Carrots and Ginger

Our Sandy Dog

2012-01-27T21:21:00.002-05:00

It looks as if our dog Sandy is coming to the end of her life. The vets tell us she is in heart failure, and she is on a series of medications to help her heart work and to help keep fluid out of her lungs. Sigh.

Obviously this is on our minds all the time. Day by day her breathing is more work for her. I wake sometimes at night hearing her change her position, and as she curls up close to my head, I hear her ragged breath. But each morning she bound downstairs for breakfast, and greets us as we come home from work with great enthusiasm. She has a passion for dinner, and still follows us up the stairs even if we are just carrying loads of laundry back and forth.

I am deep in a quagmire of the most difficult ethical decisions I've ever had to make. It was so easy to say, back when she was healthy "we don't want any major interventions to lengthen her life." We had declined to follow up on procedures the vet recommended with cost estimates in hundreds and thousands of dollars. Longevity, we thought, is not the most important factor.

Now that she is truly engaged with the medical problem that will end her life, I look in my heart and am glad that we kept aside some savings for this final emergency, rather than paying for, for example, the dental cleaning that would have wiped out our savings. (the rub comes in knowing that sometimes the bacteria found on infected teeth can cause heart trouble).

But whereas I so easily could decide that 14 years was a good long life when she was healthy, the choices we are making now about whether her last day will come today, this week or next month are just excruciating. Vet bills and prescriptions are coming in each week at $100 or more (some weeks a lot more), but that seems crass to even notice the cost of keeping her comfortable. We saved money for an emergency, right? And isn't this an emergency? It all comes down to her quality of life, but even that is so mixed from moment to moment. Do we allow her to endure a night where breathing is not always easy in exchange for her joy as we put down her home cooked chicken and rice dinner or snuggle her on the couch? How much breathing difficulty is too much?

In minister school they say never to preach on a topic before you have really worked through the issues and come out the other side. But this is a blog, not a sermon. And I am deep in the middle of this journey. Tonight is not her night though. Tonight we are still glad for every moment we have her, for every time I get to hold my face next to her furry face and scratch behind her ears.

Anchors in a Storm

2012-01-09T13:46:00.000-05:00

Last summer my son and I took advantage of a clergy scholarship to visit Star Island for the first time. It can be reached only by ferry. We stayed at the historic and now somewhat dilapidated Grand Oceanic hotel built in the 1800s when time when that sort of thing was all the rage. Many of the folks we met as we nervously boarded the ferry had been making the annual pilgrimage for years. There is a history center on the island where you can see old-timey black and white photos showing people engaged in many of the same traditions that still live on there today. One of those traditions is polar bearing at 7:00 am. Now remember this island is pretty far north, and out a few miles into the Atlantic. The ocean water is not warm even on a sunny summer afternoon, but these folks start their day every morning with a walk out to the end of the dock and a dive into the chilly early morning water.

When I first heard of this tradition, I knew it was one that was not for me. Just taking a ferry out to this strange island to spend a week single morning it with my son and 200 some total strangers was challenge enough. But one day as I sat at lunch getting to know yet another new person, she told me that she was 80 and had been coming to the island for decades. I noticed around her neck the plastic beads that reward those brave enough to take the plunge. I was amazed. I had imagined a gang of burly 2-something men lining up on the dock in the early morning, but my dining companion said she never missed a morning. It was all the more remarkable since weather was just horrible for almost the whole week. There was drenching rain every day; Nick and I quickly ran out of dry clothes. The winds were so sever that the ferries to and from the island were canceled, and staying warm was a challenge even in the middle of the afternoon.The wind caused the cracked single pane window in our room to hum like the rudder on a Sunfish in good wind.

What got me through those rainy days so far from home, what I had to be sure of even before I registered for the program, was yoga. Every afternoon there were several programs to choose from, and I always chose yoga. I had discovered the first day that this was to be a gentle yoga class- the teacher was very specific about that. Some of the women who enjoy the same kind of vigorous yoga that I enjoy left the class to do their own practice, but in an island full of strangers, I needed a yoga community. Even though this was not the same kind of yoga I was used to, what was important to me was to have that yoga discipline to anchor my day. Even on the days when the storm was so intense that rain dripped through the roof onto the yoga mats of the folks in the back row and we kept running out for more buckets, even on the days when a cold wind whipped through the swinging doors. Even, and this was the hard one, on the beautiful sunny day when sensible people played hooky from their workshops and basked in the sun after days of being locked up inside in the rain, there I was on my yoga mat.

That last weekend of our stay, the sun finally broke. My son insisted we join the group of singers who gather each morning to walk the whole of the residential part of the island singing a wake-up song at every dorm and cabin. As we gathered, another group of folks sat in the white wooden rocking chairs on the deck enjoying a pre-breakfast cup of coffee and watching the island wake up. The polar bears were also gathering there at the edge of the dock in the glittering early morning sunlight. There were people of all shapes and sizes from elementary aged children to the octogenarian friend I had met at lunch earlier in the week. While I could see the appeal of taking an early morning walk around the island singing, I had this sudden knowing that I MUST polar bear before I left the island, or I would always regret it. So the next morning I got up even earlier, left my son abed, wrapped a towel around me and headed out to the dock. It was just as scary and cold and exciting as I’d thought it would be. There was a lovely sense of camaraderie, and after I proudly emerged from the water I reported to the guy in change for my very own plastic beads on a string to show I had been a polar bear at Star Island. I could see why those folks did it even in the cold and the rain. Because you felt like you had already DONE something, even before breakfast. No matter what else the day held, you had had your moment of excitement and camaraderie and you were awake and ready to face the day.

I thought about all the little traditions that made up the Star Island Experience, and how different people needed different things to make up their day- the folks who went door to door singing, the folks who gathered quietly on the deck with their coffee, the kids who massed in the snack bar in the evening, the night owls who walked out to the stone village for coffee house after the rest of us were tucking in for the night. I thought fondly of the morning worship after breakfast, and the procession of the lanterns in the darkness for worship at the close of day. I imagined these things like pillars that hold up the day we each build for ourselves. I had a vision of how days and weeks and years and lifetimes have pillars, and how I now had a whole bunch of sermons I needed to preach right away.

Progress

2012-01-06T15:27:00.000-05:00

A few months back a editorial in a local paper chastised those of us who have concerns about the environmental impact of hydrofracking. He accused us of standing in the way of progress. This has been like a pebble in my show ever since. I mean what is progress anyway? Just the inertial flow of inevitability? I was raised to believe that progress meant "building a better world" and I can't understand how watching out for the health of our planet, how thinking about sustainability of human endeavor stands in the way of building a better world. How is staving off the collapse of our fossil fuel driven economy for one more decade anything more than an addict finding one more dose of his/her drug of choice and so putting off hitting bottom one more day? Finally these words of Wendell Berry helped the pieces fall into place:

"That is to say what happened happened because it had to happen; Thus the apologists for the ruin of agricultural lands, economies and communities have shown always that they did nothing to stop it because there was nothing they could have done to stop it; (It's just progress folks.)" (Berry p. 323)

"Eventually that mechanistic line of thought beings us to the doctrine of whatever happens is inevitable. Actually, this stark determinism is altered in general use to a doctrine that is even more contemptible; every bad thing that happens is inevitable." (p. 231)

Old Friends

2011-12-29T14:55:00.002-05:00

Recently I spent almost two weeks couch surfing with friends and relatives. It was awesome. Some days it was easy to pull out my travel mat, change into yoga clothes and practice. I even made it to a couple of local studio classes as we moved from town to town. The weekend that we rented a house with a group of old, dear friends, however, it became clear that no time was going to organically emerge when the group energy would quiet down so I could pull out my mat. Finally as the band finished the morning-long process of hooking up all the electronica, I decided I could hear them as well form my bedroom as I could from anywhere, and so I closed my door with the intention of practicing. I was not convinced, at this point, that I would have the will power for a full hour of asana practice. It was too hard to be away from my friends. I was wearing kind of stretchy jeans, so I figured I'd just do a few simple poses and go back to the party.

After a few forward folds and cat-cow, still something was not right. How would I know that I had practiced? What is the difference between really practicing and just stretching a little? I figured I should roll out my mat and change into yoga pants. I began as I always do with Sun Salutations (I like the "c" salutations to start). I had been away from home for 9 days and hadn't slept properly since we left, so I knew this was not the moment for my most vigorous flow. I began slowly, really focusing on my breath and sinking into each pose. Now I felt like I was practicing. Sun salutations are like an old friend -- how many times had I done this sequence over the past 10 years? Too many to count. Entering this familiar flow did what any practice is designed to do, to root us and bring us back to ourselves even in confusing transitional moments.

The lesson became even more powerful and personal as the sound checks and improvisations in the living room just outside my door turned into an old familiar song- one I had been hearing my friends play since long before my yoga practice began. The song was an old friend, one I had heard so many days listening to them rehearse, so many nights hearing them perform. How many ordinary and extraordinary occasions had this song been with us? And of course the voices were my friends' voices -- old, old friends. Friends who had been with me for my whole adult life, who had been with me as I found my calling, who had been with me on the Playa, who had been with me as I got ready to become a parent.

And here I am, alone in my cell, Sun Salutations leading to standing poses and backbends as they inevitably must. Surrounded by the sounds of old friends. The old familiar songs, the old familiar travel mat flaking off in bits on my hands and feet, the layers of meaning and memory in asana and music. 3000 miles away from home, still I was at home. This is what it means to practice.

[Note- this post is double posted on the Yoga Blog. Seemed only right.]

The usual thing

2011-09-14T13:56:00.000-04:00

It's great to have a creative mind. It results in folks saying to me consistently "I've never thought of that before" or "You always make me think."

It's not so great when you are trying to get through the usual day-to-day of life. For example, any time someone assumes there is some usual normal way of thinking of things I am suddenly adrift. "Go to the usual place and do the usual thing" they say, skeptical of my intelligence. Sadly all instruction manuals work this way. Blerg.

Monday Morning

2011-09-12T11:28:00.001-04:00

A couple of weeks back I had kind of a crash landing from vacation back into parish life. A wedding, a memorial, a communion service and a board meeting all within 30 hours. Then Monday morning came, and I sat at my dining room table in an empty house with a cup of hot coffee and fresh local peaches sliced over cereal reading a novel. "Ah" I thought "how lovely this moment of peace to balance the intensity of ministry" I wrote a note to myself "blog this." Surely Monday morning is to a preacher a quiet moment of Sabbath.

This Monday morning, today, I rose with sore muscles from a weekend of moving furniture and debris out of our flooded church basement. I am reading Holmgren in preparation for Sunday's sermon instead of my now neglected novel. My mind races with e-mails to be sent - will power be back to the church neighborhood in time for this week's classes and meetings? Will we have to end early to meet the National Guard curfew? Did we decide what would happen to those old windows still stacked in the basement? I wonder about all those volunteers I left busy at the church when I started the long drive home yesterday. Even so, the warmth of coffee, the late-season peach cut over my cereal. A quiet house. Gratitude.

Top 11 favorite moments at Grass Roots 2011

2011-07-28T21:24:00.001-04:00

1. In the middle of that 105 degree day, this antique fire truck appears and starts spreying water into the crowd. I run into the middle of it, back to the spray, and the misty air is full of rainbows.

2. Coming back to my camp Saturday night and finding The Sutras chilling pre-show with my partner.

3. Walking the peace labyrinth in the dark Friday night as John Brown's Body echoed off the hills.

4. Watching the fiddler from Driftwood single-handedly keep the whole crowd dancing while the guitar player replaced his broken strings.

5. Blocking the street with Midnight yoga.

6. 25 Jimkata beach balls at the grandstand.

7. Any time a friend finds us at our camp is a good time for cocktails.

8. The shade of an old tree and fresh squeezed juice with lots of ice

9. Seun Kuti's sexy Tom Jones pants

10. My son and his friends rapt as they effortlessly blow bubbles as big as themselves.

11. Every minute of the Balkan Beat Box.

Thinking about Thinking about it.

2011-07-15T19:06:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking about music again. (Notice I say "thinking about" and not "making" music).

For those of you joining this story already in progress, I was a music major in college and dropped out half way through a masters in voice performance. So many years of practicing every day. Then nothing. The muse took off and did not leave a forwarding address.

When I finally got around to watching Tim Burton's film version of Sweeney Todd I flashed back to myself age 11 sitting on my bedroom floor, album cover in hand singing along to "Green Finch and Linnet Bird." I had forgotten that I spent most of my middle and high school years listening to LPs of musical comedies and operas in my bedroom in our old Victorian house which provided enough room to sing and dance along. Seriously. Hours and hours each day memorizing every line and choreographing little dances. Of course by the time I was in high school I was also sitting at the piano with actual scores to these things (my dad had a surprising collection of Gilbert and Sullivan vocal scores.) And naturally in college each day there was a couple of hours of voice, an hour of piano, an hour just listening to the repertoire in the listening library (they had this awesome copy of Gounod's Mireille in a fuzzy orange box. I remember checking that out a lot) on top of music theory and all the regular undergrad classwork. Now I would have been embarrassed to enumerate this to any of my instrumentalist friends, because it would show what a lightweight I was. I mean, if your practicing less than 6 hours a day you're obviously not that serious, right?

So yesterday I had a little tune in the back of my head. It's one I've managed to learn the 4 chords for on the mandolin. I thought maybe I should sit down and work on it. Then I had this thought "music is so much work for so little reward" as I sat clicked on the computer with a fresh cup of coffee ready to work and re-work the sermon I will be preaching this Sunday. It occurred to me that I spend 10+ hours a week on a 20 minute sermon. If I spent 10+ hours on 20 minutes of music week after week, it might be worth listening to.

Then I thought about my yoga practice (I practice yoga at least as much now as I practiced my voice lessons in High School). I've spent the past 5 years working on pincha mayurasana and am thrilled with even the tiniest improvement. (seriously- after all those years of practice I can now occasionally kick up without using the wall and squeal with glee every time.) Again, it's possible that if I put as much time into music as I put into yoga, well, we'll probably never know.

It's like being in the middle of writing a novel or short story. You wouldn't bring music into the plot at the beginning if you weren't going to come back to it some day... would you?

-morphizing

2011-07-06T12:55:00.001-04:00

This post is dedicated to my friend Q who noticed I hadn't posted since February. You can't put anything past her.

A few days back I referred to an animal as "someone" in conversation. The fellow I was talking to called me out for anthropomorphizing. It got me thinking; why is it I refuse to refer to animals as "it?"

My partner recently took issue with my attributing feelings to a dog. I immediately launched into a lecture about how all mammals have feelings- it's a characteristic of being a mammal because since mammals need to nurture their young after birth, they need to be attached to them. (Wikipedia says: "Emotions arise in the mammalian brain, or the limbic system, which human beings share in common with other mammals as well as many other species".) Okay, I oversimplified to make a point, but nevertheless...

...here's my point. The word anthropomorphizing refers to "attribution of human characteristics (or characteristics assumed to belong only to humans) to non-human animals." I believe it is over used. Just because we do something (like feel pain) doesn't mean that non-human animals don't. I mean, don't I have more in common with my dog than I do with a rock? Why should I assume that every living being who is not a human is some kind of sophisticated robot- responding without thinking or feeling to stimulae?

Okay, when I accuse my dog of holding a grudge when I take her to the vet- that is anthropomorphizing. I am projecting my own way of thinking and being onto someone whose brain and lived experience are substantially different than my own. (Here's a link to an awesome Radiolab that helps keep us anthropomorphizers honest).

But I believe there is an even bigger and more dangerous error- that of assuming that only humans can think and feel and want and share. There needs to be a word for this as well. It-morphize? Thing-morphize? which could mean "attribution of non-living characteristics (or characteristics assumed to belong only to objects) to non-human animals."

Redemption

2011-02-18T12:06:00.000-05:00

To tell you this story I have to explain that I'm a big fan of the Philadelphia Eagles. For those of you who follow the NFL, you already know that this year our quarterback was a man who served 2 years in prison for running a dog fighting ring. That’s right, our quarterback was a felon who joined our roster fresh out of prison. This troubled me.

Now anyone who is following this blog knows that I am crazy about our 2 dogs Trey and Sandy: they were both adopted from rescue organizations we were proud to support. I have preached on occasion about the ethics of how we treat the other animals with whom we share this world. My son recently convinced his Sunday school class to do a fund raiser for the local animal shelter (hence the bags of dog and cat food stacked up in the social hall). I thought maybe I would have to give up being an Eagles fan for a season or two.

I won't even go into my heartbreak when we traded McNabb to one of our divisional rivals. He was replaced by a guy called Kevin Kolb who I was really having trouble getting excited about. Then when Kolb was injured, enter the animal-abusing felon. But as Michael Vick took the field, damned if those football commentators didn’t preach to the minister. They wondered if he had “paid his debit to society” if he had been “reformed.” And I started to think about words like “redemption” and “forgiveness.” It made me ask myself – do I really believe in redemption? I remembered back to my seminary days that I did. But was what I learned in school what I really believed in my heart?

I've preached on prison reform, arguing that prison should be more focused on rehabilitation than retribution. Do we believe it is possible to pay off a debit to society after one has committed a crime? Can a person really atone for the things we have done wrong? Vick didn’t just make one mistake, he was deep in a lifestyle that was, let's say, not respectful of the interdependant web of life of which we are a part. Can we be restored to right relationship even if we have lived a life filled with misdeeds?

I’m a realist about this, and I know nationally men have a %53 recidivism rate after a prison sentence. The friend who lets you down once is liable to let you down again. Consequently I hold the position “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Changing one’s life is difficult. But if we didn’t believe it was possible to turn a corner, how could we hope? How could we go on? Maybe only 47 in 100 can be brought back when they have strayed, but I cannot give up on the one who might be brought back, and the Christian Scriptures back me up on this:

“What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off. In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should perish.” (Matthew 18:12-14)

So it's not just because I'm a bleeding heart UU, it's in the BIBLE people! (Check out the parable of the lost coin (Luke 15:8-10) and the Prodigal Son while you are at it.)

As we headed into the playoffs, the sports shows were engaged deeply in the question of whether Vick had been reformed, or whether he would go back to his old friends and old lifestyle. I was so surprised to hear the commentators and call in shows wrestle with issues of reform and redemption. (That one guy on ESPN radio should seriously consider becoming a preacher.) I had asked myself so many times "what was Andy (our coach) thinking!" but as the season wore on I was reminded that his own son had been in trouble with the law, of how important it would be for a young man looking to change his life to have a reliable steady father figure there to help him do it, and of how maybe Andy himself wanted some redemption in that role. It turns out the well respected former coach of the Colts, Tony Dungy not only visited Vick in prison to support his re-entry into life outside and back into the NFL, but that prison ministry is his thing these days.

Now that football season is over, I have been thinking about Michael Vick not as a talented running quarterback, but as a person. I hope that he really has reformed, not only for his own sake, but as a role model for all those in our country who have lost their way, for all those millions in our prison system, and all the rest of us ordinary folks and our daily mistakes, it would mean so much for us to see unfold before us the story of a modern-day prodigal son. My prayers are with him, and with all those who long to be redeemed.

Happy Brigit (or Imbolc - your call)

2011-02-02T13:19:00.002-05:00

I have to confess that of all the solar holidays, I am the biggest slacker at observing this one. Maybe because this cross-quarter is so very, well, in-between. Now when I lived in California, there was always the chance that the fruit trees would start thinking about flowers around this time (It usually ended badly for them if they did though; false spring can be deadly when followed by a late frost). Here in New York, however, we've just had the biggest snow drop of the year so far. Beginning of spring? Hardly. I know that a primary image for Brigit is the well, but our waters here are pretty much frozen solid, and flow mainly down the icicles hanging from our neighbors houses.

So when we look at it from a purely natural-world perspective in the North East, Imbolc is not about spring at all. It is right in the middle of winter. It is around the time when folks START saying "enough with the cold and grey" but quite some time before crocuses and cherry blossoms. Winter stores of root vegetables are getting old, and most of last fall's apples are spotty and nasty by now. There's no planting of seeds in this frozen ground. So all we're left with is the seed catalogue- time to start planning and preparing because sometime, some day the ground will thaw.

It's time for candles, for soup, for baking things in the oven, but how is that different from the winter solstice? Is it just that extra hour of sunlight each day? The glimmer of hope that winter is more behind us than in front of us? How will I celebrate this most in-between of holidays? Bake a loaf of bread, light a candle, and crawl back in my hole for 6 more weeks of winter.

Blame it on the birds

2011-02-02T11:57:00.000-05:00

I was watching this "report" on Daily Show the other night. I was, naturally, disturbed that once again the history of racism in our country and the injustices of the way emancipation happened. As Dr. Martin Luther King wrote in his book Where do we Go from Here: “Four million newly liberated slaves found themselves with no bread to eat, no land to cultivate, no shelter to cover their heads. It was like freeing a man who had been unjustly imprisoned for years, and on discover his innocence sending him out with no bus fare to get home, no suit to cover his body, no financial compensation…to help him get a sound footing in society.”

The report reminds us not only of the original injustice, but how we continue to undervalue African-American history, and to under-support African-American Communities. But knowing what an eco-geek I am you probably know where I'm going with this. This video ends up making the Audubon Society look like the foolish ones. I mean, when folks were dying in Katrina, they were building bird houses, right? It must be they care more about birds than about people! (Because goodness knows people in no way benefit from the presence of birds, and when all the birds disappear we'll just spray more pesticide on everything to deal with the swell of the insect population that will grow un-checked without natural predators...) Let's not blame the industries that dumped industrial waste and agent orange in that neighborhood. Lets not blame the officials for taking land through eminent domain or the long list of agencies that did nothing, let's not blame the folks who sat on their couches and clicked their tongues, let's blame an organization whose mission statement is: " to conserve and restore natural ecosystems, focusing on birds, other wildlife, and their habitats for the benefit of humanity and the Earth's biological diversity" for working to preserve an area when the NAACP and State and Local governments declined to help.

There is an idea out there that we have to choose between saving birds and saving people. There is a concern that we have to choose between ending racism and preserving habitat. That is the premise of this genuinely well-written and often hilarious report. But to me the real story is that in this case, as in many others, preserving habitat for humans and for birds can be woven together. Creating healthy eco-systems and creating a just human community can be one and the same movement. As a society we must somehow get beyond this taboo that says that when humans are suffering or struggling it is improper, indecent even to consider the eco-system as a whole. As activist Derrick Evans remarks "thank God for the birds."

Environmental Impact

2011-02-01T10:22:00.001-05:00

Recently the television news has been all a-flurry over snowstorms in our region, and how various municipalities have prepared. Last night the mayor of a city effected by the impending storm showed us how prepared he was by enumerating all the trucks ready to go, all the salt ready to spread. I'm sure most folks felt better after the report. I, being the eco-geek that I am, was thinking about the salt. I mean, in the bible when you want to destroy a people utterly you burn their buildings and salt their fields. Let's take Judges 9:45 for example "And Abimelech fought against the city all that day. He captured the city and killed the people who were in it, and he razed the city and sowed it with salt."

It makes me wonder- have we really thought about the effects of salt on our cities and fields? It seems to me like the attitude "if some salt is safe, more salt is safer" has become quite prevalent. But can we really use salt on our streets year after year with impunity? And why is nobody talking about this on the news- couldn't we use a lively debate on the topic? What would happen if we asked our reporters to include an environmental impact statement in each news story: "Use of salt on roadways tends to increase salt in local drinking wells and has an often deleterious impact on roadside plants. The carbon footprint of the snow plows will be roughly..." I know, I know - it will never happen. A girl can dream though.

Pet Peeves

2011-01-20T21:09:00.001-05:00

Apropos of nothing, here are 2 of my pet peeves:

1) People (scholars even) who talk about "primitive people" who invented the winter solstice celebration because they didn't have science so they believed that the sun might not ever come back. *PBBBBBBBBLT* to you I say. Anyone who lives to be 12 years old knows the winter is dark and summer is light, and once you've figured out how to count, you know it comes round again in about the same number of days. [muttering - Literalists!-mutter mutter] But I'm "modern" and every dang year around this time I turn inward and lose my will to, well, leave the house. I feel that joyful exuberant summer energy has left my life, and I fear that it will never return. I forget altogether that I'm going to feel much better when the sun gets up before I do and the trees have those cute little spring leaves on them. Even I- who have the internet- need reminding that this too will pass. Winter Solstice celebrations are wisly held now as they were thousands of years ago. Harrumph!

2) People who say "Teenagers want to be different, but have you noticed they all dress a like?"
And to you I say - do you know what this society does to people who dress completely uniquely? We ostracize them and send them to mental health. It's hard enough to be one of 7 teens in your school who dress within a different mores than your peers, but to be the only one? Criminy. I believe that even in Berkeley it's hard to be the one adult who rides around town on a unicycle wearing a pink hooded unitard. Have you forgotten entirely how hard it is to be a teenager as it is? Double Harrumph!

Thanks for listening.

A Balanced Spirit

2010-12-27T13:20:00.001-05:00

Last year some lay leaders of the church started to worry about burn out. There was also a feeling by some folks that we had fallen out of balance in our ratio of sermons and projects devoted to Justice, and those devoted to the spirit. Personally, I have been in a phase of my own spiritual path where just work and spiritual work were one and the same, but I recognize that everyone is at a different place on their journey. Everyone has their blind spots, so ministers rely on their trusted advisers to help keep balance in the ministry. I tried to imagine how this year I could bring more spirit into our community, with an emphasis on renewal for those folks who were at the edge of burn out.

In conversation with the Worship Team, we decided that on Sundays when the children and teens are not in the service, we would use the time usually reserved for a story for quiet meditation. The Board decided to be conscious about including not just a chalice lighting and reading at the beginning of each meeting, but a 10-15 minute spiritual practice that reflected the spiritual life of that day's leader. I decided to focus a handful of sermons over the course of the year on renewal- starting with an early fall sermon about how Unitarian Universalists can observe a sabbath. I also decided that our Adult RE offerings would focus more on heart and spirit than on mind and hands; Dream Work in the fall, and Evensong in the winter.

I forgot that this plan, if it was truly an effective one, would change me, not only my flock. First of all, it has been so delightful to have a place to bring my dreams after a number of years without a dream group. My dream journal went from about 1 entry a month, to a couple every week. The folks who came for the dream group are incredibly intuitive and insightful, and the whole process has been lovely. I have also had to dust off my favorite meditation manuals, and share some basic Buddhist meditation practices with the congregation in worship.

A few weeks back I was feeling kind of discontent- like my persona was out of sync with who I really wanted to be. In a fit of inspiration between washing the dinner dishes and putting my son to bed, I removed all the little objects that had accumulated on my altar, dusted the whole thing and started from scratch. I found myself thinking about those objects and colors over the next few days as my mind wandered, making changes until it was balanced and somehow reflected some freshness I wanted in my life. That same week I lead a workshop with our worship team on "Leading Meditation in Worship", and realized afterward how long it had been since I had meditation with anyone except my yoga class. By the time I arrived at the Dream Work class on Thursday, I could see a trend -- the feeling-tone of my inner life was changing. There was a freshness, a curiosity there which I hadn't even known was lacking.

Of course we are still holding public forms about how hydro-fracking will effect our local economy and eco-systems, and are in the middle of a holiday food drive for the local food pantry, but our focus on renewal brings a different tone to our work togehter. How incredibly blessed I am to serve a congregation that notices when we are out of balance, and believes in the value of restoring that balance.

Having and Aquiring

2010-12-17T16:48:00.000-05:00

Last week I preached about mindfulness during the holiday season. I used shopping as a primary example of how our "wanting" knocks us off our center, and posited that the way to end the stress of wanting is not through finally "having it all" but through mindfunless and returning ourselves to the present moment. (We've been thinking a lot about Buddhism lately, in case that wasn't obvious).

One of the wise folks in the congregation noted, during the talk-back time, that perhaps there is a difference between acquiring and having. She suggested that our society is better at acquiring than at having. In response I voiced the ethic we hear time and time attributed to indigenous peoples- using every part of hte buffalo or deer or any animal killed in the hunt is a sign of respect to the animal. Here in this time and place when we go hunting it is for inanimate objects like smartphones and sweaters, and we have abandoned this ethic completely .

It wasn't until I got in the car for the drive home that I realized what wonderful food for thought she had offered. As the great Ben Franklin said "Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without." I don't know about you, but I have more stuff that I can use. Seriously. I mean, how many of us have more books than we will ever read? I know all you knitters out there have a stash that will most likely be passed on to your grand children. More importantly, when I clean out my closet for the season and pass on the clothes I am "done with" what percentage do you think are actual "worn out?" Part of the reason that jeans with pre-fab rips and faded splotches are in style right now is that no one keeps their pants until they are ripped and torn. Maybe it is all about the thrill of the hunt, acquiring new things more than really using and appreciating the things we have. There's always the option of becoming renunciates, but if we are going to stay in the world, we are going to have stuff. What would it be like to really have it, instead of just acquiring it?

Overwintering

2010-12-03T10:05:00.000-05:00

When I first moved to California, I was amazed to realize that the 12 foot tall tree in my friend's front yard was fuchsia. If you've lived in the North East, you know that Fuchsia is a hanging plant for porches in summer time. In California, they outgrow their pots and live to a glorious and ripe old age. They became a favorite plant of mine, and when the landscaper accidentally chopped one down while clearing out scrub I was sad for years.

So this summer when I saw a sweet little Fuchsia in a 4" pot at the nursery, I just couldn't resist. I had to learn for myself whether they could overwinter if taken indoors. I missed that first frost, though, and though I took it in the next day, its few leaves started to fall off one by one. I had hope though- I remember one Fuchsia in my California Garden had been trampled flat during an outdoor party, but somehow made a full recovery. Sure enough, my Ithaca Fuchsia is sprouting new leaves. I don't know if it will be enough to make it through the winter until it can face the out of doors again, but I had to try.

Wealth n stuff

2010-12-02T10:24:00.000-05:00

This is what it's like to be an american:

In this country I know I am solidly middle class. Not a lot of money for luxuries, but a roof over our heads and food to in the refrigerator. Some days I feel really deprived not to be able to afford all the things I see on TV... I mean, we can't even afford smart phones!

Then I remember that 1 in 5 people in the world do not even have access to a pit latrine.

Seriously.

I guess that makes me rich. It's just hard to remember sometimes.

That's what it's like to be an American.

Voice

2010-10-18T15:16:00.001-04:00

A friend of mine teaches theater and English to High School kids. She was describing one fall how she began the year explaining to her students through various exercises and literature that each person has a unique voice, and encouraging her students to find their own voice. I hope her students are quicker than me, because I've been pondering that one for a full 4 years now.

I didn't realize I had any particular voice when I preach until I noticed it started to change. I was looking at an old sermon from a few years back and remembered how erudite I used to sound. Over the past few years, however, my focus has changed from trying to sound learned and polished to just helping the good folks stay awake on a Sunday morning. I went from trying to sound like a minister to sounding more like a conversation over coffee in the social hall. Come to think of it, my coffee hour voice has changed too since those first awkward days of my internship: it's a lot more relaxed and, frankly, sometimes downright goofy. So as near as I can tell, finding your voice is some combination of using the hardwear and software that nature and nurture provided, and letting some of your Self leak through the editing mind which protects us all from the worst of bad jokes and rambles.

But, in the words of the immortal Bill Cosby, I told you that story so I could tell you this one. About 2 years ago now I bought myself a mandolin. It had been almost 20 years since I dropped out of music school, and I wanted to see what would happen if I tried to make music again. A singer is so much more independent and useful if she can accompany herself; but sadly the barrier was not simply the mechanical learning curve of training muscles to play a new instrument, but one of voice. It seems the same technique that makes "Quando m'en vo" sound lovely is just plain awkward when put to the task of singing "High Shelf Booze " So here I am, starting from scratch, finding my voice all over again.

Prophets

2010-10-16T21:48:00.000-04:00

1976 Wendell Berry writes "The Unsettling of America ." I was obliviously enjoying Elementary School.
1986 Those Farm Aid concerts let us troubled teens know that we must save the family farm.
2010 The "Locovor" movement is sweeping the nation. Organic food has made it all the way to Walmart. America is starting to understand that this movement is not about saving a few family farms, but is about protecting everyone: our health, our land, our environment

Wendell Berry saw it all in 1976.

That sinking feeling

2010-09-18T23:47:00.003-04:00

Last week I was driving through Ithaca and I have to confess that I was talking on my cell phone. As I pulled onto Estey I saw the police officer, and I saw him see me. I hung up immediately, but as I sat at the red light, I watched the patrol car make a leisurely u-turn as he pulled up behind me with his lights flashing. There were times in my life where I would have been furious about that traffic ticket, but now it has a different effect on me. First, I was really glad that I was going the speed limit and had made a full stop at the light. Second I though “I am getting this ticket because I broke the law. And it is a law because it has to do with my safety and the safety of my community.”

And why was I assiduously going the speed limit? Because last year I was pulled over for not slowing down to 30 as I passed through the town of Van Etten. But you know what? Even if I drive exactly the speed limit, stop completely at every stop sign and never talk while driving again, I will still feel that little guilty jolt in my stomach every time I see a patrol car behind me. Why? Because I know I'm not perfect, and when I see those lights in my rear view mirror, some inner part of me does a quick moral inventory. It's like my own conscience is driving that patrol car,combined with some basic distrust of authority. And when the officer walks up alongside my driver side door, I wait for the verdict. "Do you know why I stopped you?" I run through possible traffic mistakes from the last half hour, gaps in vehicle maintenance (is that tail light out again?!) political party affiliations, failings as a mom. None of us will ever be perfect, that’s just part of being human. But I sure do pull over now when the phone rings.

Star Island

2010-09-01T13:40:00.003-04:00

This summer my son and I took advantage of a clergy scholarship to visit Star Island. We had a few very stormy days which were discouraging, but quite impressive as the winds were so strong we could barely walk upright in certain places on the island. The hotel is over 100 years old, and I think they used every waste basket to catch rain drops that leaked through the ancient roof. There was yoga every day (VERY gentle) and on the day of the worst storm the swinging doors would swing open and closed with every gust of wind, and the back row got rained on about half way through class.

The sunny days were remarkably beautiful. I even got up the courage to go "Polar Bear" with the crew that meets out at the dock at 7:00 am. I was just so happy it wasn't raining I didn't care how cold the water was (and it was COLD).

Change

2010-05-11T11:37:00.003-04:00

"Those people are just afraid of change" he said.

Sometimes I wonder if change has become it's own virtue. WE hear all the time the analogy of shark must swim or it dies.

But what about the brooding hen... If it moves the chicks will die? What about the hibernating bear?

Right now our culture is at incredibly fast rate of change, sometimes the change happens so quickly our culture, our capacity for wisdom can't keep up. Maybe sometimes slow gradual change is best. Maybe sometimes conservation of the traditional, the biological is appropriate. Change is not an absolute virtue.

The universe does not only expand away from itself, there is also gravity. If the 2 forces did not work in complementary opposition then the whole universe would have blown apart in its first moments. It was the slowing and cooling that allowed worlds to form.

Maybe being cautions about change is not a character flaw.

Unruly verdure

2010-05-03T11:18:00.009-04:00

This spring my garden has finally grown into what it was meant to be- an unruly mess of green. There are maybe 4 plants back there that i bought at a nursery, all the rest have lived here longer than I have or planted themselves.

I am told a previous resident was quite a gardener, her tiny property bursting with flowers and life every year. But the next owner bought the house to "flip" and when they were doing much-needed renovations and updates, they also laid that black landscape fabric EVERYWHERE with a couple of shrubs poking through. That first spring in this house I was heartened to see tulips, columbines, snowdrops and crocuses peaking their determined heads up along the edges of the fabric. I relocated them from any weird corner of the yard that the landscaper missed and from what would later become the veggie patch. By this 3rd spring, my semi-tidy geometric patterns of tulips and other bulbs have grown into more organic shapes, and Columbines and Sweet Woodruff travel where they please. The Salomon's Seal has filled in the shaded areas so heartily I had to dig some up and give it to a friend yesterday lest it overwhelm the landscaper's azaleas, and the low growing woodland natives I got on my first visit to the native plant nursery that first spring. Those large patches of empty mulch that made up so much of my garden when we first moved in are now completely over-run with green flowering life. Occasionally I go out to "tidy things up" but with the exception of a few errant maple seedlings, all the occupants have received my express invitation. I wondered this morning if I should try to separate the tulips and the columbine a little bit, just to make things look more orderly, but as I've learned the hard way, a plant that is moved during the growing season will most likely stop flowering, and some will just give up on greenery altogether and spend all its energy on its roots.

No, everyone in the garden is riotously happy, and making themselves right to home. As long as they don't start bullying the little guys, they are welcome to party all summer right where they are.

What local is

2010-04-12T15:59:00.003-04:00

While we were in California we did a lot of grocery shopping- a couple of conventional groceries, some high end groceries, and 2 green groceries. I had decided to try to buy things that were local to California, partly to remind myself of the differences in growing seasons. I had forgotten that lemons grow in your backyard, and Strawberry season is in full swing by April, that in fact most of the strawberries at my Ithaca grocery store are shipped there from California.

So as I tried to remember what "local" was in the bay area, I noticed that the conventional stores had only minimal information, and you had to go hunting for it. One green grocery had the state or country posted on a sign near each kind of produce (Rhubarb from Mexico, eh? There went my plans for Strawberry Rhubarb Pie) I did pretty well rounding up California produce for our next meals (it is America's breadbasket after all)

Then we went to a store that listed the number of miles each fruit or veggie traveled to get to the store. That was when I realized that "California grown" food could come from 300 miles away! I managed to find a few things that were grown only 100 miles away, but the selection was much reduced. I began to remember that our CSA when we lived in the bay area was about that far from our home in Berkeley. I remembered that the only farm in Alameda county is some kind of historical agriculture preserve run by the parks department or something.

I try to shop local when I'm at home in Ithaca too. Both of my grocery stores have a little "local" sign they put on some produce, and when I can't find that I look for some shout-out to the fingerlakes region or New York State when possible. But often "local" means ithaca and its surrounds. The farm where I have my CSA is about 3 miles from my house, and we pass other farms on a drive of 10 miles in any direction. Local seems to be more... well... local where I live now.

But now I'm home and Strawberries won't be growing here for another month or so. And sadly, it is never lemon season in Ithaca.

The Last Night

2010-04-11T15:19:00.004-04:00

Being that it was our last night in California, we gathered one last time for dunner. We bustled from kitchen to studio: making dinner together and "bouncing down" the tracks from Thursday's jam. When all was ready we opened that totally righteous bottle of wine our friend gave us, and tried to feel the happiness of being together more than the sadness of parting. We knew we had to catch a 6:15 am flight, and a good friend had left that very day for her new home in Southern California.

Our son challenged all comers to a duel on Wii Fencing, and defeated them all soundly. Suddenly it was 11:00 and, anticipating our 4:30 am airport shuttle, the party came to an abrupt end. We never did make those lemons into lemonade, see the house where our son was born or make that pilgrimage to Willow Glen Yoga.

The next day we were stupid after a night of too little and too restless sleep. The taxi came to the wrong address, the bags were over their weight limit, and apparently the inferior Chocolate Croissant we got for Wuggie at the airport just before boarding was for him the last straw. (I didn't think it was possible to make a bad chocolate croissant, but Wuggie sure was disappointed with this one.) In desperation we paid the fee for in-air satellite television, and watched "World's Strictest Parents" and "Top Chef" marathons the whole way home. (Except Wuggie, who prefers the GPS channel).

Thankfully, Adventure Gramma met us at the airport and whisked us home to what had become a happy pack of cats and dogs while we were gone. Underdog had lost all fear and apparently had as much fun on his vacation as we had on ours. We kept our eyes open long enough to eat dinner and then faded fast.

The next morning we battled jet-lag and Gramma took us on a short walk to a historic coffee shop complete with waitress/cook in Revolutionary era garb. (Gramma is a total hero, by the way, for watching our dogs for 12 days, providing airport shuttle and historic breakfast outing).

We loaded the car four our 5 hour drive home. Home. It was a beautiful sunny day, and the tulips waited for us. Spring has just begun.

Last Day

2010-04-08T21:46:00.009-04:00

Tuesday, in honor of our last day in California, we took Cal Train and the BART over to Berkeley. (It was a fun adventure for our son Wuggie, and pretty chill to ride with coffee and a book, but took nearly 2 hours. I can't believe we have friends who do this every day!)

Our son had been promised a Slurpee, and my partner wanted to visit Amoeba (how many hours we spent back in the day flipping through the used CD bins. Sigh.) Our brunch spot, La Note, was right near a favorite foraging ground of mine, Pegasus Books, where I had often serendipitously found a favorite author's most recent books in perfect condition. My luck had held up over 3 intervening years- brand new hardbound Octavia Butler and P.K. Dick for $5 each- even worth schlepping in my backpack the rest of the day.

From there we walked to get Wuggie a Slurpee (which we consumed on a bus-stop bench where I learned that Berkeley has curbside pick up of kitchen scraps, and that there is an iphone app to find out which bus is coming when). Amoeba also did not disappoint- ah the thrill of finding old and new favorites in the dusty used bins. We even found a They Might be Giants b-sides CD for Wuggie Norple.

We walked up and down the length of Telegraph Avenue, (what a sunny, temperate, perfect day for a walk) then back to the Berkeley Bart with a short layover at Jupiter for a Cider, a hefeweizen and a Lemonade and it was time for the return commute.

Spring

2010-04-05T18:21:00.007-04:00

After a couple of idyllic days in Marin, we loaded up the car and headed back down the peninsula for the Easter Party. Ham, egg hunting, lemon picking, wine drinking and tons of old friends. Somehow the hay bales out by the grill were transformed into a princess palace that enticed little and not-so-little kids alike out into the rainy California afternoon. A lovely party. We fell into bed exhausted and satisfied.

This morning we cleaned a little, did a little yoga, walked the dogs in the much welcome sun.

Now we are packing up the van for the A's home opener. Plenty of ham and beer left for tail-gating tonight.

Amazing things

2010-04-04T03:13:00.012-04:00

Today our son suggested a photo competition during our walk in Roy's Redwood Grove- each of us was to take 3 photos of "Amazing things" which we would share, vote on, and award prizes upon our return home. The sun had finally come out; the day, the redwoods, and the wildflowers were lovely and many photos of amazing things were taken while the dogs zoomed at blurry lightening speeds up hills and across meadows.

After yet another scrumptious group-cooked meal, the slideshow and judging commenced.

Here were a few of my personal favorites.

Laying Low

2010-04-02T17:33:00.003-04:00

After a day of nonstop music for the band and sushi and mini-golf for me and the boy, it was time for a slow day.

I was the last one up this morning, I think there were friends sleeping on every surface that was not already covered with instruments or cables. We ate a leisurely breakfast and packed up the drums and cables, laundry and Pokemon magazines while the Woodstock documentary played in the background. I think we're headed north today across the golden Gate bridge for a night of grilling and laying low. Tomorrow I am determined to hug me a Redwood Tree.

This is happening

2010-04-01T16:17:00.003-04:00

After dropping the boy off at his friends, walking the dogs, 4 hours of laying cables and soundchecking the drums, I think the band is finally ready to play...

Oh wait, no they are going to check the drum levels one more time...

California, Coming Home.

2010-03-31T18:02:00.005-04:00

"...It's too old and cold and settled in it's ways here
Oh, but California
California I'm coming home
I'm going to see the folks I dig
I'll even kiss a Sunset pig
California I'm coming home"

After preaching on Sunday we loaded up the family, the dogs and 3 suitcases and headed off on our great adventure. First to my Mom's house in Delaware to rest, reconnect, and ultimately to leave our 2 dogs in trustworthy hands (that totals 3 dogs and 2 cats at Chez Mom for the next week or so. I think they are forming a pack).

Flight out Monday dinner time included a near miss with our connecting flight in Denver (SO glad we did not have to spend the night on the airport floor) Our son decided over airport cheese-steaks that he would make an album to take back to his 3rd grade class for an "emergency share" after spring break. We immediately began taking pictures of all airport mundainity.

Arrived late Monday night- it's such a gift to be picked up at the airport after a long day of traveling. So good to be in a comfy home with old friends. Immediately the comparisons began- some things so familiar, some so strange. I know this seems odd, but the thing that seemed most strange was the flowering plants. The progression of blooms in Upstate New York is so slow and methodical- first the bulbs (crocuses and tulips) then the flowering trees, then the day lilies and Irises of high summer. Yet on my late-March walk through a San Carlos neighborhood I saw flowering cherries, tulips and Day Lilies all in full bloom. The two ecosystems are like apples and oranges. Speaking of which- lemon trees sagging under the weight of their fruit. Lemons- seasonal local winter produce in CA. I forgot.

The long drives from friend to friend to yoga to "remember that little Vietnamese lunch place?" have the sensation of driving backwards in time. So many hours and years I spent on these roads, they are like old friends and strangers. The traffic I thought I remembered. What I forgot was that it takes at least 20 minutes to go ANYWHERE. Just when I was getting cranky about my 3-times-a-week 50 minute commute, I forgot that it used to take me 20 minutes just to get to yoga, 20 to get to my son's preschool and 25 in the other direction to get to work. Friends were further- 45, 50, 60 minutes to commute to friends. It sure makes my 6 minute walk to yoga back home seem precious, and my downtown neighborhood seem downright sleepy.

Okay, but I'm not here to do cultural analysis, I'm here to see friends. These are very very precious. Everyone has been so generous with their time and opening their homes to us. It is mostly joyful, but even though we have a full week left to our stay, there is a poignancy that underlays certain moments. But mostly the ease and gratitude of being with friends who know us in a steady, easy, comfortable (or as our son would say "comforting") way.

When you meet the Buddha in the Road...

2010-01-19T10:58:00.003-05:00

About 8 years ago I brought this Buddha candle to a gift-swap with my minister's group. About 7 years ago I scored this Buddha candle in the same gift-swap (my colleague had brought it back, wrapped with a pretty bow and barely stifling a grin)

I decided the big 4-0 was as good a time as any to burn it.

I remember the first time I saw a Buddha candle burning; it was at a fellow seminarian's house-party before I had really studied much Buddhism. I was so surprised to see a sacred image burning that I must have said something out loud. My host replied "oh, I think you have to burn a Buddha candle."

So I found myself this past weekend surrounded by friends burning the Buddha. One seemed surprised by this seemingly sacrilegious act, so I tried to explain about the doctrine of impermanence, about the sand mandala ritual (which lead to much reminiscing about the time we watched Tibetan monks destroy the sand mandala they had been building for days during the Tibetan Freedom Concert while "Rage Against the Machine" played barely audible beyond the chanting of the monks- hey it was my birthday I'm allowed a little nostalgia.) My partner and I both tried to explain the Buddhist Koan "If you meet he Buddha on the road, kill him" before finally resuming the non-theological aspects of the party.

In a whole night of festivities, we got only as far as the eyes. I find this hopeful; life impermanent in nature, but it's often a slow burn.

Wealth

2010-01-07T11:14:00.003-05:00

We've all been worried about money. I'm guessing just about everyone in the country has had to cut back, or at least has lost some sleep worrying about job security or retirement plans. Goodness knows if you've got any credit-card debit right now all those lenders are putting the screws to already tenuous households. It's the worst recession in 40 years they say.

Last night a member of my congregation told us of the time during the great depression that his father was out of work for many months. They had no money for heat or money for food, so they rigged up the coal stove so that they could use the little coal they had for warmth and for cooking. Once a day the family had a bowl of rice with a little curry powder as weeks went by without work.

Suddenly everything popped into perspective for me. The house is warm, there is food in the refrigerator. There were presents under the tree at Christmas. I am wealthy beyond all reason.

Someday

2010-01-04T16:10:00.004-05:00

"And I'm going to be 40!"
"when?"
"[sob] Someday!"

In 1989 "When Harry Met Sally" came out, and I thought this was hilarious. Well Someday is close at hand. In just over a week I'll be 40 for real. It feels okay so far... ever since I was a kid I've felt like I was middle-aged at heart, so I guess I'm hitting my prime. Throughout my 20s I worried that mid-life would be boring, but somehow I don't mind cleaning, because it's my very own home. I don't mind staying in on Friday night, because I like just hanging out at home (our cozy hobbit-hole that we love) with my husband and son. And I don't mind spending so much of my life working because I love my job and felt such a strong calling to ministry that I spent 4 years in grad school and am still paying on the student loans. I chose this life, I worked hard for this life, and happily I spend enough time in my 20s and 30s dancing around burning sculpture in the Black Rock Playa or tangled in some kind of little yoga knot that I'm ready for something hew. Sure I miss the days of the Cyber Ball, sure it takes me longer to get into and out of some asanas, and my days of the bikini are gone for good, but I think I'm ready as I'll ever be for 40.

At any rate, I sure am going to take advantage of this great excuse to party.

gifts

2009-12-28T12:27:00.008-05:00

My son picked out 2 new toys to give our dogs this Christmas. I pondered and cogitated around this- I mean, they already have plenty of toys, would they even notice 2 more? Can we justify this in our wasteful consumer-driven society... and in a recession no less?

Dog is interested only in the chicken-jerky Santa put in her stocking, but UnderDog has carried at least one of his new toys with him everywhere since Christmas Day. I guess we all like new toys.

As my son says "Christmas has 3 parts- giving, receiving and loving." He's so smart.

Aquiring

2009-12-12T11:59:00.002-05:00

Here's why I try to avoid shopping... It changes how I see the world. On-line or at the mall, it doesn't matter. I spent hours flipping between websites to find snowpants in my son's size this week. (when I should have been working on my sermon) After much agonizing I finally came to a decision, but still couldn't stop obsessing- wasn't that shipping charge a little high? What if I had gone to.... Later that night I went into a department store for gloves to replace the ones my son outgrew, and came out 40 minutes later with my arms full. Including another pair of snowpants "just in case." I had a 15% off coupon, what could I do? Now the funny thing is while I was shopping I felt like I was being very moderate and wise. As soon as I got home, though, I knew the truth. I did not "need" another sweater in the same color as that other sweater I never wear, and these snowpants are not the right shape for my son- that's why I had to order them online. So the next day I headed back and returned most of it. Hours later a 30% off coupon came in the mail, and a notice that shipping is now free at the website where I had ordered the snowpants just the day before.

It's like some kind of hunter-gatherer instinct is turned on and I can't flip it off. I was in yoga this morning and the woman next to me had on this great green top. "Green" I thought "Why don't I have anything in that shade of green?" Some part of me now thinks I have some kind of green shopping emergency. I mean, it's a miracle I made it through the winter last year without a sweater in that particularly awesome shade of green, am I right? Sigh. The other part of me, the grown-up part that goes to rallys to protest dangers to our environment and practices meditation and yoga seems to have been shoved out of the way in a violent dash for "free shipping on all hand-made sustainably-harvested wooden toys" sale.

If ever we needed a reminder of the wisdom of the Buddhas 2nd noble truth-- that craving, wanting, thirsting causes suffering-- this is it. The marketing folks in our culture seem to have direct access to the "on button" of my craving for stuff. (I mean, I'm all done shopping, but %30 off is a really good coupon!) The more I shop, the more I want. The more I feel incomplete and am my mind is filled with this nonsense.

I still have to brave the craft store and the artist's co-op before I'm done my holiday shopping. We will see if I can complete my mission without discovering 20 new things I MUST have immediately. I can't wait until yoga class helps me remember to think about my toes and not whether I have enough "smartwool" socks to get through the winter. I will be so relieved to be past the holiday shopping madness -- to somehow restore my inner balance and remember that we already have everything we need to live a full and satisfying life.

Grounding

2009-11-27T12:20:00.003-05:00

As I walked in the front door after a week in Canada, the dogs greeted me with great enthusiasm in what my son dubbed "a hurricane of dogs." But it wasn't until I'd been home for 24 hours that Underdog jumped up next to me on the sofa and rested his head in my lap. It was another 2 days before we fell into that easy intimate companionship we had before I left. I had meetings almost every night, and as soon as I got home my partner, who had been single-dad for a week while I was gone, met me at the door with his coat on, eager to get out of the house and be an adult for an hour or two. Coming home, it seems, is a process that is not finished when you cross the threshold.

I've been thinking about the relationship between "coming home" and "grounding." I often felt ungrounded while I was traveling, and called it homesickness, but it did not abate entirely even when I was back in my own nest. Ironically, it wasn't until we packed up for another week-long trip (evening meetings, work, school and Thanksgiving Intergenerational worship service finally behind us) that I finally started to settle in. Now I'm at my mom's house, living out of a suitcase again, but my family is all around me and I don't feel homesick at all.

What makes us feel grounded or un-grounded? What makes us feel at home even when we are on the road?

Where Privilege meets Addiction

2009-11-12T15:10:00.003-05:00

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 [reposted]

2009-11-05T12:21:00.000-05:00

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.

2009-11-02T13:36:00.003-05:00

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

2009-10-19T11:13:00.002-04:00

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

2009-09-30T11:37:00.003-04:00

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

2009-09-28T11:01:00.006-04:00

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

2009-09-27T15:58:00.000-04:00

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.

Natural Gas

2009-09-22T12:03:00.000-04:00

Hydro-fracking is just beginning in the county where my church is located. I'm sure as those 40,000 forcast wells are drilled it will look just like this billboard I see on my commute. Makes you feel all warm and peaceful inside.

Back Around

2009-09-21T09:29:00.005-04:00

My son has been back at school for a week and a half now, and though I knew it was a big deal for him, I was surprised how much it has changed my daily flow (I mean, for the chauffeur it's not functionally different than getting him to and from camp, right?) and I can't believe how much I miss that extra hour of sleep in the morning.

The fall so far has been this an flurry of details and loose ends. I know from experience how important it is to get the church year started right, especially for the kids. The school year has a tremendous structuring force on the ebb and flow of family life, and we learned the hard way one church-school start-up that families generally formulate their routines by the end of the first week of school, and if church is not part of that rhythm, they might or might not try again next year. So this fall I've been really focused on helping my congregation make the changes parents were asking for, and doing it so that they would be visible and functional on this first Sunday of Religious Education. That is to say- a ton of details and scheduling and weaving in loose ends.

And this conference I'm working on as a volunteer seemed like a nice way to fill out my time last spring, but as the conference nears, the drive to get the loose ends tied up and make sure anyone who should know about it knows about it has added a layer of ends to tangle in the daily web. "You are a volunteer" I remind myself "there is a good staff working on this, and you need to have your primary focus on your paying job... I mean family. Crap." So last night I made "Death Star Popcorn Balls" with my son, and watched the Giants beat the Cowboys with my partner.

But the first week of Sundae School seems to have gone well- and there was an ice cream party afterward, which smooths over many rough spots. And all the speakers and presenters I brought in to the conference are confirmed and have their bios and photos on the website, and they are in someone else's hands now.

This Sunday will be my first full-length sermon of the year, so I tried to keep the week clean of too much flotsam so I could make sure it's a good one. As I sit at my computer wrapped in my comfy sweater with a now cooling cup of coffee blogging to ward off writer's block I feel like my old familiar life has finally come back around.

Slug Summer

2009-09-19T15:50:00.000-04:00

Everything I planted this summer got eaten by slugs. One day I planted a whole row of annuals and two days later they had been mowed to the ground. Gone without a trace.

Here are the Dahlia bulbs I planted to replace them, which at least seem to be growing faster than the slugs can eat.

It's been a rough year in the garden all around.

Water

2009-09-14T10:16:00.004-04:00

We spent as much time as we could on the water this summer, mostly in Lake Cayuga and its many creeks and inlets. Even as I sent out reminders to our congregation to collect a bit of water on their travels for our ingathering ritual, it was not until the last week of summer that my son and I took a special drive over to the lake, and after feeding the ducks all our stale bread, I got down on my knees and scooped a bit of water into a re purposed ice-tea bottle for the water communion.

Those of you who are Unitarian Universalist know well the ritual of each pouring our own water into the communal bowl. And each congregation makes a different choice about what to do with the intermingled water at the end of the service. I come most recently from a church that boils up a bowl-full of communal water and saves it for child dedications and other blessings. At my new church there is a grand procession to the garden and a watering of the flowers to complete the cycle. Yesterday I announced that if anyone wanted to take a bit of the communal water home in their container they could come forward and take it during the postlude and before the grand watering ceremony. I took my ice-tea bottle and scooped just enough for a naming ceremony or two. Afterward two separate members of my church took me aside to remind me how dangerous that water might be. They were right- there are all kind of toxins and pathogens that live in our water today. I promised I would boil it thoroughly.

It was an important reminder both that nature is both creator and destroyer- her energies and gifts sometimes nurture and sometimes harm. It was also a sad reminder how much of our water system has been polluted and is unsafe. I visualize a time when once again our children and grandchildren can swim in our lakes and oceans without worrying about what industries are upstream.

Monday Mourning

2009-07-27T09:41:00.002-04:00

After 10 days of friends and music and neglect of my e-life and daily routines, Monday finally came. The house is not too trashed and I'm almost caught up on my sleep, but as I emptied my son's backpack for camp today, or as I groped through my purse to find my sunglasses I find the bits and pieces of our adventures, now just matter out of place (moop). The card game we played at the Grass Roots Cabaret Hall, bits of shiny metal and rocks he found in our travels, a napkin from our picnic at Treman State Park, the berry lip-gloss I wore to see Hee Haw Nightmare. As I put away the guest pillows I realize that each object holds experience that also needs to be processed and sorted- like "Amazing how many people stood out in the the pouring rain listening to New Neighbors play while we hid in the safety of the backstage tent" and "Geeze those Flying Clouds are a hard working band" and "they are not seriously going to close the Lost Dog are they?" and "hey, I just got back in the groove with some of my oldest and dearest friends who I have been enjoying energetically for many days and how come my house is all empty and quiet-like all of a sudden."

I slipped in my new MakePeace Brothers CD on the drive home from dropping my son at Camp and felt a strange aching in my chestal region. Sigh. Where to start this Monday morning: the 500+ photos I took? The shiny bits of metal and smooth rocks? The new albums I still haven't listened to? Pining for my recently departed friends? The e-mail backlog? A comprehensive travel log? Perhaps a second cup of coffee.

General Assembly: Travel Log

2009-06-28T18:08:00.008-04:00

Day 1:
Things to avoid when flying:
Philadelphia airport
United
Changing airlines mid trip (flags you for TSA check)

Suitcase broken in transit
PDA MIA

Arrived at the Salt Lake City Raddison, dropped my stuff in the room, and though I knew the opening reception was long over I headed to the conference site to see a familiar face and say “I made it!”

Run into my local colleagues on my way in, and my long lost California colleagues on their way into the bar. Had a $10 glass of house wine and was so grateful to be among them again.

Day 2:
Sonia Sanchez was our keynote. I finally have a role model for my elder years. Connecting with one long lost friend after another. Weep regularly. End the day with a Minor League Baseball Game with 50ish other UU clergy. (See face book video). My partner calls to say that UnderDog was found after some significant hunting at the back of my closet curled up on my Pjs. I feel horrible for leaving him, and miss my family.

Day 3:
Day begins with the worship service honoring ministers who have served 25 and 50 years. Never fails to make the whole trip worthwhile. Cried during role call just for a warm up. Found an extra pack of Kleenex at the bottom of my bag- shared them around. Not only does the service remind me what I thought ministry was, but in the tough times I think back on it and remember that ordination is for life- I remember my vow and strive to come back to that service one more year.

More good friends, good sushi.

Then the teeming hoards come (600 clergy becomes 3500 UUs) and suddenly I am deeply homesick. We determine that 2 years away from my former congregation is enough to join their delegation for dinner. I eat with my guide-daughter and her Mama, and feel much better. We watch the parade of flags, but the opening ceremonies were not suited to a toddler. Guidedaughter and Mama head out into the lobby to preserve the peace for other attendees. I sit for a minute listening to the last thoughts of our UUA president, and realize this is the wrong choice. I follow out to the lobby, and we sticker, run, dance, jump, and explore until her bedtime. Yes.

Day 4:
Now I’m really homesick. Blerg. Mark Morrison-Reed speaks eloquently, but an hour of Q&A is too much. I play hookie and catch up with yet more old friends.

Catching Up starts like this:
How are you?
I’m great.
I’m in a personal Renaissance
I serve a family size historic Universalist congregation
I live in Ithaca
(The commute is about an hour)
We just bough a music store! And my partner is really enjoing running it.
My son is 8, yes 8, can you belive it? He comes up to here now (pointing to shoulder)
How are you?

The Fahs lecture is awesome as always. Sandra Sasso says exactly what I would say if I were smarter, and tells 50 stories.

Sadly, I fail to be engaged by the afternoon program, and go for a run instead. This is crazy because it is hot in the mid afternoon sun, but there is public art everywhere, fabulous whimsical sculpture in unexpected places. The wind picks up (note to self, never run by a construction site when it is getting ready to storm). I shower and go back. I am still bored. And homesick. I sneak into a jazz and poetry sundown service. It’s nice. I resolve to come back in the morning.

Guidedaughter and her mamas once again cheer me up. After dinner we dangle our feet in the pool and I go back to the conference with a wet behind. Run into (miraculously) yet another 2 dear colleagues arguing religious education theory outside the worship. I convince one of them to go in with me, and afterwards we get cheap beers and talk about our dogs and kids. She agrees that things seem kind of deflated this year at GA.

Day 5:
Wake depressed. Decide to get up for 8:00 worship anyway. As I’m in the shower I notice how sad I am. Homesickness? Missing my California days? No, there’s something more, something in the air. I decide there is an ambient sadness at GA this year. Why? Our esteemed president ending his 8 year term. The loss of programs and staff to the economic downturn. The changes to GA, the possible shrinking or (my roommate reminds me) the elimination of GA altogether. Yes. Somehow this is comforting to me. It makes sense that GA would be somehow less jubilant in such a year. The morning program is lovely and quiet, and I find yet another old friend to sit with and talk small-church.

I somehow make it through the exhibit hall without buying any jewelry and only $30 of books. A personal best.

At the Starr King Grad Dinner we grieve a beloved professor- Patti Lawrence. I remember how much the school means to me.

I meet Guidedaughter and her Mama at an Intergenerational Dance workshop. She is slow to wake, but by the final moments is ready to dance. She drags her Mama “come to the center!” Even as the workshop ends, she dance from flower to flower on the carpet. We meet her Mommy and head to the Service of the Living Tradition. She does okay for a while, and I show her photos of herself dancing to distract, but Mommy makes the big sacrifice and takes her home for bed. Mama and I remain to hear Mary Harrington, who was finishing seminary the year I began, and was even then admired by all, deliver her beautiful and heart wrenching sermon. She was diagnosed 3 years ago with ALS, and as she gently exhorts us to our responsibilities to the life of the spirit, of appreciating and noticing beauty and connection, there is no possibility for dodging her wisdom. She speaks with undeniable authority. 3000 of us grieve and rededicate our lives as one.

Day 6:
Breakfast with Guidedaughter and the Mamas, goodbyes.

Travel begins at 9:00 am. I write you now from the Detroit airport. It’s 9:50 pm and the 9:36 flight out to Ithaca has yet to arrive. Rode the people mover through the light show twice. Drank beer until my waitress had to close up. I miss my family. It will be good to be home.

Still a Religions Educator

2009-06-15T09:06:00.004-04:00

I now serve a family size congregation as their parish minister, but prior to that served 9 years as a Minister of Religious Education. My settlement at my current church feels like a circling round, because my internship was in Parish Ministry, and I was fellowshipped as a parish minister, and in fact had to jump through some logistical hoops to have my specialty changed from parish to religious education. Then, in a clerical error, on the big day when I was presented with my certificate of final fellowship, it said "parish minister." Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something, I thought.

When I left my position as MRE, I dropped my membership in the Religious Educators guild, 'cause who can afford 2 sets of dues? A few weeks back I went to a district retreat for ministers and religious educators, and found myself sitting at an all-religious-educator table at lunch. (It's probably that obstinate "sit with someone you don't know" habit from youth cons). I found I could still talk religious-educator (It'd only been 2 years after all) though I was a little behind on some of the latest curricula. And of course I am always ready to talk yoga, politics, theology, gardening and environmental education. I went from feeling shy about meeting a whole table of colleagues I didn't know after just having met a whole districts worth of new ministers I didn't know, to feeling obstinate- "I will sit with the religious educators, I have a right to be here." And I realized that there is still a part of my identity tied up with religious education, a part of me that still recognizes that table as "my people".

Revered senior colleague Tom Owen-Towle lead us through some reflection throughout our retreat about calling and ministry. And I flashed back to a document someone at the UUA had put out years ago, explaining the many roles an MRE can have. I remembered a listing that had puzzled me at the time "An MRE can be the sole minister in a parish" and I thought, is that me? I don't think the congregation thinks of me that way, but they don't seem to mind that I attend the Youth Religious Education meetings, or lead a Coming of Age program. And I have obstinately held since my seminary days that any time a minister leads an Adult RE class, or preaches, or creates programming and action that leads to reflection and growth she is engaged in religious education. Very slowly it dawned- could it be I'm still a Religious Educator after all?

How's Business?

2009-06-04T13:22:00.004-04:00

I know some of you read this blog only for the business updates, and I know it's been a while. The truth is, May was a slow month, and the bills from re-stocking the inventory in April have arrived. Folks still buy plenty of guitar strings and drum heads, and the starter amps fly out of the store I'm told, but the high-end stuff mostly just waits for better times.

My partner has kicked into high gear with publicity and advertising. Most nights see him at the dining room table moving words back and forth a millimeter or so on Adobe Illustrator as he creates adds, bumper stickers, fliers, coupons. It seems like everyone should know about a music store that's been in town since 1951, but I met a local musician the other day who had never heard of the place. So our job now is just to get to know every musician in the county. Wish us luck.

When anxiety rises, I remind my partner and myself that every small business struggles in this economy, but we probably wouldn't have been able to buy a business in the boom times. Our goal is just to make it through this downturn, however long that lasts, to keep paying our bills on-time until the tide comes back in. In the meantime we still get to be part of the local music scene, and there is some awesome music here to be enjoyed.

Common Ground

2009-06-03T11:40:00.001-04:00

On my drive home from church after a committee meeting, my NPR pre-set from the radio world near my home is a Christian Radio station down near the church. I sometimes tune in to hear the preacher on Tuesday nights for a minute or two as I decide what CD to put in. His theology and world view could not be more different from my own, but he's a good preacher. Last Tuesday he was preaching on James 4:13 and the preacher said the trouble with these guys is that they weren't involving God in their plans. He then went on an extended flow about all the devices we have now-a-days to speed up our lives and came to the conclusion that things are moving fast, so we have to be praying constantly, in order to include God in all our decisions which must be made so quickly.

Suddenly I had a flash of another voice I've listened to on that same stretch of rural road. I had recently checked out an audiobook by Carolyn Myss, and now realized she would say the same thing, in that same passionate evangelizing tome of voice, though she would surely say it in a progressive new age kind of way.

And I wondered, is this one of those truths that I can get beyond the ideology and cultural context to engage? Do I believe I should be praying constantly? I mean, I'm more of a meditater than a pray-er, but certainly my contemplative life is not what it could be. But then I found myself wondering- is it polite to pray constantly? Isn't it something you should dress up for and be properly prepared? Is it like when you send too many e-mails out to your congregation and they stop listening? Do I want to clog the airways with junk mail to God?

Then I remembered that I was getting trapped in the stereotypical image of prayer- the "can I please have a new bike" kind. I remembered that when I had a more diligent spiritual life I had realized that for me prayer is mostly listening. This I could see- maybe praying constantly means just keeping the line open. Then the station faded to static, and I put in my CD.

Setback

2009-05-28T10:58:00.002-04:00

Last night UnderDog found my cell phone where it was charging and chewed through the charger to liberate it. Then, once back in his lair, he chewed off the battery cover. My partner (bless him) managed to put the battery cover back on (mostly), but the little dealy that connects the charger to the phone is chewed clean through. Sigh. I wonder if "my dog ate it" is covered under my cell phone plan.

The phone is the most significant casualty so far, though there have been others, and perhaps my son might argue with me about how significant his little DonkeyKong toy is that was chewed in a pretty thorough way. We did yet another sweep of the floor and low tables to remove everything UnderDog might chew, which turns out to be, well, everything.

Blerg.

A new Leash on Life

2009-05-27T21:13:00.002-04:00

UnderDog went on his first real leash walk today- that is to say, he was on a leash and he walked! We only got about 2 houses down the block, because he was so amazed with every smell of every inch of grass and every tree trunk. My son held Dog's leash, and he and Dog were both very patient with UnderDog's big adventure. When UnderDog got home and we were all settling in, he picked up his leash and brought it back to his bed.

At Home

2009-05-27T12:39:00.004-04:00

We decided not to travel out of town this weekend as we had originally planned. One of the main reasons was UnderDog. Dog is an excellent guest, and is welcomed into many homes, but UnderDog is still learning how to live in this house, and panics a little just going into a new room, or visiting the front yard. Still we managed to fill up our weekend with outings and celebrations, and when our plans fell through for Monday, I had my usual type-A personality panic. It's a holiday, after all, we should DO SOMETHING.

Instead all 3 humans and 2 dogs just puttered around the house. I played a little mandolin, mopped the kitchen, taught my son a new card game. I started to remember that when we spend a day together just hanging out at home, good things happen.

My son, who had been having a tough weekend, started to smile and we started to feel like a team again.

UnderDog did some intensely amusing playing, and tried to engage Dog who still gives him the "I am too old for this" attitude, though she did shake a few fleece toys with a playful tail wag.

I tried a harness and leash on UnderDog in the back yard, and he actually walked across the yard while I held it. UnderDog even forgot himself and took a biscuit out of my hand instead of waiting for me to put it on the floor a safe distance away!

Finally it got to be bedtime, and UnderDog, who was really feeling like part of the pack, looked wistfully up the stairs after us as we ascended. I decided it was worth a try and carried him up. He went first to his bed by my desk where he is sleeping right now, but wasn't sure where to go when Dog and I headed to the bedroom. He paced and explored until I decided he was just too excited to sleep, so I carried him back downstairs to hang out with my partner.

Imagine my surprise when I woke some hours later and saw UnderDog curled up on a futon at the foot of our bed. He had climbed the stairs all by himself, and found himself a place to sleep. And that was that. He goes up and down the stairs now whenever he must (it's still hard for him to get up those tall rickety Victorian steps) and sleeps with the rest of the pack. Something huge changed for him this weekend, and I learned once again that good things happen when the family just hangs out together at home.

Too Soon?

2009-05-25T20:12:00.001-04:00

So about all the burning...
Are you ready to say sorry?

No, probably not. I think that as enlightened as our society is at times, we are never too far from a good old fashioned witch hunt.

Rain

2009-05-24T10:36:00.003-04:00

I was outside yesterday putting in my "wait until last chance of frost" veggies when it started to rain- big fat drops of water and ominous sky and thunder. UnderDog was outside with me and looked at me as a big drop hit his head. He flinched, and looked at the front door. He was hit again. Flinch. Looked at me. I realized he was so freaked out by the rain (which was now turning to hail) that he couldn't pull it together to travel the 7 feet to safety. A approached him cautiously and slowly, picked him up, and set him inside. What a strange life he's had.

Stairs!

2009-05-22T11:20:00.002-04:00

Today UnderDog tried the stairs! I've been carrying him up with me when I come up to the study to write for the past few mornings- he's never even show an interest in trying them on his own. Today I asked (as I always do) "we're going upstairs, wanna come upstairs?" I took my coffee and books up, intending to come down to get Underdog with empty hands. Dog tip-tapped after me into the office, but I heard one more set of clunks on the stairs below. I headed back to our narrow Victorian stairs to see UnderDog on step #4 looking a little worried. I praised him profusely and he let me pick him up to join us. It's a brave new world little dog...

Last Sunday

2009-05-21T11:23:00.006-04:00

This past Sunday we held our final celebration for the first ever Coming of Age program our congregation has ever had. I've been doing coming of Age programs since my internship, and they always have a special place in my heart. I brought everything I could to the program, wanting to get it off on the right foot. (The photo above is of our retreat at a local girl scout camp. Coldest Coming of Age retreat I've ever lead.) So Sunday the 4 young women from our church and the 2 young women from a neighboring fellowship were honored in style. The Fellowship canceled their own services that Sunday, put a sign on their door and carpooled over to honor their Initiates with us. It was a packed house, and the Initiates did awesome. I think both congregations get it about why this is a cool program, and so many of them pitched in to make it really a whole-congregation endeavor. I felt I could say with some confidence to the younger brother of one of our initiates "you'll be just the right age when we do this again in 2 years."

Afterward, when the camera's were snapping away (I've decided there is a "# of cameras" indicator for how important a life event is) one participant got my attention and, holding the chalice necklace that had just been placed around her neck by her mentor, said "it was like a Bat Mitzvah or something" and I knew that we had done what we'd set out to do.

Underdog Update

2009-05-21T10:49:00.002-04:00

As I got ready for work this morning my partner provided me with a streaming UnderDog commentary:

"He ran outside, then ran back in to get a toy and ran back out"

"He's rubbing his face in your potted plants. I called his name and he's looked up. He's got a leaf stuck to his face."

As UnderDog runs randomly back and forth at high speeds my partner says "Now is the time on Sprockets when we dance."

Dog is being pretty gracious about the whole thing. The two of them are starting to move as a pack- they appear together when it's time to eat or go outside. It no longer seems traumatic for either one if they have to pass in the hall, or occupy the same sofa at the same time. Last night as I arrived home from work they both met me at the safety gate which keeps them on the porch and sniffed me through the diamond-shaped holes just big enough to for a dog nose. I hope Dog doesn't feel like she is being overshadowed. We give her all the hugs that UnderDog is not ready for.

The Collector

2009-05-18T11:08:00.008-04:00

Things found in UnderDog's bed this morning:
All the dog toys
5 chewies
My left slipper
My son's Calvin and Hobbes book
A DRINKING GLASS

Yesterday he tried (unsuccessfully) to get a blue serving tray and Dog's Bed up in there.

Discouraged

2009-05-15T13:12:00.005-04:00

Sometimes we get a little discouraged being the new home for a rescue dog. We're just not sure how to housetrain a dog who is scared of the out-of-doors. Sometimes he uses the puppy pads. Sometimes he doesn't. Last night while we were at my son's chorus concert he peed right on our only carpet. Sigh. We won't be able to bring him visiting with us when we travel to see friends until he is house trained. I don't want to invite him to sleep upstairs with us until he knows where to "go."

We have a camping trip planned for July, so I started training UnderDog on being on a leash (since we know he is a runner, and won't be coming when called like Dog does). He was very passive and cowering, but did take a few tentative steps. I left the harness on when we came inside so he could get used to it (we figured if any dog could slip his collar UnderDog could) When I arrived home after my meeting, he was even more cowering and flinchy than usual. I took the harness off and put it nearby so he could get used to it, or get his smell on it. Moments later I heard a crunch- he had chewed off the buckle. Back to square one.

We see a mischievous playful side in him, but he is very timid about expressing it. Yesterday he brought a magazine back to his bed, and my son reports he spent the morning clearing all objects off the ottoman. He find the dog toys and brings them back to his spot, but is way too scared to play with us. I know it has only been two weeks, and that he has made tremendous progress, but sometimes I worry that if he never attached to humans in his first year of life, it might not be possible for him. And poor Dog never bonded with Dogs in her first year of life, so our two dogs are still figuring out how to relate to one another.

This morning, though, he was very sweet. He didn't venture outside when I opened the door for him, but stood in the doorway smelling the spring air. When I came home from yoga he came near me, then went back to his safe space, came close, and went back to his spot. I wondered "Is he asking me to come visit him there?" (He has not yet let me pick him up or pet him except in his spot on the sofa.) He seemed downright relaxed when I came over to say hello. So I decided to spend some extra time today reading on the sofa near him. I hated to leave him downstairs when I came up to write Sunday's service (he hasn't tried the stairs yet) so I carried him and his bed up to the study, and after some tentative exploration and anxiety about boundaries, both he and Dog are keeping me company.

Die Slippers Die

2009-05-11T11:16:00.004-04:00

I took off my fluffy pink slippers to take out the compost bucket. My partner reports that as soon as I had gone, UnderDog snuck over and grabbed one, shook it mercilessly in his teeth, and brought it back to his lair. He then found it's mate and brought that to his lair as well. I came back from the compost bin and he resumed cowering deferentially.

UnderDog and the Outside

2009-05-10T14:59:00.005-04:00

In the first hours after we Brought UnderDog home, I wanted him to get to know the outside, to make sure he knew where to do his business. I brought him outside in his carrier, where he stayed for quite some time without venturing out. Eventually I reached in and pulled him out. I set him on the grass, but he seemed unsure what to do. I thought "maybe he'd be more comfortable if I weren't around" so I went back inside to work on dinner. I knew he would be okay in the back yard because Dog has spent years out there and never had any trouble. My partner and I peaked out occasionally to make sure he was doing okay, but one time UnderDog wasn't there.

It still makes my stomach clench to remember that moment when I realized he had probably squeezed under one of the tiny openings beneath our wood fence. The neighbors pointed the direction he had gone, and I followed him in my slippers, sure this was going to end in tragedy. I knew he would run if anyone tried to pick him up, and that he didn't even have a tag on his collar yet. We live right downtown, and the chances he would run out into the considerable traffic were high. At one point I was standing in the middle of State Street waving my arms at oncoming cars who could probably not see the little terrified dog trying to avoid going near the folks drinking coffee at a sidewalk cafe. He would slip out of sight for a moment, then I would catch a glimpse of him going around a corner. A neighbor joined me as I took off my slippers, thinking I could move faster in bare feet. Finally UnderDog cornered himself in a patch of tall grass next to a wooden fence. The neighbor and my partner stood in his two paths of escape. I bent down into the grass and scooped him up. I carried him in my arms the long walk home. I felt sick that I had not provided a safe yard for this already traumatized dog.

We didn't go outside again that night, but the next morning I thought "I'll just put him down and watch him carefully. If I stand between him and his exit, then we can get by until we have reinforced the fence" As I set him down he looked at me in terror, then bolted to the opposite end of our yard to a new escape route, and had his shoulders through a chipped place in the cement wall before I could cross the 8 feet of lawn to stop him. I felt miserable and powerless. I found some helpful advice on my favorite Mill-Survivor site that made me feel like maybe I wasn't the worst guardian ever, but house-training, I decided, would start another day.

Monday I begged my friends CrowJoy and Mander to come over and inspect the yard with me. We took a field trip to the Agway and found a roll of garden edging which my friend Mander fastened up with her pneumatic nail gun. We nailed extra bits to any little nook or cranny we could find. We also bought a good supply of puppy pads, because it was now clear that house-training was going to be a long-term process.

The next time Dog needed to go out, I scooped up UnderDog and I sat with him in my arms on the steps as he sniffed the air and listening to the birds. I felt safe again.

UnderDog still has some ambivalence about the out of doors. He will slip out the open door to the backyard when he is sure no one is watching, and can be seen some days bounding in joy, and other days cowering with his back against the wire mesh we installed for his safety.

Pink Snow

2009-05-06T15:46:00.004-04:00

Last night I was walking home from my environmental action meeting across the Ithaca Commons. The light was diffuse as it was just past sunset, and all the flowering fruit trees were shedding their petals. For a moment my mind was deceived and I thought I was back on a winter walk along that same path through the snow flurries. In the background was the sound of a live band at one of the pavilions -- a samba for Cinco de Mayo.

UnderDog Adventure

2009-05-06T15:42:00.002-04:00

Today UnderDog left his couch and snuck into the kitchen while both Dog and I were there! After a few false starts he got himself a drink of water, and then found a chewie to bring back to his spot.

My "normal" mill-rescue dog

2009-05-05T21:06:00.005-04:00

On UnderDog's second day he barely got off the sofa. I started to worry- what if he's sick? How could I tell if he was healing from getting "fixed" 3 days before and all those shots and just trying to integrate a new place and new people or if maybe he was really sick? I sure didn't want to add another vet visit to his already considerable stress. His Foster Mom had recommended a site for Puppy Mill Survivors, and it was so helpful. I read this quote about a dog 8 weeks out of the Puppy Mill:

"Susie spends nearly all her time sitting in one of our recliners. That is where she feels safe. She has shown no interest in exploring the house. She has only recently started to jump down and run around a little or occasionally to follow me into the bedroom but that is progress"

UnderDog moved his "Safe" place yesterday- about a foot up to the back of the sofa. He has spent 2 days there now. From there he can see out the window to the street, or snuggle down between the pillows until only the top of his head is showing.

We have seen great progress already- when I came home from my run, he was in the DINING ROOM! He slunk back to his safe place, belly low to the ground, when he realized he had company, but later in the day when I carefully picked him up and brought him to the kitchen (where we have put up a safety gate so he can eat and use the puppy pad) I noticed the "space bubble" he likes to have between himself and me is shrinking. He was very amazed by the sound of coffee brewing, and the site of his reflection in our back door. After a while he had eaten his fill and I was ready to leave the kitchen, so I lifted the gate. Poor UnderDog shrank into a corner in terror. I didn't realize that gate made him feel safe, I thought it was just helping me keep the house clean. I took him back to his safe spot, and he has been there all the hours since. Sometimes sleeping, sometimes sitting up with alert ears. I wonder if he'll ever want to see the upstairs?

Dog and Underdog

2009-05-05T14:15:00.004-04:00

The very first dog that Dog and I went to meet (fully expecting to bring him home with us that very day) bounced and jumped and growled and bit there in the front yard of the Animal Shelter. Dog asked if she could please go hide in the car.

When we went to meet UnderDog, the Foster Mother recommended we not bring Dog, as the effect of 6 dogs and 2 cats might be intimidating. From our first moment in the door we saw Underdog acting as one with a fellow mill-rescue dog, pacing together, avoiding me together, hiding together, naping together. This made me feel hopeful.

When Dog and Underdog met for the first time Dog was in his carrier (door open, hiding inside) and Dog gave a cautious sniff. Later when UnderDog ventured out, they circled each other some cautiously. Meeting only once face to face, each showed teeth silently for just a second, and they went their separate ways. I was amazed by this subtle, gentle working through of territory and dominance. I also saw Dog growl quietly when UnderDog, trying to evade me, tried to hide behind/on-top-of her as she lay curled in her bed. So territories were set. UnderDog gets Dog's formerly favorite place on the couch, and Dog gets her own bed and all the rooms of the house UnderDog has yet to venture into.

It turns out the two will not be curling up together for a nap anytime soon, but Dog is being so sweet and sensitive. She has yet to make another territory stand, even when UnderDog is smelling her things. She gives UnderDog a wide birth on the rare occasions that he leaves his safe spot and makes a foray into another room. She even has noted which chewy is his, and leaves it be.

Last night after I had brought UnderDog into the kitchen for dinner, my son settled into his prized spot on the couch. UnderDog returned to the living room with a concerned look. After some circling and thinking he climbed cautiously onto the other end of the couch. Dog, realizing she couldn't also be on the couch and give UnderDog the space bubble that he needs to feel comfortable, went upstairs to lie down. I think she may have a better hang of being a big sister than I gave her credit for.

UnderDog

2009-05-03T20:02:00.005-04:00

This is the newest member of our family. UnderDog was rescued from a Puppy Mill, and had been living with foster parents (and 5 foster siblings) for 2 weeks. He had never seen the sun, or walked on the grass, and seems generally terrified of humans.

I had gone to meet another dog who looks a great deal like Dog, and when I met her I was struck by how she had Dog's same sweet deep eyes. UnderDog paced behind her, and when she lay down, UnderDog curled up on her back shoulder. I knew that the sweet Bichon/Maltese did not like to be touched, and would get up and walk away when petted. Foster Mom mentioned that UnderDog would let you pet him "if you can catch him." So they caught him for me, and put him in my arms, and we sat like that on Foster Mom's sofa as the other 5 dogs swirled around our feet or cowered in the corner. I thought- we are a family that likes to hug. No question. Like the first smiles of an infant, it would go a long way to help us be patient with the work of integrating a rescue dog into our family if we could get a hug now and then.

UnderDog came home with us yesterday. He spent the last 24 hours first trying to avoid us, and then sleeping when he found Dog's awesome space on the couch. When I got home from work this afternoon he was in his borrowed dog-carrier where he had gone to hide and sleep when my partner got up. I reached in to pet him - so far so good. I pulled him out despite is best passive resistance maneuvers, but when I picked him up, he just curled in tight to me. We sat like that on the couch for what seemed like forever, then he slowly walked off my lap and to his on spot further down the sofa.

He still looks worried most of the time he's awake, but a hug goes a long way.

Spring Blooms and Losses

2009-05-01T11:03:00.004-04:00

It's been too long since I last blogged, and things are blooming all around. The flowering trees are right in their glorious prime, but I just don't have the energy to carry my camera with me everywhere documenting each blossom like I did last year. As I've beeen traveling and working, I've been saving up things I wanted to tell you about on a Blog Sticky, but time just keeps flowing.

I never even told you about Pap's funeral. Pap was my partner's grandfather, a warm, funny guy who loosly disguised himself in a gruff exterior. He had had many strokes recently, and I am so glad he was able to die in his own home with his son and daughter at his side. When we went back for the memorial I was a little nervous at first about stepping into his house, but the cousins filled it with music and stories of Pap. Some traditions hold that spirit of the departed lingers for a few days as it makes its transition. I don't know if our songs and stories cheered Pap on his transition, but it sure helped ours.

I never told you about the Grand-Re-Opening of the store. It was colorful and lively, full of all our favorite things: Live Music, cookies, flowers, family and friends. The local college radio station we sponsor came and brought a booth for the parking lot.

That very weekend my partner drove all the way to NYC to see the A's play, only to have the game rained out. He should have stayed here where there was an AWESOME Neko Case show that I got to see with a colleague who was filling my pulpit that weekend.

Then it was off to Albany NY for the big UU minister retreat and District Assembly. There I learned I am STILL grieving for my California district (I hope my new colleagues didn't get too sick of my talk of the "ex"). The tulips that were still green buds when I departed had bloomed an gone when I returned. There were only a few later bloomers left.

While I was retreating with my colleagues I remembered that there was something more I am supposed to be doing. Like that nagging feeling when you are in the check-out in the grocery store that you forgot to get something crucial- then I remembered: the environment. It's not that I haven't been preaching and studying about the earth, it's just that working part time there is a hole that is crying to be filled. It's not that I'm not busy, it's just that I'm busy with a million little tiny things. The story of my life lately has felt like reading Facebook, and I want to read a novel (oh, like Le Guin's Earth Sea series. I want one of those amazing stories that you can walk around in as long as it takes to read all 5 books). I realized a lot of the work I've been doing are short-term tasks that feel like snacking. I don't want to fill up on snacks, I need a good piece of work that feels like a meal. So I've joined the team that is bringing Bioneers to the Ithaca Area. We'll see if that satisfies.

I've also been thinking of adopting a friend for Dog. I have met 3 candidates so far- 2 were clearly not right for us, and one found a different home. I have an appointment today at 2:00 to meet another dog- a rescue dog from a puppy mill. I am constantly running 2 scenarios for this weekend and the coming weeks: one where a shy little dog needs consistent help with housetraining and adjustment, and one where life keeps its steady unchanging rhythm.

In the mean time I've been snacking on a new blog:
Yoga Blogn

Composter

2009-04-14T15:58:00.004-04:00

I just assembled and installed our new solar composter. (It involved an actual power tool and digging a huge hole in our garden) I am exhausted and very excited.

We have a 4 x 8 herb garden, and a lawn that's only slightly bigger. But last week as I was scraping vegetable peelings into the trash I just couldn't wait any longer. The ground is thawed, I thought, and it's time to do some urban composting.

Sources

2009-04-13T20:58:00.004-04:00

Unitarian Universalists have adopted 6 official sources of their tradition. When the most recent was adopted (Earth Centered Taditions) I got to witness the process first hand at our general assembly, and hear both sides of the issue. Now it's hard to imagine our tradition without acknowledging that source.

But recently, as I was reading Wisdom Sits in Places I realized that a new idea has been emerging slowly in my own consciousness. The UU sources are all people, or traditions created by people. We may lift up the Earth Centered traditions which teach us to honor "the sacred circle of life and instruct us to live in harmony with the rhythms of nature", but we don't list the earth herself as a source of our wisdom. We list science, but we do not list trees, or stars, or the other beings we share our eco-system with.

And frankly, it's not currently a commonly held source of our UU tradition. But I am finally able to articulate that it is a source of my own.

Irises

2009-04-01T18:51:00.003-04:00

The irises I planted last fall are up. They are quick little guys- from no bud at all to full bloom in one day. There are so many metaphors wrapped in those little 4" plants, about planting for the future, about the faith in spring after a cold winter, about the strength of the small.

The landscape is still very stark- very beige and gray. Not one tree has yet to bud. These first little flowers are like harbingers of things to come. A little color that brings joy to the eye.

Worth a thousand words

2009-03-26T11:45:00.002-04:00

Please accept this picture in lieu of a sermon on encountering obstacles.

Party Line

2009-03-17T11:08:00.005-04:00

I am a dyed in the wool liberal. All those things Rush Limbaugh hates, I am:

Socialist
Queer
Feminist
Tree-hugger
Pantheist
Bleeding-Heart
Pacifist

And proud of it, thank you very much.

But there is one part of the liberal platform that I don't get: Embryonic Stem Cell research. I haven't decided how I feel about this. It seems awash with ethical issues that should be carefully considered, and this is what concerns me. When something becomes "party line" there is no room for a circumspect discussion of ethical implications. You are either with the party or against it. I'm thrilled that our new president wants scientists to have the freedom to do science unfettered by politics. But even though I'm a pro-choice feminist, I am not prepared to say for sure when life begins, and am ignorant about what ethical model is being used for embryonic research, and how I feel about it.

As a card carrying liberal (I've got a GreenStar Co-op card, a UU Minister's Association card, and a World Wildlife Fund card in my wallet right now), I just want the freedom to say "I don't know, can we talk about this one?"

Part Time

2009-03-17T10:43:00.002-04:00

I am finally settling in to the reality that for the first time since before my son was born that I work part time. While we were gearing up to purchase the music store it was quite a balancing act to get sermons written and loan applications completed. But the business changed hands the same week a volunteer project I was working on came to fruition, and I am beginning to realize that the slow pace of my daily schedule is not anomalous. Now I know I said that we were moving out of Silicon Valley to have a quieter more sustainable life, but I think I hear crocuses growing this morning. In theory it is perfect; between the time I drop my son at school and when the bus brings him home there is just enough time to exercise, work my half day in the home office and make and clean up from lunch.

But this week both the Board and the Committee on Ministry at the church have mentioned that they are feeling kind of amazed at how much the church is doing, and how it's important not to over-tax the system, to remember that church should be fun and not all work. I realized that some of the things I've got on my "to do" list for the church need to stay there for a while- that I need to make sure I don't put too much in the pipeline all at once. I'm realizing that this is a part-time position not just because of church finances, but also because it may really be meeting the needs of a family-size congregation.

Last time I worked part time I was fresh out of seminary. I was used to spending the days meditating, writing, reading. Since then I've served a busy congregation full time while raising a child through his early years. I wonder, could I get back to that state of mind where I felt close to the ineffable most of the time? Will I become a more involved activist? Will I finally learn to play the mandolin confidently? Or is this just cabin fever that will disappear once the soil thaws and gardening season begins? I don't want to go back to the frantic pace of my old life, but there is clearly some need as yet unfilled. I should figure out what it is before I drive my congregation over the edge with ideas and projects.

Music Store Update

2009-03-17T10:41:00.002-04:00

Tonight- Our CEO meets with the DJs from the local music show we are sponsoring

New guitars are finally coming in

We rented a water cooler- apparently it rocks

Next- how do you serve cookies and drinks at the Grand ReOpening party without endangering the instruments?

2nd week

2009-03-12T10:26:00.001-04:00

This post is dedicated to my father-in-law who wanted to know "why the news blackout" on the store.

Here are a few brief updates:

The checks finally came

The Credit cards finally came

We spent all the rest of our inventory money, but the store still looks bare, and it turns out instruments are expensive! (who knew?) After a brief panic, we realized that when people bought things there would be money to spend on more inventory. Phew. Now the trouble is that people are buying inventory faster than we can make orders and get them filled. We are starting from scratch with each and every vendor, filling out piles of forms and waiting while they determine our credit-worthiness. Even after that some of the guitars we order have to be made I think. My partner says several customers have commented on "how bare the store looks." Our goal is to have the store crammed with merchandise for the grand re-opening party.

Here's my partner's awesome-est idea so far: Print advertising is crazy expensive- our grand re-opening add (purchased at 50% off for the occasion) will run once and is 2 months of our advertising budget. So our awesome CEO checked into sponsoring the local music show on the local college radio station. It turns out we can be the sole sponsor of the show for a year for around the cost of that one print add. AND we get to help the public radio station AND support local music all at the same time.

Another major milestone- my partner now knows more about QuickBooks and accounting for the store than I do. My only remaining job at the store is to reconcile the bank statements once a month and to make sure we have set aside a month or 2 of payroll so that if things get tight we can pay the landlord and the amazing staff. Fortunately we have a shareholder's meeting almost every night, and our CEO brings the board up to speed on operations.

Next big goal? Making the Grand Re-Opening party rock.

Home Alone

2009-03-02T11:44:00.003-05:00

After over a year of working from home, my partner has gone off to work at the store. While he engages the terrifying and exhilarating prospect of a new enterprise, my life is largely unchanged, except that the house seems very empty. The quiet of my home in the morning has often seemed peaceful, fertile ground for writing and thinking. Today, however,the quiet feels like the end of an era.

Rituals for our age

2009-03-02T11:42:00.000-05:00

I was talking with a friend just starting her second trimester about rituals for pregnant women. We were both aware that a religious ritual for pregnancy is somewhat rare- there are no standard forms that either of us knew of, and so we talked about adapting from other transition rituals and creating new ritual.

Of course most important transitions have their rituals in any culture- though they are sometimes hard to spot. I thought about the baby shower- the most common way to honor the transition to parenthood. It is usually a secular affair, and centers around the giving of gifts. Suddenly light dawned- what a perfect ritual for our consumer driven culture- we welcome the mom into the new realms of consumerism that accompany parenthood, and we welcome the baby as a new consumer. What a brilliant reflection of our societal values and norms.

Today's the Day

2009-02-27T13:41:00.001-05:00

This morning my partner and I waited outside our bank as it opened to get the certified checks we would need to buy the business. The denim clad employee whose un-eaten begal
and steaming coffee called to him throughout our transaction took our life savings out of our account, more out of our new HELOC obtained for the purpose, and printed our official looking checks.

We met all the parties at our landlord's office, where our lawyer had used a whole roll of sticky tabs to mark all the places we and the sellers had to sign. We pushed the checks across the table, and it was done.

To celebrate, we shared breakfast with the now-previous owners, all 4 of us swimming in a surreal, transitional space. We chatted about the store and music and facebook until we couldn't put it off any longer; we each departed for our new lives.

My partner and I arrived home to a bottle of Champagne left by a friend on our doorstep, and he headed off for his first day of work, where my mom had sent a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

A new era in our lives has begun.
I hope those blank checks arrive soon...

2 Days

2009-02-25T11:04:00.003-05:00

We finally got our insurance guy on the phone- he says our liability insurance (required by the landlord to start our lease) is "in progress" and "should be no problem" getting us covered for the closing on Friday.

Still waiting for our checks

Still waiting for our business credit card

Received a giant box containing our brand new banner (Thanks Guy!)

Our Bookkeeping-tutor is coming next week after the close to show us how to do Payroll.

Our merchant-services company says it "will probably be okay" to go in Thursday night and switch from the current owners account to our account.

Authorized our first special order, had to ask for COD (see "Still waiting for Credit Card" above)

Our son asks "when does dad get his new job?"

2 days honey. Your dad will be the manager of his own music store in 2 days.

4 Days

2009-02-23T14:54:00.004-05:00

The bookkeeper came last Thursday to our house to help us set up Quick Books. Many hours were spent on the phone by the seller to make sure we can have continuous phone service (this is in jeopardy as we are switching providers, and the competing companies don't like to cooperate). My partner is at the store right now helping the owner count guitars- we have to have a relatively confident inventory to establish the final cost at the closing. We also have to re-hire all the current staff, so my partner is drafting a "welcome" pack for these guys who have been there for years.

We are eagerly waiting for our printed checks to come; it will feel so much more official not to be writing "starter" checks.

Spring- Ithaca Style

2009-02-13T11:56:00.003-05:00

Spring Rain

2009-02-12T10:38:00.003-05:00

Today when my son and I woke to get ready for school it was dark and rainy. I promised myself I didn't have to run in the 40 degree rain, and after dropping Wuggie at school, rolled out my yoga mat in front of the window. I did my first few sun salutations, listening to the rain on the window. The rain reminds me of winter in California, and I remembered the feeling of running in the rain on a warm spring day. I refuse to think of 40 as warm, but I thought about how it is not supposed to get out of 20s in the next 10 days, put on my running shoes and rain jacket and headed out.

This time of year is as awkward as child entering adolescence. The piles of ice and snow left by the plows, now dark with exhaust and dirt, still squat on every corner, though every other surface is covered with the damp degrading fall leaves now clear of snow, and things are just kind of muddy. I was shocked to see the first shoots of crocuses poking through under a bush by my front steps, and hope they will be okay as the ground re-freezes later this week. I ran along a creek filled with rushing brown water, the drainage of not only the rain but the melted snow. There was one giant iceburg in the middle behind which the ducks were hiding. As I ran downstream giant rectangles of ice had broken free and smashed into one another in a kind of spring-thaw rush hour traffic jam. Further downstream yet the ice was solid, and I imagined the water rushing below it to the lake.

Leaving behind so many dear friends in California, I always think of them when the weather does something weird. "Come look at this!" I want to say, but by the time they got on a plane and flew 3000 miles, the brown speckled songbird would probably have moved out from under the bush, and the ice would have moved downstream. And so I blog, in a vain attempt to share it. This one's for you guys.

15 Days

2009-02-12T10:19:00.003-05:00

The close (on our purchase of the music store) has been officially moved up to the 27th! It started to feel real when my partner had to call NYSEG to get the utilities transferred into our name. He has designed a new logo which our friend Guy is making into a banner for us as a business-warming gift (thanks Guy!) We have a band to play at our grand re-opening party on April 17, and our landlord says we can HAVE a grand reopening party, and reminded us to contact the press.

Today we are submitting our application for credit card services and meet with our Business Services Banker for the first time. My partner is trying to figure out why the owners currently pay so much for web hosting, while being on hold with various phone companies. Wow. It's really happening.

It's not me!

2009-02-09T09:40:00.004-05:00

When our outdoor thermometer broke we replaced it with an indoor-outdoor. I put it here by my desk so I can see how cold it really is out there. Just for kicks I switched it over to "indoor" -- it was 60 in here by my computer desk. Turns out the register in this room is not getting warm for some reason. While we try to decide if it's worth calling the furnace guy out to fix it I've dragged the space heater up from the basement and turned the rest of the house down to 64. Our dog, who normally keeps me company here in the office while I work, looked suspiciously at the heater a few times, whimpered, and then went to hang out with my husband. The thermometer now reads 62.6 and I can't believe how much warmer it feels. And here all this time I thought I was just a California wimp. I will keep wearing my wool socks and wool sweaters, but I'm relieved not to have to knit those fingerless gloves I thought would be my salvation for cold mornings at the computer.

20 Days (or maybe 18?)

2009-02-08T20:06:00.003-05:00

We met with the owners of the music store last night. We haven't talked to them since our first meeting- lawyers have been doing all our talking for us. We met them at the store and finally had a tour of all the strange little nooks and crannies, and got to ask them all our questions. (Our son even got to try a banjo.) They are good folks and were very kind and patient and sad to have to sell their store. My partner is getting a better sense of what he will be doing day to day, and he says "it seems like a lot of work." Some things have been done the same way for decades, and we wonder what we will be able to update right away and what things will have to wait. Generally we feel like continuity is the key. A gradual smooth transition. There is plenty of time for everything else. We hope to be at this for a while.

Since March 1 is a Sunday, we are going to try to move the closing up to the 27th.

22 Days

2009-02-06T15:03:00.003-05:00

Yesterday we came to an agreement on the lease for the store. Tomorrow we meet with the current owners to ask our list of questions. Our favorite band has agreed to play the "Grand Re-Opening" party. Next? Credit Cards; how does that work?

Not in Berkeley Any More

2009-02-05T12:58:00.003-05:00

I was driving home form work the other day, and the one public radio station near the church was having a pledge drive so I hit seek on the radio. Many Christian Stations. One preacher was talking about the very same bible story I had talked about the week before (Jonah) so I let him talk. Shortly he came to say "I can't imagine anything that would make me more afraid than to come before God on Judgment day having stood in the pulpit and said that the bible is not the literal inerrant word of God divinely inspired." I felt like he was talking about me specifically. Except he kept calling these preachers who talk about metaphor and symbol as "he." "She!" I called back to the unhearing voice. He went on to talk about the nerve of these preachers to pretend to follow God, pretend to have faith. It started to rankle.

Especially since that same week I learned that the UU church is not invited to participate in the local cooperative that addresses poverty in our county because we are "not Christian." Now I have recently had occasion to explain on more than one occasion that although Unitarian Universalism has Christian roots, and there are Christian UUs, I don't happen to be one of them. So I'm not going to try to have it both ways. If the cooperative is only for Christians, I'm not going to argue semantics. But I don't really see what doctrine has to do with caring for God's children. It's a theological climate that is very different from the one I left behind in the San Francisco Bay Area, and even different from the one I leave behind each time I drive across the border from my home in Ithaca.

Added to "To Do" list- stop 'round the Jewish and Muslim communities in the county and say hello.

25 Days

2009-02-04T10:57:00.002-05:00

Yesterday we made a corporation. Our lawyer (I can't believe I have a lawyer) is sending in the papers to the Secretary if State. Next our Lawyer is drawing up by-laws to be adopted at our first shareholder's meeting. Now we are on familiar territory. If there is one thing a UU minister knows it is by-laws and annual meetings.

Too Long

2009-01-31T12:27:00.001-05:00

The sermon was taking extra long this week. It's Saturday and I had just finished the first draft last night. Checked the word count. 3900. I wrote 2 sermons again. Oops. I've spent the morning trying to get it down closer to 2000. No wonder it took so long!

30 days

2009-01-30T11:14:00.003-05:00

My partner and I have amazing (almost)news. We are now officially under contract to buy a music store that my partner will manage. How cool is that! This is not a sudden decision; we have been plodding along at this since before Thanksgiving. Nor is it a done deal; until we trade a check for the front door key anything could happen. But getting a signed Memorandum of Understanding was such a huge milestone after so much work that I wanted to tell the story as we come to the end of the 4th quarter, if you'll pardon the football metaphor.

Yesterday we met with the Insurance guy to try to figure out our "exposure." We don't want to be exposed. We want to be covered. Today I have to research worker's comp to figure out whether we want the owners to be excluded. Seriously, it's been 2 months of this. Neither Seminary nor Music School prepared me. We are learning ever so much!

Jack Mendelssohn

2009-01-29T11:05:00.003-05:00

I am reading today about Jack Mendelssohn and the role he took after "the walkout" at the UU General Assembly in 1969. I am so amazed by a minister who was able to be so, well, ministerial in the middle of crisis. What an amazing role model. I know there are many sides to this controversial moment, and I was not there, but I aspire to be in such a frame of mind during any conflict.

Birds

2009-01-28T09:30:00.001-05:00

Yesterday during my yoga practice I was looking out my second floor window at a stunning bright red cardinal who was eating the seeds off the topmost branches of the tree in front of our house. He didn't seem to mind me watching him, but the second I pulled out my camera he flew away. This has happened almost every time I have tried to take a picture of the birds in my neighborhood (ducks not withstanding). I wonder why birds don't like to have their pictures taken?

To Run or Not to Run

2009-01-22T10:15:00.004-05:00

Last year when it got cold and the sidewalks got icy I joined the neighborhood gym for the winter. This year we are conserving money, and really running on a treadmill is like... running on a tread mill. It's practically a metaphor for it's own tedium. Instead I am doing yoga on days too cold to run, and consequently I haven't run in 2 weeks. It was the warmest day of the week today, which means hovering around 20 at running time. And gray. I rolled out my yoga mat again.

By some lovely serendipity, I had scheduled myself months ago to preach my first ever yoga sermon "Lessons learned on the Mat." I've got my stack of yoga books by the computer, and am finally finishing Iyengar's Light on Life. I was looking for a story to tell during the "Lesson for All Ages" and realized that we should just do a few asanas together. I am more nervous about this than the sermon. What poses will hold the interest of our elementary school kids and be accessible to our elders?

I am a little worried about how hard that first run will be when the temperatures get back up into the high 20s or even 30s. But living seasonally is something I believe in, so perhaps winter is the season of yoga. Maybe I just need to have faith that the sun will come back in the spring and I will burst out in my running shoes like those little crocuses bursting through the frozen ground.

Worries

2009-01-21T16:56:00.001-05:00

I've been worrying a lot about money lately. So has most of the world I guess. I grew up in a frugal household that hated waste, and though I had kept the desire not to be wasteful I have been able to loosen some of the tightness that came over me whenever it came to money. It's back. It's not that I've stopped spending, it's just that we've cut back, and that I worry. I think about what we can cut back on next, and then think about what we will cut back on later if the economy doesn't turn around. I want to learn to be frugal without being tight, without living in a sense of scarcity.

Could it be hope?

2009-01-20T15:46:00.000-05:00

With my husband and all of America I watched the Inauguration with wet eyes, a lump in my throat, and a strange feeling of hope in my chest. For an hour I let go of the jaded cynicism that has been my companion the last decade or so, as I heard that we need not set down our idealism in these hard times. I will have to unpack that and dust it off- I had so much of it when I was young. I'm sure it's around here somewhere.

As the Rev. Joseph E. Lowery urged us in the inaugural benediction:

"Let all those who do Justice and love Mercy say Amen"

Amen
Amen
Amen