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

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

 

Gather ’round Peace Sabbath, LLVL

There’s something about people gathered round a table. Friday night it was old friends and some new. People who live here, people who don’t. Listening to great music. Laughing. Catching up. Singing along. Hugs on the break. It was fuel for the day and the tables ahead of me.

Yesterday we said goodbye to a lovely woman. Her sister and her kids were funny and clear, lost and, oh, so very proud of their sister/mother. People sang. People wept. People laughed. People paid tribute. It’s what you’d want to know people would do for you. It’s what you want to do for people we love.

And then we sat around tables again. She was loved, this woman. People cooked because she cooked. Her brother in law, lives in California, comes from India, also cooks. He made potatoes in California, packed them in their suitcase and flew to be here. Fed us. Love people, said her bumper sticker, feed them tasty food.

Today is a day of reflection. My Sabbath. After church, I’ll gather at a table with new friends. A quiet opening, so needed after the big closings of the past two weeks. We’ll laugh, get to know one another a little. And later, my usual Sunday night date with a friend.

Gather ’round. It’s where community is born, ideas are conceived, stories are shared and laughter grows. Sometimes the seeds of Peace are sown there. And sometimes, if you’re very lucky, some wonderful people will have pulled together great music to listen to. La vida local: Here’s to living it. Oh, right, first, i’ll go brush the fluffy white stuff off my car.

LLVL3Jan19

Rhythmic, Orderly Peace, LLVL

It feels as life is a bit out of control right now. Too much illness. Too much death. My heart is bruised and other hearts need to be tended.

I’ve been working at the swimming. Because water does it for Evans girls. I’ve written and written about that… Although, sigh, if I’m not consistent enough, and I’m really just getting back, my body’s a little whiny. Move? ha! Oilcan! Oilcan!

But my other go to is order and structure. I’m not an orderly person by nature. And when there are consistent time constraints, order is even more elusive. I’ve sought help. In the past with therapists… tell me, doctor, how do I put and keep structure in my life? Those conversations helped some. It’s actually not that i don’t have a good organizational sense, it’s just not my go to. Far greater help was a person who helps me clean and sort. Oh, sweet Sarajane, what a treasure you are. I revel in the order you bring, I search for more and then… miracle of miracles, you come back. And when other things aren’t working easily, there’s space in my life. So yesterday, when things were spiraling, a quick dose of dump, sort and fold reorganized my closet shelves and made my bedroom welcoming.

That helps.

And then I went to church where a group of people were preparing for today’s memorial potluck. Sweet companionship. Setting up tables. Pulling out my wedding table cloths (almost 6 years old, still giving pleasure). Folding the hymn sheets to go in the programs. Chatting. About Jean. About the church. About nothing in particular. Laughing. And just being company when everyone’s hearts are a tad sore. A place for me to be comforted as well as to comfort. Mourning has a rhythm all its own. You sometimes have to sit down and listen very closely to find it.

And then to end the day, the arrival of sweet friends and the opportunity to sit in community and listen to great music. Darling Drummer was in another town playing for dancing, so the comfort of knowing he was happy and making others happy. And the joy that there are plenty of other people around to keep the music going. And this, my friends, is how you fill up, how you strengthen yourself for the work to be done.

Peace is often in the community. Living la vida local helps you be a part of the community. You know your neighbors. And they know you. Yesterday, there was a simple showing up, stepping up. Today, there’s a service and a potluck. Tomorrow, there’s a place to heal, watched over by friends.

LLVL3Jan18

 

Snapshots of Local Peace, LLVL

I know it’s not enough. There are much bigger issues to work on. but sometimes the Peace you work on has to be tailored to where your heart is. You also have to trust that your friends will do the big work while you’re doing the heart work.

What startles me into pleasure about the village is how caring and concerned it is. Caveats? you betcha. You’ve got to work your way into this village. But I’m here right now and it feels damned good.

Soon enough I’ll turn my face to the Peace and Justice trail. Right now, there are broken hearts, my own among them, as we mourn a woman who laughed and stitched and fed a community of people and of cats. Jean Weston, we’ll miss you. Saturday, we’re going to do our best to celebrate the joy you brought into our lives. In the meantime. we’ll be seeing you in all those old familiar places… and take up the task of creating family and creating community on your behalf.

And just a note, we were all confused at exactly how MANY cats were going to be meeting you at the rainbow bridge!

LLVL3Jan17

Peace Companions

I live in the most extraordinary place. But then, so do you. It’s simply a matter of paying attention.

Since beginning this year on Peace, searching the headlines and searching my soul, I’ve seen many different and wonderful things. They were probably there before. I just wasn’t seeing them because I wasn’t looking. My facebook connections have morphed, deepened. Sure there are lots of fun and fluffy posts. Nothing wrong with that. I’m a fun and fluffy Gurl myself… There’s a reason I wanted to name my TV show: Sister Fluff and the Goddess Gospel Hour. I think we’ve overlooked the value of silly laughter and that silly laughter can leave us entrees into the more profound. There’s even lots of stupid, hateful stuff on FB, but I see a lot less of it now that I’m posting consistently about Peace.

Is FB the right place to post about Peace? Yesterday I heard a talking head say there’s something like 7 billion people on FB and one in 7 (again, these are sorta numbers, because I can’t even remember where I heard these, but a WHOLE LOTTA FOLKS are on FB… and if we start spreading our peace posts out. If we start reposting our friends’ wisdom when we encounter it, we can sweeten the pot, deepen the flavor. Some people would say cheapen… that FB is too glib. That’s not my experience.

Here’s my experience: I see more people who are doing great work. I see more people who are posting about things that matter. I see fewer people who are only worried about money or hate. I see people stretching out. I know there are people following me, the professional me, not the personal me (although they’re pretty related) who don’t agree with lots of what i think, yet who encourage me to post my peace dreams. They’ve reached out during my grieving.

I believe we all have dreams of Peace. We just need to encourage one another. Peace gets made in little ways as well as large. We’re in charge of the little ones. Let’s get going. (and let’s make sure we stop for a cuppa, because that always makes the journey more fun.) The community is larger than we think.

PeaceNovember14