Carrots and Ginger

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

2009-11-04T11:46:00.002-05:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.