Confusion on the Way to Peace, llvl

Not only is the path to Peace incremental it’s prone to fogs of confusion. Actually, I’d say the path to anything that matters is fraught with difficulties.

But confusion’s a particularly annoying one. When I was younger, I would too often plunge forward and then spend precious time recovering from my urgency. And there’s something very seductive about the doing and the crisis management.

But wisdom, or laziness, or the increasing canniness of age has taught me to marshal my forces a bit better. Look, it’s foggy. Think I’ll wait until things have cleared up a bit. Might as well have a cuppa or look, there’s champagne.

And then, while sitting, taking the opportunity to visit a bit, just a bit: How are you? “Lovely baby. Where are you going? Oh, you know my Cousin Harry had exactly the same problem…” Sure, you want to exercise a bit of caution, but most sojourners are fine and happy to reassured of their fellow travelers’ humanity.

Make friends — because really, isn’t that the point? It’s disarming in many ways… figuratively as it relaxes everyone, yourself included and literally, as it’s harder to be combative with the folk with whom you were just being neighborly.

Who knows, the people you’re talking to may even know about the road conditions. After all, it is Peace you’re working toward. You want to wind up friendly at the end of the journey, it’s sort of the point. You’ve got to sit and let things unwind anyway, might as well pass the time. Clarity usually arrives and then it’s time to be off again, but now you’ve created new connections with your fellow travelers. Now you’re a confederate of travelers, a community. Again… the point, right?

But in the meanwhile, make nice and enjoy yourself a bit. Start with the noncomittal and build. You’ve little to lose and perhaps much to gain.

Pleasantries make a mighty good walking stick on the Peace Journey.

Peace from the Past, llvl

Ahhhhhhhh…

When the past was good, it’s good to visit. I spent last night at the house I lived in for 4 years. When I moved back East, my friend’s beloved moved in, so I get to go back to my neighborhood to visit… It is such a sweet thing. Of all the places I’ve lived, this place had about the best la vida local. It was a neighborhood… yeah, even kind of a ‘hood, but delightful for all that.

And as Jen and I were arriving from different places, another neighbor who doesn’t live here any more, walked out of her mom’s house. Hugs all around! Not two hours before that, I had run into a former wedding client in my friend’s fabulous store. Connections! Community! Life! Love!

I’m short on time, trying to fit everyone into my two minutes here, which is ridiculous and i can’t. But I’m getting a good armful of people I care about and miss a lot. The past has it’s own special Peace. Sometimes it’s because you’ve made Peace with the hard parts. Sometimes it’s because making new memories with the folks you made old memories with is the sweetest thing in the world. Living la vida local… past and present. It’s a good thing… good too to remember it’s not a new thing in my life. Rollin’ in the Peace. May you do the same!

Warm, Expanding Peace, llvl

Warm air. It’s quite a remarkable thing. Warm, flower-scented air, even more delightful. The opening continues to catch me off guard in a delightful way.

And I’ve stepped, momentarily, into warm scented air that I used to know. I’m visiting a friend, walking paths of earlier days, letting the memories roll out. And so many of these memories have no overlay of the grief I have recently encountered. They have their own remembered challenges, but also many, many, many sweet triumphs… and giggles. There were lots of giggles. And this is a place where I moved from the person I had been to the person I would become/was being.

It’s wonderful to be making new memories in a place of old community and connection.

This place is much farther into Spring than the place I left. And I’ll miss that brave unfolding with daring daffodils defying the chill and the breeze to bloom, damn it! But here things are bravely lush, defying the drought. There is here a determination to bloom as fierce as any. (Sweet Deb, for bringing back the angel, surrounded in truth and possibility!)

This is sere landscape. But not right now. Right now it is as rich and lush as my memories and sweet on the heart. Peace Pieces, back from the past. Blessed be… Blessed am.

Feelin’ it Peace, llvl

Sunday we had a humor service at church. I tend to love humor as it occurs rather than as it’s planned, but I admit it, I roared… The kids were hilarious. The other guy definitely upstaged me, glad i wasn’t competing. I did my usual oh, so meaningful sermon. (eyes roll) But it seemed to go over.

What I love about this community is that we laugh all the time. When we’re working on hard things and when life is going along easily. What I also love is that we cry easily too. We’re willing to invest in one another and experience the edges of life, which are often sharp and uncomfortable and to do that right alongside the mundane and daily life.

Emotions exist to be experienced. I’m not talking about drama queens, I’m talking about life’s normal ups and downs. What does it mean that we have drugs we inject into our foreheads and our upper lips so that we have no lines? I’m not excited I’m older, I’m far creakier than I was. Yes I have very different fun than I used to have, but I had that fun and that wasn’t better, it just was. Life’s an amazing thing. And of course, getting older means living a rich life of memory and possibility. It means more moments of self reflection and more moments of pure magic. And it means finding your equilibrium, your balance.

One thing we know about these great prophets is that were in life. May the same be said for us!

Staying Local for Peace and Life

You know it happens, so you shouldn’t be so surprised. But when the people on the shore behind you in Florida come from 6 miles away from your home in Pennsylvania… and you know someone in common… that’s a sweet coincidence. And ok, sorta weird.

And that’s life.

In addition to the wonderful weather, there’s wonderful family here. When you don’t see each other all the time, you work hard to create the family and then you reap the sweetness. And that’s life.

It’s hard to keep up with everyone you love. It’s hard to stay connected. It takes hard work.. But the effort makes all the difference. Then once in a while there are chance encounters that make you laugh out loud. Stay present to the moment. Count your blessings and just be overwhelmed with the sweetness. Make memories where and when you can. From such things Peace grows. And alongside it the realization that every bit of life is local. It’s all about your showing up!

Sugar, Peace & La Vida Local

It’s sugar time here. Or was for a weekend. And won’t be again for a while, if, as is threatened, another Polar Vortex comes rushing through.

It’s the thing about living where you live. In New York City or the Bay Area, if I talked about sugaring, it was all a metaphor. It didn’t happen there.

But here, where I live, weather conditions change and people I know go out into the woods and stick a spigot in their trees and hang a bucket on it. And then they boil. One woman boils in her house. My buddy in MN boils over an open fire. He wrote this morning saying it’ll be the Equinox before they have the first syrup over ice cream… It’s hard work that relaxes, makes memories and deepens the sweetness of the syrup.

Another guy I know is talking about becoming a beekeeper. Lots of people I know garden and then make amazing meals from their take. Since I still tend to eat ingredients rather than a meal, (although whew! can this girl chop veggies for a salad!)

When you live close to the land, the land is part of the local life… whether you work the land or admire it from afar.

Sugaring, bringing a little slow Peace and Sweetness into everyone’s life.

Traces of Peace, LLVL

I was a bit lost yesterday afternoon when it came time to write the day’s musing… it’s not a common occurrence, but I’ve been doing this for three years, and it happens. I asked a friend, what should I write? Write about our ice skating escapade he wrote, about the web of life and how it causes community. Hmmm.

Now when I say “our ice-skating adventure,” you understand, I don’t mean MY ice-skating adventure. I don’t do that. I’ve never had great ankles, and I’m not all that steady on my pins. Those two pretty much eliminated any childhood winter olympic dreams I might have had! No, this was a church outing. Although I have to find out if they have those ice-walkers for adults that they have to keep kids upright. I might be more willing to try it again… and less likely to experiment with my “triple-klutz.” (although that may be optimistic!)

But the thought for the musing certainly had possibility, and it wouldn’t be the first time I wrote about something I didn’t do. I’ve written a perfectly lovely poem about biking, and my balance doesn’t encourage that, either…

But the notion of tracing the lines, that move from one single line carved in the ice to many overlapping lines was intriguing. that some of the lines in the web are straight and sure and some are wobbly and uncertain makes the comparison to the web of life more realistic.

And then, above the skates, all the emotions going on, fear, joy, laughter (i spared them my terror!), growing friendships and giggles. There had to be a game of crack the whip, right? That was always the funnest — even when you were the little being tossed off the end. So as lines were being traced, friendships were deepening, and memories were being carved into childhoods and communities.

A silly thing, really, just a day of enjoyment on the ice, but so many connections were possible — and many were made. Even if nothing deeper happened, here’s to winter and the fun of winter sports. Breathing in the frosty air is a treat unto itself!

Peace with the Past, LLVL

I’ve been batting clean-up at home. It’s been coming in waves. I do some things, get back on my feet and sink into my life. Which is busy and demanding and beloved. But tiring.

So when I get a moment again, I get rested and then I can consider what I want to do next to normalize what feels vastly un-normal. I am now the keeper of so much family goodness. But not all of it has yet found its way into final homes on my walls or in closets or…

But Saturday was one of those days to attack a pile. I had the time, I was in a good place. As did many of Deb’s friends, I brought home a bunch of clothes. Deb was much taller than I (to my eternal chagrin). So wearing her pants demands intervention. There I was intervening. zip, zip, zip. fix. fix. fix. complete assignment. moving through the pile and BAM. oh, right. these were Deb’s favorites. She wore them all the time. My sister. My sweet, sweet, no-longer-here sister.

So I had a decision to make. I could let them drag me down, tuck them on a shelf and never wear them again. I could throw them out. And forget recycling. Somethings the trash is the answer. And if I couldn’t wear them I didn’t want to see them on somebody else who bought them at the church yard sale. Or, I could take strength from wearing her favorite pants — put on the whole armor of Deb, if you’ll excuse the bad remake of a Bible verse. So, I chose. I’d wear them in pride. I’d step up and step out. They’re teal, after all. New memories to be made. New ways to count blessings.

So crisis averted i plowed on. Remember I put out a plea for coats for a friend. The woman who leads the yard sale obliged. As I was tucking them into the car I realized. They were Deb’s. I was going to have to learn this lesson. Let go. And really, deb would have been thrilled to know her stuff was headed to SD to keep people warm. And I reclaimed that very warm sweater I’d given away because really, it never gets that cold here. So there we are. Getting brave. Making Peace. Wearing the pants in the family.

HNY, LLVL, Peace

Whew! there are a whole buncho assignments! Is it possible to have a happy year, to live la vida local and to keep stretching out toward Peace?

I guess I think that the openness to the new (built on the old), the decision to pay attention leads us down the road toward Peace. Provided, of course that we agree that others in the world are invited to walk those paths with us.

Consciousness. Wonder. Love. Determination. All supremely difficult and challenging; all consummately simple. So, reflect a little. Determine to fill 2014 to the brim with wonderful memories. Commit to laughing a lot, a lot, a lot. And crying once in a while. Dream deeply. Resign yourself to the constant starting over a little smarter a little saner. Keep going down that Peace Road.

It could be a great year. Many more people might have what they need and the space to become who they’re meant to be. We could claim that space because the likelihood is if you’re reading me, you have a great many options. And then we could start expanding that space for others.

Want to resolve something? Resolve that you’ll be as kind as you’re meant to be. As generous. As observant. As happy. And then make it so. You’re already a wonder! Peace in 2014.

(and how about Deb’s opening photo? Pretty great, eh? Here’s to Deb Slade and her challenges to appreciate the beauty where we are.)

Stories for Peace

The Dark is the time of Sacred Stories. We are asked to recall and recite the stories that make sense in our lives, the stories that make sense of our lives. Every time we tell them, a layer is added. The meaning deepens in the telling and so do our connections to the stories.

We have choices about the stories we tell. We have choices about how we tell the stories, what is it we want them to teach us. We even have choices about the way our stories evolve, because we can make choices about how we live our lives.

When I started this year, I decided to let a new storyline emerge. I wanted to explore Peace in my life. Writing about Peace every day, no matter how obliquely has turned me into a Peace-Considerer and is moving me toward Peace-maker. Choosing to capitalize Peace and other nouns that lead toward it, while choosing to take power away from unpeaceful nouns by keeping them lowercase has had impact, on me, if not on others. The capital (particularly from someone who is capital challenged) is a small, lingering caress. I pay attention to the Peaceful details of the stories I tell.

And oh they matter, those stories. I’m trying to collect them about a friend of mine, who died a week ago. He was a wacky, wonderful guy with a sly sense of humor and a penchant for collecting things and people and stories. and awful jokes. There are so many Charlie-stories worth telling. Telling them well, next week when we have the memorial will help those stories settle into our collective hearts and become part of our history.

Telling Charlie stories will ease our sorrow and shape our shared future and perhaps our individual ones as well. That’s what stories do, the bring the past into the present and offer a path into the future. And if you make your stories stories of Peace, you will build a future of Peace. The more people in your stories, the more people on your Peace road. So observe so you can collect those stories, practice so you can tell them and listen to what you say so you know what to tweak and what to do next. Which ones exhort you to show up? Which make you reflect? Which count the blessings of sweet memories made from your feats of derring-do and your moments of collective lolling about.

Tell the stories that make you happy, make you laugh. Tell the stories that remind you that your heart bruises. Remind yourself of big work completed and little times enjoyed. Tell the stories that help you remember what you stumble over. Remember what you’re proud of. Tell the stories of how Love grows, and Hope and Joy. Tell them simply or embellish the heck out of them. But most of all? Enjoy each and every one of them. Peace, my friends… Happy Story-telling!

Sacred Village

Building a World of Peace, Village by Sacred Village.

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