive.” So her advice was to thrive in the moment, to count your blessings and enjoy it, because tomorrow will be different and how stupid if you’ve just wished this away.

The Ides of Peace

Many high-schoolers learned in English class to “beware the Ides of March!” which turns out to have been Julius Caesar’s, shall we say, date with destiny. I took full advantage of the internet to review what Ides really meant, and it was simply the midpoint in a month in which the weeks were not celebrated. There you go, facts with your coffee and tea.

Well, for me this was not a day to bury someone but to praise him, to keep messin’ wit’ Shakespeare. No irony for me, just straightforward gratitude. I think we often forget — or am I the only one — that we’re not on this Peace road alone. We’re not always savvy workers, sometimes we drive ourselves to exhaustion. When we feel weary from the hard work, we need to look around. We may even need to do that a bit creatively. People may not be engaged in exactly the same work we are, but they’ll be engaged in their work — which leans toward Peace. They may be having successes on the journey, which will remind us to be grateful and and empower us to keep going. I believe one of the best fuels is counting our blessings and successes. When we see how far we’ve come, it’s easier to understand why we’re tired and why this particular setback isn’t all that huge.

So, listen for the cheerful whistle! It will give you strength for the journey. (and you probably won’t hear it, if you’re not listening.) New advice after all those years (Julius Caesar died in 44 BCE — it might be time to change the day’s rep!), let’s embrace the Ides of March and those whose work inspires us. Maybe we’ll celebrate the Ides of Peace every month!

Warm Spring Peace

Yesterday, while leaving a friend’s house, I put my hand around the edge of the door and encountered something surprising and marvelous. The brass lock on the door was warm. It was warm from the sun. It was so surprising after the winter that I pulled my hand back hastily and had to search a bit to figure out the explanation.

Although not a snowy winter, it’s been a cold one. It was lovely to go outside and bask for just a bit and to exclaim over flowers making their way out of hibernation. That’s our assignment as well. Time to let the changing seasons coax those Peace dreams out of stasis. Let’s blossom. Because the other thing the sun will do is illuminate the places desperately in need of Love and Healing. Beauty can help. Let’s do what we can to bring Beauty to this world.

The Sweet Taste of Peace

I’ve been imagining Peace tasting like a rich combination of spices and honey. The spices would come from all over the world. You would add your concoction to some honey from your hometown. Imagine being the people who would build this elixir. You would need Tasters and Noses from every part of the earth trying this and trying that, figuring whether the mixture would “play” in every corner of the world. Ah, what titles: The Nose of Peace. The Tongue of Peace. (when it comes to bells, we’d need an Ear of Peace, but for the drums, merely the Heart, don’t you think? And Peace Perfume, that makes us move toward one another in Love and Peace, swoon.)

I wish i knew the someones who could do this work… wouldn’t it be fun to be invited in to taste Peace One and Peace Two, to decide which you liked better. Maybe every region would have its own Peace concoction, with an International Committee of Peace Spice Concocters. Oh, I like this dream. Imagine how drinking such a tea would make you feel — full of prayers and the counting of blessings; full of hope for the world and love for all who live here. Peace.

And imagine the aftertaste of Peace!

Bumps in the Peace Road

I lead a fairly privileged life, and I am incredibly grateful. I’m also fairly well protected, much of that protection comes from being well-loved. Here in the center of PA, I am an opinionated vocal laughing outloud woman leading a church that’s a happy amalgamation of so many points of view. For me, it’s heaven right here on earth. I’m proud of the work we’re doing and I’m pretty darned happy.

It took a while to find my place here; But I had old contacts to lean on and met and fell in love with one of the Valley’s most well-loved men. So being a Goddess-worshiping religious radical seemed to just get folded into their notion of Ann and I feel welcomed and accepted most of the time. I get to be me, right here in River City. That’s priceless, and believe me I’m aware of how lucky I am.

There are a lot of women ministers in this valley. I am neither the most radical nor the one accomplishing the most. Good women doing good work. I’m in great company. There are also good men doing good work, but this column isn’t about that. Life has changed in these local churches as more women ministers show up ready to serve in rural PA. All in all, there are more women in ministry now than there have ever been. That’s as true here as anywhere else.

So I am surprised when I garner hostility or outrage for who I am and what I believe. I mean, geezum, folks, if rural Central PA folk of many faiths and traditions can happily check with in with me on a question about their elderly parents or join the UUCSV in a fund drive for Staten Island Residents affected by Hurricane Sandy, you don’t get much more accepted than that. When the staunchly conservative republican woman stops by my breakfast table to remind me to remember to vote, life is good.

Then this winter, out I went to Palm Springs — California, that is, to find people horribly overset that a woman was performing a wedding ceremony, wondering about what kind of new-fangled tradition UUism was (um, about 1530ish?) and whether I was pushy enough to call myself Father Ann. (uh, really?) It was sort of funny, no one’s questioned me about my bona-fides for years, especially since i took on weight and grey hair. (And of course, in the meantime, lots of women were still getting ordained and flooding the market with a new kind of capable, caring ministers.) Not so funny, of course, were all the underlying hostility toward a lot of traditional targets, which I was kept busy addressing. And then, back home, the other day I ran into someone who just, to use a Swedish verb, nonchalanted me — just pretended I wasn’t there. (did i mention the weight gain? I’m there.) And this wasn’t at all belief related, because he made sure not to ask anything about who I was even though we were doing something together. He had something he had to do, and I didn’t want to make him nervous, so I let it run.

These days, I’m actually pretty secure in myself. It’s been a long journey to this point. But now? I love my work, I love my life with its web of friends and family, I love this beautiful, needy Valley filled with incredible resources — not the least of which is music. I’ve fallen jelly-side-up and I’m aware of that, I’ll tell you. So I don’t really have a personal response other than… oh, well, that was surprising!

But it does make me sad as I think about the distance that I forget needs to be covered for some of the world so we can move into greater Peace. I forget that I can’t just be looking ahead, and have to be looking behind for work that that needs to be done to pull people into the present. Some of that I won’t be able to do, this is why we all need help on the road, because you can do work I am incapable of doing and vice versa.

It’s easy to be outraged, but it’s not really useful. In this case, I am not wounded, although one of my sister clergy might not have the support I have. But there are so many who are not safe. So, may my experiences serve as a February wake-up call. And if we feel outrage, let it only be used for fuel and not for endless venting. It’s time to roll up our sleeves and dig a little deeper. Our world needs Peace. And we’re just the people to handle the job. There’s work to do in the world and work to do right here at home, wherever home is. And if you’re asked who told you that, tell ’em Father Ann, a witchy woman of Peace. Shalom, Salaam, Peace everyone!

Peace of Mentors and Friends

My mother was a particularly good role model when it came to mentors. She was a pretty good mentor as well, but she taught me the importance of mentors. She also taught me that mentors came in many different packages and were not necessarily older than you.

She was a painter. She put that on hold when she was raising children, and the second I went off to college, so did she. For 25 years, she took art courses, studio and art in the dark. She sculpted, she drew, she painted. She scandalized her hometown “girls” by taking life drawing courses. She learned from profs. She learned from students. She took advice and gave it back.

That’s a big key with mentorship, I think. Our best mentors not only help us to see our path and keep walking on it, they ask us, even demand, that we inform their journey. “Grow up! Stand strong! Be a player in this game of life!” they exhort us. They urge us not only to lead by example but also by kindness and by teaching.

I have been so lucky. I have sat at the feet of and carried the bags of great mentors. We’ve laughed ourselves silly together. And I feel the continued pressure to “get up offa that thang” and do my work. Part of my work is mine and mine alone. And part of my work is showing the way. I am very grateful… and I hope mindful.

If you don’t have these people in your life, you start looking around. Because you? are worth it. And because your dream of Peace is just a small fragment of the Peace mosaic… but without it, Peace is not complete. Mentors need to mentor, it’s their gift. And if you’re working your gifts, you’re the best sort of student to come along in their life, because they can point to your work with pride and say “I encouraged that wonderful person and his/her wonderful work!”

Peace of a January Kitchen Table

Growing up, meals were as much food for the soul as they were for the body. Incidents and encounters were related and exclaimed over. When I was an exchange student, I discovered that my Swedish Mama ran her tables the same way. We sat and we talked. I loved it.

I have learned more about people and their families seated around a kitchen (and ok, even a dining room table) than any place I can think of. Even now, when called to a hospital bed, the sweetest and most potent stories still seem to come over food.

I ate three meals a day with my family until I started 10th grade. Today, many families tell me they don’t manage a meal a week, let alone a day together. I mourn what they miss. I watch couples and families at dinner, all involved in their technology, and pity them the loss of story. They don’t know the rhythm of the give and take, the hesitancy before the heart opens to reveal a closely held dream. Who else but friends and family will, when the dream of becoming a hockey player is recounted, will respond first with an eye roll and a “well, you’d better learn to skate, then,” followed quickly by constructive questions and suggestions about how you might overcome your lack of balance and coordination.

Friends and families make us better people. We do the same for them. For me, much of that growth happens around a table, when someone who loves us well, sits back to listen or leans forward to question. Add good food, and you’ve got a moment well-worth cherishing for the rest of your life. I have laughed the hardest… and probably sobbed the most openly. I’ve bragged and confessed. I’ve listened and welcomed. I’ve been less than lovely and my very best self. I’ve concocted or ingested the worst food and they’ve been the sweetest feasts. Friends. who else would you trust with your dreams?

Sacred Village

Building a World of Peace, Village by Sacred Village.

Tag Archives: blessing counting