In Your Own Peace, llvl

I’ve been thinking about presence, which I believe is a sacred act. And then I realized that too often I overlook myself as worthy of that radical action.

I postpone taking care of myself, my space, sometimes my wardrobe. I’m not always attentive with my money. Some of this is just personality. But some of it is not. Some of it is just stuff I procrastinate about.

And so last week, I started at the gym. Finally. I like to swim. I really like to swim. But even loving the water doesn’t get me to the pool three times a week. And the pool is not enough. So I’ve paid my money to increase my membership and now in the last two weeks I’ve been to the gym three times. I’ll go once more this week. Two or three swims and two gyms. Every week.

Because I’m worth it. And because I’m 62. If I don’t work on those core muscles now, I won’t have them later. All reports say it’s going to be a slip slidey Winter. Let’s keep the balance thing going. And I’m an Evans, and we’re pretty long-lived. That means I both want to honor that heritage and face the reality of needing to be in good shape.

It’s unlikely that I’m one of those people destined to become a gym-rat. I’m sure it will make me feel better. It will certainly make me look better. Somewhere, if I’m lucky there will be endorphins (so far, my biggest excitement about the recumbent bike is that I can read. OK. I’ll take that. Some people claim you can do that on the stair master, but somethings I don’t need to test quite yet. Maybe some day.)

But if I think of this as offering myself radical presence. If I think of it as one long ongoing prayer of gratitude for my body and my life, this may be the goad I need. Maybe. It really goes against my thealogy not to consider myself central to the hard work I’m willing to do in the world. And yet, I’ve done that effectively for years… sigh.

“It’s me, it’s me, it’s me oh Lord, standing in the need of prayer.” Don’t hesitate to ask me gently how I’m doing in this sacred endeavor.

So here’s me, counting me in as worthy not only of working for Peace, but of creating it for myself. Amen. Blessed Be. I wish the same for you and all your wonderfulness.

Serving Peace, llvl

It’s not that I don’t know that Peace is desperately needed all over the world. It’s just that I know that I am best suited for working on Peace here where I live, here i my little vida local. I have a friend Kelly who works on Peace with girls all over the world, she works to give them tools to know who they are, what they care about and what they’re capable of. She gives them space to love each other and laugh together. She’s planting seeds of Peace. Some of them are for Peace plants that explode into being and flower immediately. Most of them become tiny shoots that the girls nurture together.

Never underestimate the bonding power of late night s’mores… There’s a future in that.

I’m always clapping for Kelly, I’m a huge cheerleader for her, and on a couple occasions, I’ve been able to do more. Makes me happy.

But that’s not where I’m best. I’m best right here, right now. Standing in the Park with my neighbors, trying to raise money for programs that other people start and staff… June Jordan, poet, wrote what may be the most important words of my life: “We do what we can, more than that what can anyone ask?” This is my sacred service. This is my work.

But that much we can ask. How do we serve Peace?

Because if we’re not working for Peace, Peace isn’t working. If we look at this world, there are an awful lot of places that Peace isn’t working. For a long time, that whole servant metaphor didn’t do it for me. But I simply hadn’t found my cause. So… what’s yours? What’s the Peace in your life that you can’t rest if you’re not making some Progress toward?

Peace, Love and understanding — and for me, food in the bellies of kids in this Valley. Who’s in?

Reading Peace, llvl

The poetry group that I’m part of Poetry Under the Paintings, held at my friend Jody’s gallery Faustina’s, was invited to read last night for another poetry group last evening. It was held in the library that taught me to love libraries, the library where I read my way, alphabetically, through the great literature (and the lousy!).

Actually, I can’t say that’s the best way to absorb books, all of an author, one right after another… Russian novels are confusing enough one by one, five in a row? Ridiculous. But it suited my associative little brain and my devouring urge for more.

Until I started writing, I hadn’t realized how poignant this visit would be for me. I wrote about the river, I wrote about the rock, I wrote about the house I grew up in. It made me think about what I loved about living here, why I left, why I came back. It made me realize I’ve been avoiding Bloomsburg since my sister died. It made me remember how final death is and how that changes your memories.

It made me realize how incredibly lucky I am now and I was then. If we choose, memory is sacred and so is the making of new ones. Writing changes me for the better. It keeps me searching to identify my Peace. Lucky me. Peace is where we find it. Peace is where we make it. I choose then. I choose now. I choose Peace.

Pretty Peaceful Swimming, llvl

Nope, we’re going in. Lorraine’s Law. And friends go along if doesn’t mean jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. Even at 62, there you go along. It’ll be a while before I have the chance again.

um, whee? Clambering across algae covered boulders and stones, please, no slip-sliding awy… trying to get out to where you’re at least knee deep, so you can turn around, squat until you’re immersed and push off. oh, ok, whee! indeed, whEE!

It’s not as if it’s ever a real hardship to swim and giggle in the water, and by now I’m almost adept at the whole changing under the towel thing… this was NOT a day to push the “I’ll just sit here in my wet bathing suit and dry off thing”… brrrrrrrrr. barely 60 degrees, but we did it! And then there was ficka: tea or coffee, your choice and for each of us, a baked good of choice. I ALWAYS choose cinnamon roll, unless of course there’s something with almond paste… (no almond paste today, they’re moldy… bah!)

But it was a rewarding, wonderful moment of Peace, sitting under the Picasso sculpture on the shores of the lake… goodbye, lovely lake. goodbye, lovely swim. goodbye, lovely i’ll do it if you do it Peace… goodbye, lovely sacred prayer of Life…

It’s summer and we were swimming and that’s the way it is.

Neither Here nor There Peace, llvl

Swedish Summer has reverted back to its more normal up, down, little of this, little of that. (I’m trying not to feel too guilty that I sent my fleece jacket home… can it be my fault? Aren’t I the center of the universe?) At least, and Hallelujah, the horrible forest fire has finally been brought under control.

But for me the point about this weather… about any weather really, it is what it is. No, I’m not jumping in the lake every day. My astonishing tan, despite loads of #70, is fading… but I’m hanging with dear, dear friends and making space in my brain. Sometimes even using my brain.

My honey’s in CA with our family and his music. That’s pretty great. That’s a lot of Love. Love I can’t believe I’ve fallen into.

And if I were so full of hubris as to name all this bounty simply good enough, shame on me! My life is pretty damned fabulous even in this in-between weather in this state of leaving a Paradise I’ve visited and coming home to the Paradise I inhabit.

There’s so much turmoil in the world. Things are truly horrible. These problems are far greater than I can impact directly. Far greater than I can reason out — if you can reason out hatred… I’m trying very hard to remember that I can grieve, pray, and get to work at home. Get to work loving. Get to work helping. Get to work on my work, on being the best Ann… not just the resting Ann.

And so the transition. From here to there which will soon be here. Being present is actually a slow and fluid process… this particular here is so precious and so seldom shared with my friends, it takes time to disentangle and time to become the woman enrapt and rapped in her sacred, mundane life. Who cares if it’s cloudy or sunny? Love is. Peace is. And both will be as we believe they matter…

Today I get another picture from Deb to lure me home… that’s pretty sweet. Tomorrow you get it!

Peace Traditions, llvl

It’s the little things. It’s the places you go and the people smiling across the table at you. At Taco Friday, it certainly isn’t the food, although that was fine. But it was sitting in the sun — at six-thirtyish at this point in August, it’s really still pretty high in the sky.

It’s the friends. And the fact that we’re doing it again. Just like we did four years ago… or six years ago or…

This is what makes the oh-so-mundane sacred. If you’re going to have traditions, you have to step up, show up, something up… and care for them and for the connections that make them sweet.

Peace takes tender overtures, but it also requires continuing to show up… and sometimes it’s right in front of your face!

Swedish Sabbath Peace, llvl

This morning there is indeed Sabbath Peace in our hearts. Lorraine’s son called her about 11 last evening. He’d just seen his aunt’s post on Facebook. Her son was missing. He’d fought with his parents and stormed off. He was drinking, they knew that. He can’t drink on the medications he’s on, they knew that. He hadn’t shown up the evening before for an 11 o’clock meet at a concert.

What to do, what to do? They called. They posted on FB. People shared. His sister and her friends shared. The rest of us just hoped and prayed and willed best outcomes. But people came forward to comfort and to reassure. It’s happened to me, I’ve had that fear; yet it was ok.

Most of the time it is ok… but sometimes it isn’t. But there you were, willing to take a moment to think about a young man you’ll never meet and a frantic mom and dad. To hold your friend who holds her friends. Community, with the loosest of connections, but stepping up to be community.

So today, because of where I am and because of who you are, I’m counting blessings and giving thanks. For all the places we miss the mark, there are plenty where the arrow flies true. Thanks for being those well aimed friends. Love, it’s for everyone. Peace lies in our hands, which today were very capable. We must remember how capable we are!

Giggling Peace, llvl

One of the fun things about visiting Lorraine is realizing I’m still a teenager in side. When I first came to Sweden, back in 1969, we would sit at this cafe on the square in our little town and laugh. Swedes are many things, but boisterous is not part of the national character in the normal course of the day. (Remember that at the same time I was laughing out loud, I was also learning to curtsey as I walked by my elders — if you can imagine that!)

So Lorraine and I were always having to catch ourselves up from being giddy 17-year-old American girls and trying to fit in — because at seventeen, who wants to do anything other than fit in?

But there we were, laughing through the train (because for some reason our train door didn’t open, so we had to walk through two cars to get to our seats. And laughter doesn’t stop because you walk through a door — even when the door says: Quiet!

And of course being icily told to be quiet just meant that we were going to choke on our giggles. There are times to be serious, and I have a lot of them, but even in the serious times, I’m often laughing! Because even in the worst of situations there’s stuff that’s just funny.

I like that I still can be reprimanded for having too much fun. (And really, the train was 15 minutes away from leaving the station, and it’s a train not a library and we did quiet down!) I also like that I no longer can be made to feel uncomfortable because I’m laughing out loud.

Peace… it’s in the loud, boisterous moments as well as the tender quiet ones!

And as I said as I put my message out today, it’s odd that I can feel like a giggly teenager and still have someone rush to help me with my suitcases, because, oh, right, I’m gray-haired! Although, in my defense, I’m well able to handle my suitcases, even if i insist in taking too much stuff wherever I go!

Peace, my friends, I wish you light giggles and deep belly laughs (although not in the quiet car!) I wish you happy times with dear, dear friends. Keep making new memories and keep holding the old ones sacred. Inviting people into that sweet space is a wonderful way to spread Peace, bit by bit!

Sabbath Seal Peace, llvl

Well, it doesn’t get much more local than yesterday. It was hard not to be present to every seemingly perfect moment. The day before was the day of seeing the seals. They were hilarious. Look, the neighbors dropped by! And there they were in a big-eyed smiling circle, just hanging out…

Marg, my first Swedish sister, who lived at my house when my brother was an exchange student, took me out for our daily constitutional, hup, hup. We ended that with a plop into the sea. It’s gorgeous on the coast, but there’s not a lot of shade because it gets scoured by winter storms. So the water felt wonderfully refreshing. Silly Swedes were saying, oh, how warm (70˚!)… i was gasping a bit, but really… it was so clean and clear AND it was warm enough to discourage man o war jellyfish from the day before. yikes.

I need to fasten this ability to stop daily life and be present to the moment in my brain. it’s good to do this now and again. look at this. look at that. look at this. oh, taste this. summer, summer, summer. sea, wind, water, sun. and love! 45 whole years of it.

Tomorrow I move on, and I’m both sad and excited. This time is so worth the work and the wait and the resources required. I tried to think yesterday… didn’t work to well. Love will keep growing if you just pay attention. Connections will be woven.

Today is Sunday and there’s a cake party underway. two cakes being baked. I’ve been assigned to assemble the meringue torte… under strict instructions. but what the heck. meringue, raspberries, blueberries, whipped cream. for that, I’ll follow anyone’s direction, do it just the way they want.

Yesterday was a tired day. couldn’t remember how to walk or speak swedish or do anything, so i stuck to doing the dishes and folding up the wash.

We finished the evening sitting on the patio until it finally got dark at about 11:30 (sun went down at about 10:10!). Two of Marg’s friends dropped by and there was a lot of laughter and tales of days gone by. Life is for the Living. the Sabbath is for the noticing. (I’ll be noticing the four cakes!) and for the reflecting as I pack down my suitcase for the next time… Heaven has been spotted many times. The bad news is that there are 4 inch slugs in Paradise. and i stepped on one… urgh. Peace. Gratitude. Beauty. Wonder. Love. ahhhhhhhhhh. Keeping the sacred in the sabbatical.

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