Where Privlidge meets Addiction

I write you now from Ottawa, Canada from the UU Minister's Convocation. We are staying in a super fancy hotel with soft plushy downy comforters and pillows in a crisp white fine cotton weave. Everything is very elegant. But after the morning worship I walked out into the lobby to grab my 10:00 cup of coffee and found .... nothing. They had cleared out all the coffee after breakfast. I stood there in shock. How could I make it through the morning on that one tiny elegant 6 oz cup I had with breakfast? Friends and colleagues I hadn't seen in ages walked by and said hello, and all I could say, hands resting on the places coffee pots used to be, was "there's no more coffee!"

A friend from back in my seminary days said "let's just notice this is a conversation of privilege." I thought "of course, that's what coffee is- the morning luxury you can count on even in the crappiest minimum wage job" I pondered her comment as I went off in search of coffee and into the elevator where I repeated it to a colleague I had not yet met. She thought about it and said "but it's more than that, it's where privilege meets addiction." I liked this- who else but an addict would let the object of addiction come before friends? But as I brewed a cup of Starbucks Fair Trade Coffee in my hotel room I felt there was more. I mean, sure I'm living in the lap of luxury here, but coffee is something else.

As I sat in worship holding my warm cup in my hands, I realized that holding the cup of coffee and sitting quietly for a moment each morning is a time of arriving- whether at my computer at home, or at my desk in an entry-level office job, or here at a conference in worship. I love the ritual of it, of making the coffee, of holding the cup, yes and of course the shot of caffeine that helps my brain go. And I realized- the line between ritual and addiction and privilege is very thin. The fact that my morning doesn't feel right without that quiet moment, without the warm cup is both ritual and addiction. What a privilege to have a reliable moment of quiet peace and warmth each day.

Scraps

For as long as I can remember I have been the kind of person who saves bits and scraps of things. We have 2 plastic tubs of packing peanuts and bubble wrap out on the mud porch gleaned from packages we have received over the past 2 years. I have a box of ribbons and bows for re-use on gifts. I routinely spend a silly amount of time scraping out a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough lest half a cookie's worth go into the sink instead of someone's belly. It was a happy day when I found a device at the Green Home store that allows me to wash Freezer bags in our dishwasher. I could go on but you get the picture.

As my partner pointed out, however, I was forever leaving lights on in rooms I was not using. My parents nagged me plenty about this when I was a kid, so no excuses there. Finally the other day I found an image that has motivated me to change my behavior. Scraps of energy. Sure there's not a ton of energy saved if I turn off my monitor while I make lunch, but why should a scrap of energy deserve less respect than a scrap of apple peel? Somehow before our energy usage seemed like a flood my habits could not really sandbag. But scraps? Scraps I know how to save.

Now I've Done It.

I don't often succumb to the flood of colds and flues that invade this time of year. I am one of those folks who believe that getting plenty of sleep and exercise and eating well can help reduce the number of days each year you spend in bed feeling crappy. This year is the exception that proves the rule. I've been bad. I've been burning the candle at both ends for weeks. I've been doing less yoga, eating more junk, working or dancing until past my bedtime and even drinking immoderately on occasion. And now I'm sick. This whole past week I've been semi-functional. I managed to get a sermon together for Sunday (thank goodness I got an early start on that one) but as Sunday approached I just could not get a few clear-headed moments together to do a final edit. I think it went to the pulpit in draft form, not for lack of trying, just for lack of oxygen to the brain (sniffle, cough). And of course there was no extra reserve of energy to really preach it from the pulpit.

I knew I was running on empty since back before Bioneers, answering one last e-mail or doing one last load of laundry when I knew I aught to be in bed. Running on empty works as long as you don't need your reserves. Fighting an opportunistic infection requires reserves. Now my house is a mess, I'm behind in my work, and most importantly my health is a wreck. It will take a long time to build up those reserves I squandered so recklessly. I'm not saying it wasn't worth it- no way I would give up being on the Bioneers Steering Committee, or seeing Muldover at The Shop, or dancing to EcoTones at Wildfire, or talking late into the night with my sister and brother, or going Geo-Caching with my colleagues, or going trick-or-treating with my son and 12 of his friends. But now I remember fondly the days of yore when I had a spring in my step from being well rested and taking care of myself.

After Glow

Six months ago I joined the Finger Lakes Bioneers team as a volunteer, and this weekend it became reality. All weekend we heard lectures and stories, watched stunning images of life on our planet, talked, discussed and danced. It was really something to see complete strangers, some of them from Vermont or Maryland sporting their Bioneers name-tag, and consulting the program we spent so many months putting together. I was proud to have been part of the team.

Last night as I drove away from the conference I was sad, and grew sadder as time passed. I remembered driving away from the conference center in San Rafael in past years when I attended the headwaters conference in California and a sadness there too. This sadness comes in part just from being separated from that lovely energy and synergy of so many caring talented people committed to creating regenerative life for all of us. It also comes as the images and numbers and ideas and stories start to get sorted by the mind and heart.

"We should no longer use the word 'common' in the common names of animals. We take the presence of the "common" water snake for granted - which we cannot do any more," said one presenter as the amazing wildlife photography of his career flowed before our eyes, and he explained how much harder it is to find those images today.

A flicker of the graph showing the amount of Nitrogen run-off into our ocean from our farms that would kill all the coral reefs in the oceanic eco-system into which it flows, and how close that number is to the trajectory of our immediate future.

Lake Onondaga is a Superfund site. The whole lake. Mostly from the toxins used during coal mining operations dating back 100 years. And now the Hydrofracking of the Shale that underlies that same watershed.

All that gave me hope and joy during the conference- stunning slow motion photography of bats drinking from a flower, or those ever adorable tree frogs, the stories of Community art restoring the spirits of survivors in post-genocide Rwanda, American small towns rising up to claim legal standing for their local eco-systems, giving the rights under the law. All these hopeful, wondrous things weigh my heart this morning with how high the stakes really are.

Joanna Macy asked the question "do we have hope?" and answered, "it's not about hope or lack of hope, but about the work before us in the present moment... We are in our being a verb" she said "that verb is whatever we choose to do"

So before I clean off all that has piled up on my desk throughout these conference days, I have to take a moment to sit still with all of that, the awe, hope, joy, sadness and fear, and let it all change me. People took part in the conference from various disciplines and walks of life, but I think all of us would agree: the future is not yet written, and the verb that is at the heart of our being must be one that participates in a great turning towards regeneration of life, the life of this eco-system we all share.

Dreamscape

A few weekends back I went to visit my friend from preschool (and elementary, middle, high school, Maid of Honor, Godmother to my son...) With great ambiguity we cut through the town we grew up in on our way back to her awesome new home. As we got to the main intersection I had this inexplicable urge to turn right as I remembered a dream I had which took place along that road. It was twilight and I couldn't see too well, but the arrangement of the streets and buildings was exactly the same as it was in my dreams. As I drove around the library more and more dreams flooded back. I followed the path of one dream back over to the Middle school, followed a different dream path around the back of the school into a neighborhood I don't ever remember from waking life, but was completely recognizable from a few recent dreams.

I crossed the main street where I used to shop when I was young- the toy store, the gift shop, the pizza place. Most of the stores had changed over the intervening years, but the layout of the streets was exactly the way I dream of them. (Okay, there was that one dream where the toy store was on the wrong street, but the but the street itself in the dream just the same as in the waking town).

For some reason the parking lot of the Presbyterian church and the Train Station was a mother-lode of dreamscapes, but after zigging back behind what used to be the WaWa and the nursing home I decided I had tried my friend's patience enough, and headed toward our childhood homes. Another set of dreams just about the hedge between her parent's house and the neighbors! She pointed out homes of our old neighbors, who still lived there and who had moved. I barely remembered. But the layout of the streets by that apartment complex... dream after dream in exact detail. Then as we headed for less familiar areas we passed a softball field I had dreamed about only once or twice. I had no idea it existed at all in waking life, and could never have found it for love or money.

Somehow the blueprint of my childhood town is the blueprint of my dreamscapes. My dreaming mind has remembered that place in a way my waking mind never could.

No More Drama

When a church-member fell and dislocated his shoulder, it was explained to me that though "popping it back into place" is excruciatingly painful, there is a huge drop off in pain that follows. There is a dramatic solution followed by relative peace.

When I first started going to a massage therapist, I would come in with some painful knots or cramped muscles, and expect some kind of equally dramatic resolution to the problem; some kind of breakthrough or the kind of "pop" back into place one experiences on occasion in Chiropractic. Instead what I usually got was a moderate easing of the tension; relaxation rather than release.

This physical experience started to work on my sense of how other kind of tension can be resolved. Much of my life I had thought that psychological or social tension could only be resolved through a climactic dramatic event. If you've ever watched The O.C. you know that all problems are resolved through embarrassing scenes at important public events. I likewise assumed that my problems required some kind of cathartic blow-up or at least an opportunity to monologue and have a good cry.

But in my yoga practice I began to learn that many problems in the physical body can be resolved by backing off when you meet your edge. I had a pain once in my hamstring and so stretched it and stretched it hoping for release. Finally I realized that actually the pain was caused by over-stretching. Nothing was going to heal it but rest (well, maybe some ice and a little Arnica gel). Pushing harder was never going to resolve the problem.

One of the most challenging things I ever had to learn in yoga was how to soften a muscle. (I am still working on this, but at least I understand now that it is possible). I had some chronic upper back knots for awhile and assumed I would have to wait for my next massage to have the knots "broken up" but as I didn't have the funds for a massage just then, I asked my yoga teachers for advice and found a couple Yoga Journal articles on the topic. Whereas I was stretching my arms forward to release the back, they were all suggesting that I stretch my arms behind me to just allow the muscles some relief. One even suggested I "soften the muscles." This is quite a different paradigm. I want some hero to swoop in and to break up the knots, but am learning that for many problems in my life I can just focus my attention on allowing the area in crisis to soften.

Certainly there are times when one's life or relationships are out of alignment and only an act of will and strength can pop them back into a healthy place, but even when one gets chiropractic adjustment, it is important to have the muscles as relaxed as possible for the adjustment to work, and if the muscles are tightly held, there can be more pain in the recovery.

I start to apply this to the rest of my life as well. Maybe I don't need a dramatic ending to my conflict with another person, or to my inner struggles. Maybe I just need to soften. Sure it's a more exciting story when the resolution involves a dramatic event, but I no longer look for drama as the first solution to the tensions in my life.

Sermon Starter

All three of these plants were grown from the same pack of seeds. All were seedlings of about the same side when re-potted in 3 very different sized pots. Insert your own sermon here.