The sign reads "Le'Ora's Beauty Salon". This is a picture I had orinally posted on my temporary Typepad site; not sure many people saw it (as no one commented on it), so it feels safe to post here.
This is Simba. I visited Simba last weekend, when I braved icy roads to visit his human companion, Elsie.It's hard to believe that I have posted 1427 entries in three years. Assuming each of those years had 365 days, that represents an average of a little less than 1.5 entries per day. March 23, 2006, is only 28 days away ("February is a son of a gun"). This means I need to post a little over 2.5 entries per day.
It's a bold goal, but one needs bold goals if one ever hopes to achieve anything worthy of note. Besides, I can always "pad" with Photoshop art, pictures of my cat, poetic fragments, and meta-self-reflective entries such as this one.
It's interesting how folk respond to this space. In Wednesday's RevGal round-up, Will Smama mentions that she is intimidated by my blog. In a friendly comment-interchange (which you will see toward the bottom of the "round-up"), she admits she is intimidated by the sheer volume of my verbiage.
Not necessarily the quality. I can understand how the sight of all those words marching down the screen would be a little intimidating.
Will Smama, may I introduce you to Meg? She is even more verbose than I am, and posts practically every day.
Talk about overwhelming....
On the other hand, Christine Hamm includes me on a long list of poets who can kick her fanny. At first, I thought the verb might be "kiss", but it is "kick".
Ms. Hamm has been posting since 2002, so she has me beat in longevity. And she has posted more poems per week than I have lately.
About her list of "poets who can kick my ass" - as a list of blogging poets, it's almost as inclusive and extensive as Ron Silliman's. Still, I'm mighty pleased to be included in such distinguished company.
Originally, I was using this space to vent my spleen toward USA, Inc. (D*ck Cheney, CEO). Then, when I rediscovered a poetic voice, I was posting reputed poems every day.
I've used this space for personal reflections, theological musings, and obsessive pictures of my feline companion.
I seem to lack the discipline to focus on one thing. Which I hope makes this an interesting place to visit. Rather than a somewhat disjointed one.What though the tempest loudly roars,
I hear the truth it liveth;
What though the darkness round me close,
songs in the night it giveth.
Through all the tumult & the strife,
I hear the music ringing.
It sounds an echo in my soul -
How can I keep from singing?
When tyrants tremble, sick with fear,
their final death knells ringing;
When Friends rejoice, both far & near,
How can I keep from singing?
In prison cell or dungeon vile,
our thoughts to them are winging.
When Friends by shame are undefiled,
How can I keep from singing?
© 1957, Sanga Music Inc.
This is my favorite song. I'm told it's Sparks', as well. There are a number of excellent recordings of it; I think my introduction was through Pete Seeger's.
According to the Rise Up Singing collection (© 1988), "This is an old Quaker hymn that dates back to pre-Civil War North Carolina, when Friends there suffered persecution for their opposition to slavery."
This is what gives me hope. Individuals may be cruel, venal, and so on - the "Children of Night". They are outnumbered by the "Children of Light". Humanity, as a whole, tends toward the positive. The movement is frustratingly slow, but it does occur.
Slavery is no more in the U.S. Racism persists, but great strides have been made there as well.
Just as these evils were eventually overcome, the present unpleasantness will come to an end in time. Already the witnesses against America's Iraq folly are increasing - the Christian Peacekeeper Teams being the most notable.
I put my "arrows of desire" in my quiver. I pledge myself to the "Lord of Love". I shall strive this day to be an agent of hope.A day like today
tempts the covers
to stay over your head.
A day like today
is frozen; breath freezes
on your words,
your words freeze
in your mouth.
When you face a day like today,
you might as well pack your tent.
When you meet a day like today,
you best turn around
and walk the other way.
A day like today
has your number, bub.
It's going to hunt you down
like a squirrel digging
after forgotten nuts.
You never want to forget
a day like today.
It's a passionate heartache
that has bought the last ticket
out of the precincts
of a day like today.
The metro was under a travel advisory, due to an ice storm Friday and
Saturday. It was still sleeting Sunday morning.
Staying alive, or unwounded, is likely more important than going to church. And it may be argued I spent the bulk of the day in "spiritual" pursuits - reading the latest issue of Shambhala Sun, and arranging music for a Compline service.
However, there is an irony in my choosing to stay home yesterday.
First, I had driven halfway across the state - on equally icy roads - to
visit Elsie. A trip that normally takes about two hours took three hours one way and two and a half on the return trip. When I was halfway there, I realized how goofy this trip was. I realized I should have called and rescheduled our meeting. But I had made a commitment. And, being almost halfway there, I was kind of committed. And, as the negative inner voice noted, I should be committed.
Driving halfway across the state - no problem. Driving halfway across town? Not so much.
There's excuses and rationalizations. The highway is actually safer than city streets. After having driven on it, I knew how bad it was. Plus, five and a half hours on the road can be pretty tiring.
The second irony is that I was not feeling nearly so charitable Saturday evening. That's when the local stations were displaying the church closings. Many churches were cancelling their services, due to the ice.
I sat there thinking these people were wimps. After all, I had driven halfway across the state.
Why, I could remember the time when it snowed in the early '80s. The snow was two or three feet deep, with drifts a yard or more high. The only people at church that Sunday were the priest, me, and Mary Ellen, my future (former) wife. It was bad then, but by God we had service.
And you know what? All that flew out the window Sunday morning when I saw that my residential street was a solid sheet of ice. It went out the window when I realized how cold it was. I thought of very good reasons I should stay home - not the least of which was the persistent cough which has yet to move out.
The negative inner voice, though, it not willing to let me off so lightly. "If those people are wimps," it growls, "you're a wimp too. And the worst kind of hypocrite."
Never has there been a better example of the folk wisdom: "When one finger points out, three fingers point back."
This is the first image I drew with my Wacom®. I was testing the feature which registers how much pressure you put on the stylus. I'll need to experiment with that feature some more.
[Click image on left for larger view]
I don't remember the exact name of this process, but the idea is to draw as good a circle free-handed as possible.
It's very nearly my blog anniversary (3/23). This entry is number 1417. Only the good Lord and Dr. Omed know how many words I've typed in the past three years.The team did prep work Friday evening, then were joined by our fellow educators on Saturday. All went home early Sunday afternoon.
I'm really bad about taking time off, and this three day weekend was really good for me. One of the first things I took advantage of was the chair massage - which successfully worked out many of the kinks and crunches in my shoulders and lower back.
The chaplain for the weekend was Fr. Lee, of Bartlesville. His meditations were deeply personal and, not coincidentally, deeply spiritual. His first meditation had to do with the labyrinth.
There were two labyrinths on site: one was a canvas labyrinth patterned on the Chatres design. The other was a lawn labyrinth, patterned on the Cretan design (a modern version is sometimes called a chalice labyrinth).
Labyrinths date to prehistoric times, and there are records of the early Christian community using labyrinths by the 5th or 6th century. The Chatres labyrinth is intended as a means for people who could not travel all the way to Jerusalem to make a type of pilgrimage.
Walking the labyrinth is a type of prayer, and Fr. Lee offered a method to consider using during the weekend. He suggested that we think of all the things we worried about as we entered the labyrinth - just go through the whole laundry list of things that troubled us, all the people we were concerned for, and so on. Then, at the center of the labyrinth, we were to let go of those worries, and let God have them. He suggested we spend a few moments at the center in silence. Then, we were to exit the labryinth in silence, actively listening for God's direction in relation to those worries or concerns.
Part of my spiritual discipline has been Breath Prayer, which is a Christianized form of meditation: one choses a phrase of scripture that is meaningful to use as a mantra, and repeats it over and over for several minutes. The Jesus Prayer - "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner" - is perhaps the best known. For 25 years, my breath prayer has been, "Lord Jesus, make me whole."
About this time last year, it was suggested to me that it might be time to choose a new mantra. So, I've kept my heart open to the possibility.
The weekend's theme was "Be still and know [that] I am God" (Ps 46:10). So, after I spent my quiet time at the center of the lawn labyrinth, I decided to focus on that phrase.
I divided it more or less in half: "Be Still" (right step) "and know that I am God" (left step). As you see, the phrase is somewhat out of balance.
After having walked several courses of the labyrinth, I arrived at a more concise and balanced mantra: "Be still / and know God". That felt right.
That felt like an appropriate corrective for a person who had been very concerned about whether other drivers were driving the speed limit. It felt right for a person who had to consciously "shift" into idle in the food line. It felt exactly right for a person whose thoughts seem to fly in fifty different directions at once.
Be Still.
And Know God.Which has gotten me to wondering what I expect of the clergy at my church, and what might be reasonable to expect from clergy.
I probably should begin by saying that I am probably not a typical pew-sitter. I dated Elsie, a UMC minister, for a little over a year. Through her, I was given the opportunity to see life from the other side of the pulpit - so to speak. I am also very active in my church - I serve on the church board, and on a state-wide Christian Education Board. None of this makes me better than any other pew-sitter; it simply gives me a perspective another church member might not have.
It seems to me that when we talk about the expectations we have for a clergy person, we are talking about their job description. And because the clergy work for the church, understanding their job description involves understanding what the church's job is.
Several years ago, Deacon Gayle shared what she perceived to be the dominant models of a church today: either a lighthouse or an trauma ward.
Members of a lighthouse church have limited interaction with the outside world. The church serves as a beacon in a dark world. The best way to preserve that beacon is for the church to be as separate and distinct from the world as possible. The minister's primary function, as lighthouse keeper, is to preserve the tradition, and to shield the congregation from mundane concerns (e.g., heating bills, national or church politics, etc).
People who attend a trauma ward church are people who have been wounded in a variety of ways. Their wounds may be from life, or from experience in a different church. In this type of church, the minister is a sort of primary care physician who guides her parishioners to health. Ideally, these parishioners will then minister to in-coming wounded people, but this is often not the case. The woundedness of others can be over-whelming, and it's easy to perceive this sort of ministry as belonging solely to the ordained clergy.
Which leads me to a third model, a sort of ideal: the church as a sort of vo-tech for lay ministers. In this model, the minister's job would be to help lay people to discern their individual gifts (what the Apostle Paul calls chrisms), then to empower those lay people to exercise those gifts within the institutional church. As Paul says, some have the gift of preaching, some the gift of healing, and so on.
The tendency is for church members to expect their pastor to do it all. The minister is expected to be an excellent administrator, a superb worship leader, a compassionate listener, and so on. But the clergy person is a human being, limited in much the same ways as the members of her congregation. I believe it is healthiest for the ministry to be shared - as much as feasible and practical - among the whole congregation.
This notion of "shared ministry" is not new (e.g., Stephen Ministry); but it is not universally (or consistently) practiced.
If the minister's chief function is discernment and empowerment, as I suggest, what else might we reasonably expect from her?
It seems reasonable to seek the minister during significant life transitions - birth, marriage, loss of a loved one, and so on. It seems reasonable to seek one's minister when one is in crisis.
This second point is tricky - for how does one legitimately define "crisis"? After all, if it is happening to me, and I am in pain, it seems like the most important thing in the world at that moment. I would suggest a rule of thumb which, admittedly, requires a decree of honest detachment: if a friend called me at 2 a.m. with this problem, would I think it really was a crisis?
If my honest answer to that question is "no", then odds are that it is not a crisis, and it does not require the minister's immediate attention. This does not diminish the reality of my need or pain. It's still appropriate for me to call the minister during regular office hours to make an appointment to speak with her.
A common concern has to do with what might call superficial matters; that is, questions of worship style, candle placement, hymn choice (or tempo), and so on. You might miss the worship style of your former church. You might prefer the music to be slower, or faster, depending on your history or singing ability.
I don't recall that I have expressed this sort of concern to my minister. But I think it's appropriate to express your preferences. It seems to me a means of building a relationship with your minister. However, there is a difference between expressing a preference and complaining.
The bottom line is that your minister is a human being, and the Golden Rule applies as much to your minister as it does to the person sitting next to you. Respect your minister's time. Expect your minister to take care of herself. If a clergy person does not minister to herself, she will eventually lose the ability to minister to her church members.
In the shared ministry model, you are called to minister to your pastor in a way similar to how she ministers to you. You minister to her by respecting her time, and empowering her to take care of herself (e.g., required vacations and/or paid sabbaticals).
The past three nights have been marked by early morning sleeplessness, followed by insomnia, then by tiredness through the day. Predictably, my temper has been short, and my patience has not been as indulgent as I should like.The primary lie, of course, is our "War on Terror". A high school freshman would understand that you cannot, in the traditional sense, have a war on a tactic. Yet, the majority of our customers have accepted this term without question. The coining of this phrase was genius: the word "war" generates feelings of patriotism such that few question motives or actions until it is too late. The word "terror" naturally generates fear, and people will accept any number of measures on the premise those actions will keep them safe.
Speaking of which, we have also been successful in selling the lie that we can keep people safe. There was a decline in consumer confidence following the response to Katrina, but that was restored through a personnel change.
We are successfully selling the lie that ours is a robust economy. This board of stockholders posseses 90% of our corporate wealth, although we represent 10% of the population. Eventually, the lowest classes will return to their proper status as serfs, and the middle class will cease to exist. And although even I can do the math, our customers still vote against their own self-interest.
We have sold the idea that "democracy" is an unqualified good, which can be easily exported to any country, regardless of its traditions, history, or customs. Thus, we can claim success when so-called democratic elections occur in Afganistan, Iraq, and in the Palestinian terrorities - even though the outcomes are contrary to long-term democratic interests.
Speaking of the Iraqi election, isn't great that our customers believe this was a fair and lawful election? Nevermind that the Geneva Convention does not recognize elections held under an occupying force. We only recognize the world community when it suits the goals of our shareholders.
We have not been as successful in communicating overall success in Iraq. I propose that we stop listing any dead, and refuse to ship bodies home until the conclusion of the Iraq conflict, or the end of our reign - whichever comes first.
Most of our customers believe I have the right to conduct wiretaps as I see fit, without even the semblance of oversight. This testifies to the success of our fear and patriotism advertising campaign.
We must maintain, and escalate, this fear and patriotism campaign if we hope to distract our customers. We must not allow any but the most negligible fringe from recognizing that this board of shareholders is seizing control of the corporation, and is in the process of selling its resources to the highest bidder.
In conclusion, our cloud of lies have been extremely successful. We must continue to build on them, and seize every opportunity to reinforce them. In this way, we shall realize a successful third quarter.
We move forward – optimistic about our corporation, faithful to this board of shareholders, and confident of the profits to come.
May God bless our corporation.Staying in the present with others in this way can be difficult: it exposes our inner thoughts and feelings and can be revealing and embarrassing. It does not confirm our versions of who we are, the way discussion of the past and future does. So group members tend to fall away from addressing each other intimately, from revealing their inner thoughts and feelings about each other. They slip into storytelling about events, problems, successes, regrets, worries, hopes and fears outside the present moment, or they try to change each other's behavior to make it more congenial to themselves. Mental health care practitioners call the ways we avoid the present "resistances." Buddhists refer to them as "habitual patterns." Hyman Spotnitz called them "mistakes in time," signifying that we apply a lesson – appropriate behavior learned in the past – inappropriately in the present. As we live them out again and again, they deaden us to the power and intimacy of the present moment.
Trungpa Rinpoche taught that we have not "met our emotions properly" because our habitual patterns insulate us from them. He said that, instead, we are continually either "repressing or acting out our emotions," and that both are ways of getting rid of them and resisting the often uncomfortable reality of the living moment. In a similar vein, Lou calls the work of group "emotional education." The idea is, first, to be aware of one's emotions (not an easy task), and then to put them into words instead of denying or acting on them. One of Lou's slogans is, "Observe it; don't fix it," an instruction appropriate to meditation practice as well as group psychotherapy.
— John Baker, "All Together in the Present", Shambhala Sun, January 2006, 68-75.
