Winter Peace

It is cold outside, I have to acknowledge that. But I’ve decided not to fret about it this year. It’s not going to be too cold. It’s not going to be too hot. It’s going to be life. I live in the Northeast. We have winter. It rains. It sleets. It snows. It’s cold and windy. It is what it is. Because you know what? Life gets cut short. And then there’s no time to spend together.

And if we spend our time together wishing our way our time together, we’re not having time together. I spent a lot of time last year working on improving my relationship to the dark and searching for the mystery. I think I’ll spend a lot of time this winter looking for (and finding!) the beauty.

I’m going to buy marvelous potions and lotions and slather myself in them.

I’m going to wrap up against the cold and take long walks. I’ve got the gear. Why not try it out?

I’m going to hope for snow and be glad to shovel.

I’m going to light candles in my house and keep the tea and oranges coming. I’ll keep my house clean and cozy.

And I’m going to give up wanting the clock to move in anything other than its stately progression. I’m going to work to be present and self-reflective. Because this is the time I have with you. This is the time I have with me.

So Winter is going to be all about Peace for me. It’s going to be about wonder and the sacred, sacred Dark. It’s going to be more work on living my life as a prayer of thanksgiving. I hope it will be for you as well. Because it certainly is beautiful. And this is our time.

No Love, No Peace

It’s easy to mourn from a distance. It’s easy to be infuriated. It’s not my tradition. It’s not my rights, either to marry or to perform a ceremony that are being abrogated. I am not married because some of you cannot marry, but that was an easy gesture for Steve and me to make; we had no compelling need to marry.

But I’m far sadder than I thought I’d be, both because of the hatefulness and the willingness to allow hate to overshadow their very real responsibilities to Love.

I believe in church. I always have. It is where I have found meaning. It’s true that the meaning I have sought and found has changed over the years. I’m very happy being a Unitarian Universalist for all so many reasons. (you know spell check really should learn to recognize Universalism as a religion and stop telling me I’m wrong!)

But this is where I have immigrated, it isn’t where I was raised. That was sweet and wonderful time for me that eventually didn’t hold the meaning I needed. We held my sister’s memorial in the church we grew up in, and it was clear that that may not have been the best choice theologically, although it was an emotional tie. Too long gone. And way too much theological distance between us.

My early tradition taught me to choose Love. And when I did. When I realized that I would have to grow or lose the friends who were discovering or uncovering their sexuality, I chose Love. This may have been my first step into adulthood (the first step out of Eden?). I danced in and out of that garden gate for a while and eventually left.

And now it seems barbaric to waste time, energy and resources fighting about people’s Love (a pastor’s for his congregation, a father’s for his son, a son’s for his husband) and not about real injustice. Jesus never enjoined folk to hate. “Do you love me, feed my children.”

This year more Americans are going to go hungry. It seems people who style themselves as religious ought to be worrying about that.

I’m sorry for my clergy friends in other traditions who are living with these limitations. I pray for your finding your way forward. I’m sorrier for the differently-loving that you are told, over and over again, that your Love is not worthy. Those who tell you that are flat wrong. My prayers are with you all.

And I’m really, really sorry, that too many of today’s mainline churches would rather pick nits than do justice… and in the name of nit-picking commit sad and sorry injustice.

Food, Peace, Sabbath

Yesterday, my church had a casino fundraiser for a project that puts food in backpacks to keep children from going hungry on weekends when they’re out of school. It’s a great project and a great community building event — an all around win. In the county where this is working up to 70% of the kids qualify for free or reduced lunch. What does it mean that our children are hungry? What does it say about us as a culture, as a country?

We had great food for sale to support food for backpacks. For a little casino, we raised a lot of money. We’ve had to breathe deeply and decide to dig deeply this year. People will hunger. There are certainly political responses to that, and they may differ, although I’m not always sure why they should. But the religious response should always be to feed the hungry. The Dalai Lama holds that at the center of every religion is Compassion. Let us therefore care for one another.

It was lovely to leave that event and get invited home to new friends to meet their friends and to be fed the food of the gods… and to leave that event with a check for the first event.

Today I’ll spend at church (still cracks me up!) talking with folk who are finding their church home and later making my home homier and designing better space for eating at home. We all need food at home. Food may be part of what defines home. I’m lousy at that, yet I can work to get better. and as I do, I’ll be in prayer about ways to think about food at everyone’s house. So I invite you to spend some of this precious Sabbath thinking about food at home: yours and everyone’s. Gotta run and make breakfast before church…

Together we can be the difference in the world.

Peace Saints and Less-Than Saints

As the family slowly gathers for Deb’s memorial, and the year rolls around to what I find a very important time of the year: This is the season in quite a few traditions to remember the departed: The Communion of the Dead… and for some communion with the dead.

For me it’s always a chance to look back at what my ancestors taught me and look ahead at what I have to learn. I believe that most of us do what we can… I believe that those who came before did what they could. In some cases they succeeded wildly. In other cases, they missed the mark. In all cases, they had something to teach us.

In the soft light of twilight, we are invited to look closely at ourselves and decide whether or not we’re going to learn their lessons — whether that means taking on or shedding their behaviors.

Such a crazy time. I’m so grateful for the gathering, real and spectral, and yet, and yet, and yet. I will try very hard to walk in Peace, and to be gentle with myself as I work to stay open to the incredible outpouring of love — and grief — which is coming. We always promised ourselves we’d do this while she was still alive to receive the toasts. We didn’t make it, did we, Deb… I look for your face in the mirror… and sometimes i see it, on your own and in my own. Blessed, blessed be.

Obliging Peace

As a kid and a non-Catholic, I was always intrigued by the notion of Holy Acts of Obligation. As an adult with an even less Catholic viewpoint than earlier, I’m even more intrigued — and less tied to what they really were and more interested in what I think they ought to be.

For instance, thanksgiving. Not the day with turkey and all its fixings although I’m a pretty big fan of that, particularly fixings! But the action. The making reflexive of the giving of thanks first thing in the morning and the counting of blessings at night.

Each day is a gift. And if I treat it so from the very outset, it’s more likely to become that in fact. And I’m alive. I have great memories AND great prospects. And the present is challenging and engaging.

And so I give thanks. For all I have and all I am and want to become. And when I do, when my feet hit the floor, I am a different person and my day is filled with possibilities.

In my thinking about thanking, I also consider the countless religions that have small prayers to take you through the day… what would those thanksgivings look like, I sometimes wonder for those of us who live in today’s world… I may explore that… but at present, I will give thanks that I have friends coming to help me say good bye to my sister, to hold me upright when it is time, and that I may do this for the sister I loved so dearly. I give thanks that I have a cozy home and friends and family who have helped me reclaim my place in it in the aftermath of loss and grief. I give thanks for a wide-flung community with whom I laugh and kvetch and wonder…

I give thanks because life with all its challenges is mine to explore.

Catch and Release Peace

I didn’t set out to become a Midwife for Death. I can tell you that I ignored the signs a long time. And yet, it was work I did from my 20s. For some reason, I knew to be present, and wasn’t really frightened.

And there really isn’t a MfD 101 course anywhere. And guidance came in only the most sporadic ways. Someone offered a guided meditation, and talked about her early fears that she was jinx to her patients, only to understand later that her nursing supervisors sent her to work with those who were slipping away.

When I did take a course in Clinical Pastoral Education, I realized that oddly most of the clients I “caught” in the ER were dying and I sat with their families if they weren’t allowed to be there and talked with them afterwards. They trained me with their questions and their need to be heard.

And then there was AIDS and beautiful men dying gaunt and alone. Beautiful men learning how to care for one another. Oh, I learned a lot there.

What I learned is that it is as precious a moment to be there at the going out as it is at the coming in. That the labor to leave life is as extreme as the labor to come into it. That the ceremonies of “goodbye” can be as joyous and freeing as the ceremonies of “hello” or “I do.” That the invitation to be present to those passages is a privilege and not a weight. Your acceptance is an entering into prayer. This is hard work, but an unbelievable blessing.

The weight comes when there is so much death, one after another. Particularly now when I’m grieving my own loss. And yet, still the privilege of stepping up when people must be held. And perhaps there is healing in the notion that we all lose those we love. It is the payment on these astonishing lives we lead.

There is so much more I need to know. Perhaps there is a lot more for me to write since it seems so few are encouraged into walking this boundary with their loved ones, despite the fact that every loved one will cross sooner or later. More to learn about helping those who cross. More to learn about helping those who remain. I can read a lot and yet “book larnin'” isn’t necessarily the best teacher…

This is a deeply personal reflection for me, this struggle to catch the souls who are grieving and to release those who are leaving… I’m certain that many of you have parts of your life and your talents that you’re exploring… things about yourself you didn’t suspect… I wish us all Peace as we learn our trades.

Mountain Stream Peace

For me, there’s something about water running over rocks. I think I inherited this gene from my family. Dancing, skipping, burbling water surging through a canyon that continues to change as the waters rise and fall.

This place is not just beautiful, it’s dangerous. It seems a ludicrous statement on a fall day when 8 inches of water cavort by you. But two years ago this stream rose 20 feet to eat that bridge. Every year some crazy college kids assume they can run the spring run off and too often one or two of them don’t make it. It is not just still water that runs deep.

The space in the canyon not taken by water and rock is filled with trees and sweet, sweet air. Air that tastes like a benison after what we’ve been breathing down in the valleys. Air that we should fret over as the frackers peer over our shoulders.

To many times in the last year, I have taken my grief to this stream and it has eased my burden. Back and back again, I’ll go this fall, because my heart will be heavy a long time. I’m thinking that Steve and I need to go, drum in his hand and simply sit to watch the leaves change and the water run. He’ll find the rhythm the creek dances to… maybe I’ll find some words. Maybe I’ll just find the silence broken only by the hawks who scream overhead. I’ll be present and the prayer the creek offers will soothe my soul.

This valley is beautiful in every season. Even when the water roils and rises, Peace runs through that valley and caresses me on its journey downstream. Over time perhaps it will tumble smooth the shards of my heart and I will focus more on the dancing memories and less on the painful grief… But the seasons come and the seasons go in this Valley and my heart will fill. The creek and my beloved will see to that.

Foggy Peace

Luckily for me (and for you if you’re following me!) the world is willing to remind me why we keep working for the good. There is so much in life that is challenging, desperate and sad… that serves as a reminder of the many ways we can we work to make life better.

At the same time, there is Beauty that reminds us to pay attention. No matter how cynical we get about the “system” there is beauty to pull us back. Whatever else we pray/acknowledge/express… Thank you should be our first prayer and our last of the day. Giving thanks for what is opens us to see more Beauty. Seeing the Beauty and drinking it in fuels us for the work to be done… If Gratitude is not one of the direct routes to Peace, it certainly smooths the path.

Every time I cross it, or watch it, or sense it, I’m grateful for this incredible river.

Peace and Despair

I admit, i find it overwhelming right now. That youngsters, because they’re always youngsters, are so despairing of a future that they agree to become human explosives … not to transform the world, which would still be God-awful, but to kill people they’ve decided are enemies for existing.

On the face of it, it’s religion. At the base of it is poverty, no path forward, not enough, not enough, not enough. Here’s the truth. Not enough is enough to cause people to kill others. It’s at not enough that we must go to work.

I’m trying to balance the need for the Peace Journey when my heart is on empty. Right now all I can do is hold this up… but I will… and I do… We must look at the agony and be willing to bring it to an end. That’s the first step. There are a thousand, a million, a billion second steps as we each step toward peace in a different direction. Each and every one of them is a prayer for Hope and Peace.

Foggy Sabbath Peace

Mornings have been gentle lately, which is all to the good for me. I’m slower to embrace the day since it brings unwelcome realities. But the intensity of this time has also awakened in me the desire to sit quietly together under the arbor (bees buzzing overhead — the bees, oh, the precious bees), with a glass of cool mint tea, and consider how we might move forward in peace. The pages of the calendar turn, the seasons change, and Sabbath comes around again, with any luck, bringing with it peace and quiet.

So many of us have worked so hard, and now is the time to press the issue, to stand together. The next month and more will find our Jewish friends celebrating many holidays… peace, repentance, a new year, the harvest. The rest of the world would do well to pay attention… With my mind occasionally able to refocus, this is my prayer, that we make Peace, that we, each and every one, become Peacemakers.

But let us be gentle with ourselves today as the morning is gentle with the day. Enjoy September’s Mandala, Peace Arbor, about which Nanso (Nancy Cleaver, the artist) says: “Where are you standing in the arbor of peace? A tiny bird’s flitting view of light, of which it is made, was my inspiration for the squared spiral.”

Peace be with you. Peace be with us all. Peace be with us all because we make it so.

Sacred Village

Building a World of Peace, Village by Sacred Village.

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