Spoor of the Starfish

FIE ON FEBRUARY!

2009-02-24T23:30:00.002-05:00

I surrender! I’ve had enough of winter! I’m ready for spring!

It doesn’t help a bit that it’s February, and 20°F this morning. That’s downright cold for North Carolina. But last week I did order some new raspberry bushes, to be delivered when it’s a bit warmer.

It doesn’t help a bit that it’s the shortest month, when we’re having the longest, darkest nights.

It doesn’t help a bit that the hardest-hitting holidays – Thanksgiving, Christmas, Chanukka, Kwanzaa – are all bundled up together and over with, and now we’re looking right at … Lent. The winter of the church calendar. AAARGH!, as the “Peanuts” characters would lament.

And you should see the Valentine I made this year. No hearts. No flowers. No expression of heartfelt love.

A rhinoceros. Well, it made sense to my friend Carolyn (near Dallas, TX). She responded with a story from her Girl Scout days, when her adult leader sent her a card with a picture of a rhino flying point for a V of geese. It said not to question leadership. Great connection.

But you can have February.

Let there be March!

Or better still, April! April, Sweet April!

WHAT’S IT ALL ABOUT, ALFIE?

2009-02-24T00:12:00.001-05:00

Well that’s basically what a friend was asking this week. What difference have I made? What mark have I made in this world? What will I be remembered for? What have I done with my many years of life? What have I achieved?

I think she was really asking that old question from childhood: What will I be when I grow up? And that brings up other questions: How will I know when I’m grown up? Do I have to grow up? Do I really want to grow up?

But back to the original question: What difference have I made?

I remember reading somewhere that the ocean doesn’t care whether you take some water with a bucket or a cup. What matters is what you do with the water. And whether you enjoy the ocean. Perhaps the question isn’t what difference have I made but what difference have I experienced.

In last year’s Anglican “Lambeth Conference,” a number of African words were shared with us westerners. “Indaba” groups is a Zulu word for meetings where significant questions are worked through in a community, and the Zulu word "ubuntu", translated as "humanity to others", describing the ubuntu philosophy: "I am what I am because of who we all are," the call to community and communion.

So I wonder if maybe that significance question might best be explored in community. What am I a part of? Who am I linked to? What are we doing together which takes us well beyond the “me” to “we.”

Another way of looking at it is to consider what we are becoming as we live in this world. I met the “be perfect” verse (Matthew 5:48 “Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father who is in heaven is perfect.”), when I was about 11, Lutheran, in a boarding school in India, dominated by American Baptists who just deleted this verse with their perpetual “nobody’s perfect” attitude. (Being 11 and away from home and among these very different theologies, I encountered the kind of challenge to my own beliefs that most people meet in college. It was, to say the least, very strenuous for an 11-year-old.) A good little Lutheran child, I had been nurtured with the principle of sola scriptura ("by scripture alone"), so I wasn’t content to dismiss the encouragement to be perfect.

So, I climbed a tree and took my Bible along to read and think. And I noticed that we were told to be perfect as God is perfect. It was all too clear to me that I wasn’t being told I should be as perfect as God is. Then I thought, “Oh! God is perfect as God; I’m to be perfect as me.

Then in my adult scripture study, I learned from a commentary that the Greek word that the translators interpreted as “perfect” actually means “brought to full bloom,” “perfected.”

So now I don’t think so much about what I’ll be when I grow up, but about what it is that I’m growing into, what I’m becoming, not about what I’ve achieved, but about coming to full blossom.

Well, Alfie, do you think maybe that’s what it’s all about?

SAINT ANNE’S LENTEN INVESTMENT PROJECT, 2008

2008-03-13T22:17:00.005-04:00

I got locked out of my blog! And I just wiggled my way back in! Just in time to share my Lent Project!

My church (St. Anne's Episcopal) does a nifty thing at Lent. We do a Lenten Investment Project. The church gives anyone willing $10.00 as seed money. Each year during Lent, various ones of us take that, add to it and do something to raise money for our outreach ministries. Each family does whatever they want to do. Bake cookies, sell crafts and arts (we have an accomplished potter and two excellent artists), sell "tickets" for babysitting, to do yardwork, dog wash, car wash, have an afternoon tea, etc. And those who don't raise the money, contribute.
This year I'm making and selling earrings (leverbacks and clip-ons). They’re all silver charms. I have four designs: Peace Wheel, Sand Dollar, Treble Clef, Acorn.
Why an acorn? Here in NC, the acorn is our symbol for New Year’s. Raleigh, the NC state capital, is the “City of Oaks.” Commissioned for the city's bicentennial in 1992 and crafted by sculptor David Benson, The Acorn (1,250 pounds of copper and steel) is hoisted from its post on a crane on New Year’s Eve and dropped (like NY’s glitzy ball) with appropriate count-down to mark the first instant of our new year. It’s much more meaningful than a glitzy ball! The promise of new life, symbol of good luck in Germany. the potential for great power in a small but potent package, a perfect symbol for power, fertility, and survival, often a symbol of patience and the fruition of long, hard labor. To keep this from getting out of hand, I'm only making about 10 of each design. 40 days, 40 earrings.

SIGN(S) OF JONAH

2007-11-14T11:54:00.000-05:00

Gospel, Daily Office Readings, 15 November 2007

Matthew 16:1-12 (NRSV)

1 The Pharisees and Sadducees came, and to test Jesus they asked him to show them a sign from heaven. 2 He answered them, "When it is evening, you say, 'It will be fair weather, for the sky is red.' 3 And in the morning, 'It will be stormy today, for the sky is red and threatening.' You know how to interpret the appearance of the sky, but you cannot interpret the signs of the times. 4 An evil and adulterous generation asks for a sign, but no sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah." Then he left them and went away.

Having been a little kid at the beach, I have a very early memory of the folk-wisdom: "Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning. Red sky at night, sailor's delight." When I lived in the mountains of Pennsylvania, I learned that if the air had a nip to it and the clouds were dark and flat on the bottom, we were in for snow. And I have learned here in NC that if we have fog on a summer morning, even if the weatherman chants his daily mantra, "Chance of afternoon and evening thundershowers," we're not going to get them, not that day. So, I get Jesus' point: Read the signs, and not just the weather signs, God's signs.

And Jesus names one of God's signs as the "Sign of Jonah." Well, the big-fish story prevails, so the most-readily named sign of Jonah is that he was in the belly of the fish for three days and came forth, just as Jesus would be in the tomb three days and be resurrected. But for me, Jonah has another sign: the useful if grumpy prophet. He's grumpy a lot. He doesn't want to go to Nineveh; grumble, grumble, run away. He doesn't like it that the Ninevites repented (because of his own preaching, mind you); grumble, grumble, go sit out in the sun. Then God causes a vine to grow, and it provides him shade, but then the worm eats it, and it withers, and he's exposed to the sun again; grumble, grumble, gripe and complain. (To the pessimist, the Sign of Jonah is that there's always a worm in everything. Anybody we know?) But back to Jonah, the Grumpy Prophet: even a grumpy prophet is useful in prompting Nineveh's forgiveness. I guess we get to choose which Sign of Jonah we'll live by: the Sign of the Big Fish, the Sign of Jonah's Worm, or the Sign of the Grumpy Prophet. To me, the Sign of the Grumpy Prophet is a lot more pertinent to my spirituality, at least for now.

YOUR BOOK

2007-10-27T09:13:00.000-04:00

I'm so glad you're writing your book.

No, you squeak, No way!
I have nothing but blank paper and empty notebooks.
I wouldn't know how to begin.

I'm so glad you're writing your book.

Oh, not me. I have no notes,
No outline, no quaint anecdotes.
I don't have anything of interest to say.

I'm so glad you're writing your book.

You are, you know, by every word you say
and everywhere you go, the lives you touch,
And the dreams you dream.

I'm so glad you're writing your book.

I've read some of its chapters
As you've shared your life with me.
I'm so glad you're writing your book.

I'm so glad you're writing your book.

INDEPENDENCE DAY

2007-07-05T10:14:00.000-04:00

OK, I survived Independence day without undue trauma. You see, I just can't stand fireworks. Simulated warfare just dampens my spirits. So, while the rest of the country enjoys their fireworks, I seek out something else of meaning. Thoreau helped. “The Writer’s Almanac” recalled July 4 as the anniversary of the day (in 1845) that Henry David Thoreau moved into his little one-room cabin at Walden Pond. He stayed 2 years, 2 months and two days. So, I spent Independence Day with that very independent man, ignored the fireworks (as much as my two irritated dogs would allow), and had a lovely day of quiet thought: I collected pictures and quotations. I selected these to think on:

Walden Pond, Concord, Mass.

“Things do not change; we change.”
- Henry David Thoreau, Walden

“What people say you cannot do, you try and find that you can.”
- Henry David Thoreau

“We must have infinite faith in each other. If we have not, we must never let it leak out that we have not.”
- Henry David Thoreau

“Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplify, simplify.”
- Henry David Thoreau

“If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.”
- Henry David Thoreau

“[People] are born to succeed, not fail.”
- Henry David Thoreau

“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you've imagined. As you simplify your life, the laws of the universe will be simpler.”
- Henry David Thoreau

“Goodness is the only investment that never fails.”
- Henry David Thoreau, Walden: Higher Laws, 1854

“If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.”
- Henry David Thoreau, Walden, Conclusion, 1854

"A lake is the landscape's most beautiful and expressive feature. It is Earth's eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature."
- Henry David Thoreau, Walden, 9. The Ponds

MEMORY OF ROME: ST. PETER'S TOE

2007-06-11T19:44:00.000-04:00

My friend Joan is in Rome. She’s attending a family wedding. She is Roman Catholic, so she is also on pilgrimage. There less than a day, she wrote to our e-mail list naming some of the places she has already seen. And she set my memory to flight.

It was 50 years ago last month that I was in Rome. My parents and I were on the way home from India. We flew from 120°F Bombay to 64°F Rome. And froze, for at least a week! We took the guided tours for a few days: Saint Peters, the Coliseum, the Palatine Museum, the Forum, etc. And then we established a pattern of arising early in the morning (along with the German Lutheran Deaconesses, at whose convent we were staying) and taking a bus to the outskirts of town. Then we’d spend the day working our way from one place of interest to the next, coming back into the center of the city. So, with Joan’s trip as my prompt, I’ve been reliving the city on the seven hills. It surprises me that although I was much impressed by the magnitude of the major tourist attractions, some of the small things of the city still warm my heart.

In Saint Peter’s Cathedral is a rather ordinary (amid the masterpieces) statue of Saint Peter, called Saint Peter Enthroned. One would ordinarily react to it with a blaze “Ho-hum” attitude, except for Old Pete’s right foot. It has been caressed and kissed by millions of pilgrims, and the toes and front of the sandal are very worn.

In the northwestern corner of the nave sits the statue of St. Peter Enthroned, attributed to late 13th century sculptor Arnolfo di Cambio (with some scholars dating it back to the 5th century). The foot of the statue is eroded due to centuries of pilgrims kissing it.

This statue still stands out in my memory. It’s sure not rememberable among the biggies: Michelangelo’s David and Moses, the ceiling of the Sistine chapel, all those ancient buildings… It’s not that it’s such a remarkable statue, but that the impulsive fisherman-apostle is loved with such deep and tangible devotion.

I am jolted by how much more it is worn away now than it was in 1957! My mom was the one who always read the guidebooks the night before we visited places of interest. She had on her list that she wanted to see the statue of St. Peter with his big toe worn away. And actually, nearly all the toes on his right foot were showing wear, but mostly the big toe. Now the wear is all over the distal end of his right foot, and even some wear shows on his left foot. My, what devotion that signifies! No wonder this statue is indelibly imprinted on my teenaged memory!

PENTECOST 2007

2007-05-24T10:40:00.000-04:00

The first gift given to the brand new baby church was the gift of all languages.

Acts 2:4 All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. 5 Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. 6 And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. 7 Amazed and astonished, they asked, "Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? 8 And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? 9 Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, 10 Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, 11 Cretans and Arabs, in our own languages we hear them speaking about God's deeds of power."

This was not the gift of tongues speaking a heavenly language. This was the gift of all languages of the people of earth. The disciples could be understood by people from all over the world, in each language that was needed. This ought to give us in the 21st century a hint that since the first gift given to the church was understandable communication, that we are called to talk with each other in a spirit of loving fellowship. Whatever differences we have, we have an obligation to sit down together and speak each other’s language. “When in Rome,” you not only “do as the Romans do,” if you want to be understood, you “speak as the Romans speak,” as much as possible in their language. So, when there are differences in our international Communion, the first thing the Spirit calls us to do is to communicate with each other gently and courteously and continue to walk together in the work of the Kingdom. And when there are differences in our diocese or in our parishes, we need to come together and communicate peacefully and in loving partnership in daily ministry. Having differences is no excuse. We are called from the first moment of our existence as church to listen and talk to each other, that we may walk together in the footsteps of Christ.

My new, homemade Pentecost t-shirt, printed front & back.

MORNING COFFEE PRAYER

2007-04-11T08:19:00.000-04:00

EASTER 2007

2007-04-07T08:54:00.000-04:00

Love from Michael

SAINT PATRICK'S DAY, 2007

2007-03-17T10:25:00.000-04:00

A PSALM OF MOTHER-LOVE AND CHILDISH FEARS

2007-01-25T22:07:00.000-05:00

A psalm of mother-love and childish fears: An original psalm in response to today's Morning Prayer readings (Isa. 49: 13- 23, Gal. 3: 1- 14, Mark 6: 30- 46)

My God, how like a mother you are,
that you have known and named and loved us
even before we were born.
Like a mother you have nurtured us, every one,
from your own body: your substance, your essence,
making us all related through our birth in your love.
Namasté, we greet each other,
greeting that of God which is in every creature and creation.

You care for us most lovingly,
preparing for us in the arms of the natural world
a bounty of all that we need to survive;
surrounding us with loving friends and family,
wise leaders (although some become so foolish in the flush of power --
forgive them, and us that we do not oppose their folly),
and prophets who speak your word,
even if we do give them a hard time for their efforts.

I have seen your love and mercy,
I have heard your voice,
I have felt your touch
and smelled your earthy presence beside me.
Yet fearful and ashamed of my childish faults,
I have turned away and hidden my face
in my own preoccupations.
I have denied your goodness by refusing it.
I have diluted your love with my worries and preoccupations.
I have stupidly put myself in the forefront of my thoughts.

Save me from my multitude of peccadilloes,
Let me not worship them by giving them my time and energy.
Show me that you can accept and use my flaws and weaknesses
just as easily as you can use my strengths and talents.
Now that's a humbling thought!

God our mother, hold us close
when we wake and as we sleep.
Feed us generously --
with the bread and fish you have provided
and which now you have received from our hands
and blessed and multiplied --
that we might share in your life by caring for one another.
Take us by the hand and walk with us,
for we know that you will take us
farther than we have ever imagined.

Selah. And amen.

FAVORITE CHRISTMAS GIFT

2006-12-21T16:07:00.000-05:00

My friend Claudia sent me a Christmas questionnaire to fill out. One question (13. Do you remember your favorite gift?) prompted a fun memory.

My favorite and most memorable Christmas gift was given to me more than 10 years ago. It was Christmas Day, the day after my 2nd back surgery, and Diane Thornton, contralto and then-member of Saint Anne's choir, brought me cookies in the hospital. I said, Nice, thank you, but I want another gift from you: to sing Christmas carols together. And we sure did. Those of you who remember Diane can also remember the rich timbre of her singing voice -- absolutely marvelous to harmonize with! We had a great time, taking turns selecting carols to sing from memory. As you can imagine, we were thoroughly engrossed in the moment. Then a uniformed nurse about the size and shape of a professional wrestler came bustling into my room. Diane and I cringed in abject apology for being too loud. The nurse laughed us to silence and shanghaied us to sing for an elderly man whose room was down the hall, around two corners and in another wing (a very long walk for me!) In the three months he had been in the hospital, his only visitor had been his wife. She was with him on that Christmas day. And Diane and I started all over again, singing carols they requested and sang along with. It was an absolutely unforgettable gift/experience! I will never forget Diane's precious gift of self. And her cookies were delicious.

2006 MERRY CHRISTMAS

2006-12-10T14:00:00.000-05:00

SOMETHING IN LIFE GIVES US WINGS (EXPLORERS' CARDS 29 -- LAST IN SERIES)

2006-09-08T20:05:00.000-04:00

IMAGINATION NEEDS MOODLING (EXPLORERS' CARDS 28)

2006-08-31T12:58:00.000-04:00

LIVING ON ASHES (EXPLORERS' CARDS 27)

2006-08-31T11:34:00.000-04:00

ANGELS WITH BUT ONE WING (EXPLORERS' CARDS 26)

2006-08-31T11:31:00.000-04:00

WE MUST SAIL, NOT DRIFT. (EXPLORERS' CARDS 25)

2006-08-31T11:26:00.000-04:00

TRIP OVER THE TRUTH (EXPLORERS' CARDS 24)

2006-08-31T11:22:00.000-04:00

HAPPY CHILDHOOD NOW (EXPLORERS' CARDS 23)

2006-08-05T09:22:00.000-04:00

CASTLES IN THE AIR (EXPLORERS' CARDS 22)

2006-08-03T12:55:00.000-04:00

SALT WATER (EXPLORERS' CARDS 21)

2006-08-01T00:29:00.000-04:00

MOVING CLOUDS/MOVING MOUNTAINS (EXPLORERS' CARDS 20)

2006-07-31T12:39:00.000-04:00

THE NEED TO BE SURE (EXPLORERS' CARDS 19)

2006-07-29T23:12:00.000-04:00

PLAYFULNESS (EXPLORERS' CARDS 18)

2006-07-29T11:41:00.000-04:00

LIVING FOR THE FAITH (EXPLORERS' CARDS 17)

2006-07-26T11:25:00.000-04:00

THE SOUL'S RAINBOW (EXPLORERS' CARDS 16)

2006-07-26T11:22:00.000-04:00

LIFE IS A WILD TIGER (EXPLORERS' CARDS 15)

2006-07-26T11:19:00.000-04:00

PHILOSOPHER AND PLUMBER (EXPLORERS' CARDS 14)

2006-07-15T10:43:00.000-04:00

EVERYTHING COUNTS (EXPLORERS' CARDS 13)

2006-07-15T10:40:00.000-04:00

GOD, THE GREAT LAUGHTER (EXPLORERS' CARDS 12)

2006-07-14T17:53:00.000-04:00

OPEN LIPS, OPEN EARS (EXPLORERS' CARDS 11)

2006-07-14T17:49:00.000-04:00

THE WELL IS WITHIN (EXPLORERS' CARDS 10)

2006-07-14T06:54:00.000-04:00

THE BODY, THE TEMPLE (EXPLORERS' CARDS 9)

2006-07-13T08:23:00.000-04:00

CAVERN ANGEL: "DON'T TELL" (EXPLORERS' CARDS 8)

2006-07-13T08:19:00.000-04:00

See with your soul! (EXPLORERS' CARDS 7)

2006-07-13T08:17:00.000-04:00

I WILL BE A TOAD (EXPLORERS' CARDS 6)

2006-07-12T05:02:00.000-04:00

FETCH AND CARRY WATER (EXPLORERS'CARDS 5)

2006-07-12T05:00:00.000-04:00

OUT ON A LIMB (EXPLORERS' CARDS 4)

2006-07-12T04:56:00.000-04:00

DOGMA (EXPLORERS' CARDS 3)

2006-07-11T09:23:00.000-04:00

LET US SING (EXPLORERS'CARDS 2)

2006-07-11T09:18:00.000-04:00

MUSIC AND CATS (EXPLORERS' CARDS 1)

2006-07-11T09:03:00.000-04:00

AGAPÉ, THE LOVE THAT MUST BE A PART OF OUR MINISTRY

2006-06-01T20:42:00.000-04:00

If ministry is not rooted in love of our fellow creatures, is it ministry? That sounds sort of like, “If a tree falls in the forest and there’s no one there to hear it, is there a sound?” If ministry is performed without love, _is_ it ministry?

In Bread for the Journey, Henri Nouwen writes:
“Care is something other than cure. Cure means “change.” A doctor, a lawyer, a minister, a social worker -- they all want to use their professional skills to bring about changes in people’s lives. They get paid for whatever kind of cure they can bring about. But cure, desirable as it may be, can easily become violent, manipulative, and even destructive if it does not grow out of care. Care is being with, crying out with, suffering with, feeling with. Care is compassion. It is claiming the truth that the other person is my brother or sister, human, mortal, vulnerable, like I am.
“When care is our first concern, cure can be received as a gift. often we are not able to cure, but we are always able to care. To care is to be human.” (Feb. 8)

There are many so-called experts on love. The author who has paid special attention to agapé love is C. S. Lewis, in his book, The Four Loves. He makes a distinction between “Need-Love” and “Give-Love.” He points out that “Need-Love” is when we love out of our own need to help, to nurture, to give. And he says that “Need-Love” is very much a part of our “Give-Love,” which is a selfless love, a love that is unconditional and free and full. It’s when “Need-Love” stands alone that it is unhealthy and unnatural. It has to be balanced with “Give-Love.” By recognizing our “Need-Love,” we nurture and renew ourselves, even as we often deplete ourselves by expending our “Give-Love.”

A wise and practical saint, Evelyn Underhill, says, “You must receive and go on receiving, if you are going to give and go on giving.”

What C. S. Lewis would have us receive is the nurture that comes from loving. Henri Nouwen would call it care. Whatever you call it, it’s what prevents -- or at least postpones -- burnout in ministry. It’s what makes ministry “ministry,” not just do-gooding.

I’d like to close with two rather unconventional -- and very brief -- prayers. You’ll note that these were written by authors who would never consider themselves to be spiritual writers.

Let us pray with them:

Dear God, I say to myself, remind us to pay attention.”
-- May Sarton

“Teach us to care and not to care. Teach us to sit still.”
-- George Eliot

Amen.

Notes on The Four Loves, C. S. Lewis

According to C.S. Lewis, there are four main loves: affection, friendship, eros and charity. The foundations of the four loves are what he calls the need love and gift love. In order to understand the four loves, one has to understand the need love and the gift love. The need love is that we have a "craving" to be loved, we have a need that needs to be fulfilled. Lewis states that "man's love for God, from the very nature of the case, must always be very largely, and must often be entirely, a need love" (3). On the other hand God is the divine gift. His gift of the son for the atonement of our sins was the ultimate gift. It is through the relationship of the need love and gift love that we are able to have affection, friendship, eros and charity.

Gift love is the foundation of all loves. It was Christ's sacrifice, and gift to us that allows us to need his love. Lewis says that "divine love is gift love. The Father gives all He is and has to the Son. The Son gives Himself back to the Father and gives himself to the world"(1). By giving Himself to the world, Christ was also giving himself up to God. It was an act of love that allowed him to hang on a cross and die for our saving grace. It was the act, the gift of death that gave us love.

Need love is that "we are born helpless. As soon as we are fully conscious we discover loneliness. We need others physically, emotionally, intellectually; we need them if we are to know anything, even ourselves" (2). This need of love makes us search out things in others that will help us to understand ourselves and fulfill our needs of being loved.

"Affection can love the unattractive and it gives itself no airs. Affection does not expect too much, turns a blind eye to faults, revives easily after quarrels; just so charity suffers long and is kind and forgives. Affection opens our eyes to goodness we could not have seen, or should not have appreciated without it" (37). Affection is both a need love and a gift love. We need to be nurtured and we need the affection of others. In the same way we also give our affection to those around us.

"Friendship arises out of mere companionship when two or more of the companions discover that they have in common some insight or interest which the others do not share and which, till that moment, each believed to be his own unique treasure or burden" (65). Friendships are not threatened when another person is suddenly a part of the group. It does not get jealous when another shares a mutual friend. Friends share the same truths and commonality between them.

"By eros I mean of course that state which we call "being in love;" or if you prefer, that kind of love which lovers are "in." The lover desires the Beloved himself, not the pleasure he can give" (91). The sexual desire is a sensory pleasure, whereas eros is the desiring of the beloved. Eros is the wanting of someone specific, it is the desire for a person as they are and not what the person may have to offer someone sexually. It is a connection on a level that goes beyond mere physical needs. It is the giving of the self for the Beloved.

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell" (121). Charity is the giving of ourselves for others and for God. It is the act of giving and sacrifice that we can love. It is being vulnerable and allowing ourselves to be wounded that we can freely give ourselves to loving others. Christ was the Charity and the Gift, and we are the receivers.

MISTAKES AND THE WAY OF THE WARRIOR

2006-05-17T16:43:00.000-04:00

God who is in us and among us always,

We thank you for setting us at tasks which demand our best efforts, and for leading us to accomplishments which satisfy and delight us.

We thank you also for those disappointments and failures that lead us to acknowledge our dependence on you alone.

Keep us close to you in love, so that we can come to you when we make our 30 to 50 mistakes each day, and walk in the way of the warrior. Amen.

CATCHING MONKEYS

2006-04-23T07:11:00.000-04:00

In India they catch monkeys by cutting a small hole in a gourd which is anchored to a tree or to the ground. The hole is just big enough for a monkey’s hand to slip through, and there is some food inside. No monkey can resist reaching in and grabbing the food, and of course when it does its clenched fist is too big to pull back through the hole again. So there the monkey is, stubbornly holding onto the food that isn’t doing it a bit of good, until someone comes along and puts the monkey in a sack. All the while it could have gotten free just by letting go.

Oh, poor monkey. Allow me to anthropomorphize, just a little. I imagine that the monkey is so proud of himself, having found a luscious fruit that nobody else knows about. “It’s mine, all mine,” the Silas Marner in him proclaims. We would hope that if a tiger or some other hungry predator came along, he’d let go and sail by leaps and bounds into the thin, high branches of a tall tree. But would he be quick enough? Or would greed hold him to the spot for that split second too long?

Am I that monkey? Am I consistently – or even occasionally -- grabbing and holding onto things or people or habits or thoughts that are holding me down and keeping me from moving on? What am I holding onto that keeps me from taking the next step on my path? What danger am I courting by holding on so fiercely? What will it take to enable me to let go?

THE HAGAR QUESTION, from Genesis 16:7

2006-04-22T19:41:00.000-04:00

“The angel of the Lord found Hagar by a spring of water in the wilderness, running away from Sarai [she of Abraham & Sarah]. And he asked her, ‘Where have you come from and where are you going?’”

In this story in Genesis 16, Hagar is in terrified flight from Sarai’s anger and jealousy. But this story has much food for thought for many of life’s journeys.

It always makes sense to get our bearings for the journey. We start with the past, which has impelled us on our way, “Where have you come from?” That includes both the place and your past experience, how life has touched you and shaped you.

Then we look ahead to where we're going, preparing with what we'll need to have along, planning how to travel, what routes to take, and where we'll need to stop, perhaps to hide. Or we meander along, smelling the roses or sniffing the fire hydrants.

Every journey is different. They can all get us to where we're going. Or not, if we wander off on another path. Where are you fleeing in terror, where are you traveling according to your plan, and where are you meandering? How goes your journey?

BugNUGgets: QUICK SWEETROLLS

2006-04-12T11:48:00.000-04:00

FOR WHEN YOU’RE DESPERATE
FOR SOMETHING SWEET
AND THE LARDER IS LACKING

1 package Crescent Rolls
a little soft margerine or softened butter
a little brown sugar
a hefty handful of raisins

Lay out triangles of dough one at a time, brushing each one lightly with margarine/butter, sprinkling the whole surface with brown sugar, arranging 8 or 10 raisins on the triangle, then rolling it up and sealing the edges together the best you can. Bake about 11 minutes or so. The “Nuggets” will be lumpy and bumpy, and the “bugs” (raisins) will try to escape out the ends. Pretty good when you’re out of something sweet.

May every day bring a tiny blessing of sweetness. That's all we need.

2006-04-10T08:38:00.000-04:00

ODE TO THE CAT IN THE MIRROR
or REFLECTION ON REFLECTION

O glorious feline in the mirror,
Thou art above all others fair,
so grand and of a beauty
forever rare.
Thy whiskers stretch as wide
as all the world I have seen.
Thine eyes glow with a life and light,
beyond any flame that ever has been.
Gorgeous thou art, beyond compare.
How I worship thee and would come close.
But where is there?
~ for Tiger, 31 August 2003

HAPPY EASTER 2006

2006-04-08T11:44:00.000-04:00

HELLO, THEOLOGIAN!

2006-04-01T10:14:00.000-05:00

No, don’t look around to see if I’m talking to somebody else. I mean you. And me. And him and her and us and them. We’re all theologians, every one of us. We always have been.

Theology is the study of God and religion. Although only a few of us go off to a formal seminary for schooling, we all live in a seminary of sorts. We live in a world made by the Creator, with people and animals designed by the Creator, and if we have any powers of observation we have noticed the rhythm, balance and order that is all around us. We’ve sensed the goodness of the earth, the grace and skills of animals, the intelligence and abilities of humans, the beauty of how it all fits together. And we’ve also taken notice of the risks. Anyway, whether we call it that or not, we all have a personal theology: a set of conclusions about that which is bigger than we are, based on personal experience – an empirical theology.

Empirical theology is inherently flawed. Your experience and my experience and everybody else’s experience is different, so our theologies will be different, limited by our own location, society and time. But don’t feel bad. All theologies have the same limitations. All theologies are flawed. All theologies seek the truth, and all of them find some of the truth, and no one theology finds all of the truth. Now, that’s a relief. It’s not required that we be completely right, just that we live gently in our world and pay attention.

It helps if we pay attention – not only to our surroundings but to each other. It helps if we share our theologies. And refine our theologies, broaden them and sharpen them and aim a bit deeper with them. And combine our theologies, finding the common ground that brings people together. By nature, theologies are flexible, malleable, elastic, pliable, supple; not – as some folks insist – set in stone. If theology had a theme song, I bet it would be “Getting to know you. Getting to know all about you.”

Theology is a verb, Theology is a process. Theology is a moving picture. Theology is a living entity, as much alive as we are. To try to nail it down (like a butterfly on a tack board) is to kill it, making further growth impossible. So the best thing to do is to treat theology like a boat: hop in, set your sail, take hold of the tiller and see where it takes you. May your journey be interesting and fun!

Bon voyage, Theologian!

KUDZU SYNDROME

2006-03-23T10:09:00.000-05:00

When a Pennsylvanian transplants to the American South, two features stand out in high contrast to past experience.

Barns aren’t painted. Having lived in close proximity to Pennsylvania Dutch country and eastern Pennsylvania’s horse- and dairy culture, I grew up with the perception that all of the nation’s (if not the world’s) barns and fences are painted – red, or white, respectively. Apparent fact: no, they aren’t.

And the other difference in the South is the abundance of a vine which seems to be subscribing frivolously to Glidden Paint’s philosophy, to “Cover the earth.” Kudzu. This plant was imported from Japan by the railroads some 75 years ago, to plant along their miles of track to prevent erosion. At the time, the Japanese told us that this plant knows no boundaries. To say it grows wild is an understatement; in the summer climate of the South it grows a foot (30 cm) in a day. In Georgia, legend has it that one must close up all the windows at night to keep kudzu from growing into the house. In the summers, vast areas of forest and field become a rich, verdant green, looking ever so healthy, although trees and bushes are smothered to compost underneath. Winters are deceptive. Kudzu loses all its leaves and turns a lifeless brown. All appearances aside, it is not dead but only sleeps. As soon as spring warms sufficiently, the kudzu awakens and picks up its knitting where it left off. Green leaves abound on all the undead tendrils, and it resumes its relentless growth across the landscape.

Now buffel grass has joined the club of invasive plants. Ecologists in the area of the Sonoran Desert, near Tucson, Arizona are doing battle with it, Buffel grass was imported from South Africa and planted in the desert to keep down erosion. (Where have we heard that before, eh?) Now it has spread beautifully, and it is contributing to the fire danger in that vulnerable climate. Buffel grass burns long and hot, killing everything with its raging flames, right down to the roots. So, armed with shovels and metal bars and threatening to resort to chemicals, hardy teams of well-intentioned warriors are attacking the buffel grass, hoping to eradicate it in the delicate ecosystem of Sonora.

The Kudzu Syndrome has three distinct stages.
Stage One: We solve a problem by introducing an element of a different origin, culture or ecosystem.
Stage Two: The Newcomer does what it was created to do.
Stage Three: Now it’s causing more problems than solutions, so The Newcomer – which we invited here – becomes a problem to be solved.

In our own lives we fall into the clutches of the Kudzu Syndrome when we start to tailor ourselves to the pattern dictated by others. This may be imposed from without, by a strong personality, or it may be intentionally sought, by a tender soul seeking security. One way or another we find that the Kudzu Syndrome is not a good fit for long, and we need to take up the tools of soul and spirit to weed out the invasive patterns. It’s not an easy task or painless, but it’s the only way back to an internal balance. Go get ‘em!

PLIMSOLL LINE

2006-03-19T10:35:00.000-05:00

I’m reading At Sea with God, by Margaret Silf (now out of print, but available in the UK), and in today’s reading, she introduced me to the Plimsoll Line. It’s a mark – a white line – on the outside of a boat’s hull, and if it’s loaded so this line sinks below the water mark, the boat is too heavily loaded and is in danger of sinking. Interestingly, it was devised in England in 1876 by Samuel Plimsoll, and it’s not just a single line but a series of lines, showing the level of the Plimsoll Line for various degrees of salinity and temperature. In warm, fresh water the Plimsoll Line is high; in cold salt water, it’s much lower, quite a span of tolerance.

Wouldn’t it be handy if one’s life had a Plimsoll Line, an alert to let us know when we were getting into something deserving caution. Or maybe we do have a built-in Plimsoll Line for life, equally sensitive to varying conditions and situations: our common sense. Now, to pay attention to it.

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY

2006-03-16T05:46:00.000-05:00

The top o' the day to ye!

ASH WEDNESDAY WILL NEVER BE THE SAME

2006-03-05T16:57:00.000-05:00

Ash Wednesday this year was delightful. I know: It's supposed to be solemn, reverent, penitential -- anything but a delight. But God's humor prevails even on fast days. Back at the end of January I wrote in my blog:
===
SATURDAY, JANUARY 28, 2006
STAR STUFF AND STARLIGHT

Scientist Carl Sagan said, “We are made of star stuff.” I love that. I’ve loved the idea since I first heard it, some years ago.

Well, it makes sense. What else would we be made of but the basic elements that make up the universe? . . .

Most of what I read about Sagan’s “star stuff” was way over my head, but I came upon a description of DNA as giving off light, and shedding more light when it was unwound. The author describes that swirl of light as functioning as a “tuning fork” for the body, striking a species-specific frequency to which all the body’s cells align.

Stars are made of the basic elements, and stars give off light. If we are indeed made of star stuff, I’d like to think that the light in our DNA is starlight, that the light of the universe is within us.

May starlight shine in all of us and give us hope.
===
===
That was written over a month ago, so I wasn't thinking about Star Stuff as I went forward in the Ash Wednesday service for the imposition of ashes. Then Hal (our priest) looked me squarely in the eye and said, "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." And I'm sure my expression suddenly glowed with delight. Not exactly what he might have been expecting, given the solemnity of his pronouncement. But you can imagine what I was thinking, "Yes! Star dust!" Ash Wednesday will never be the same for me.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

2006-02-14T23:18:00.000-05:00

OOOOH! INDIAN PIPE!

2006-02-05T05:44:00.000-05:00

I’m a van camper. Mine is not one of those elaborate camper vans with a lot of built-ins. It has a lot of throw-ins. But my dogs and I have had all manner of fun on one- and two-nighter camping trips, mostly to the mountains or the coast.

On one trip to the mountains, the weather was hot. Sultry. Downright suffocating, even in the shade. Behind my campsite was dense bush and tall trees. Surely it would be cooler back in there. I just hoped all the animal residents were snoozing through the heat of the day.

Taking my dachshund on her leash, I stepped gently into the shadows. Yes, the further we went into the dark shade, the cooler it felt. A moist, earthy smell surrounded us. It was as if we had traveled miles north, to a cooler, earlier time. Grass did not grow here. Limbs and small trees had been felled by lack of light. Clear brown earth stretched across under the darkening shade. And back where the shadow was nearly black, back against the thickest undergrowth, tiny white flowers hung majestically on white stems jutting up about six inches from the dark earth, winking against the darkness, yielding to the moving shadows.

Indian Pipe! Ooooh! Indian Pipe!

Without the blast-furnace of deep-summer heat, I would never have intruded so far off the beaten path and found those little chalk-white flowers. I wasn’t happy with that uncomfortable heat, but I was more than happy with my find.

The next day, as I left the campground, I asked the manager why she hadn’t put up a little sign at the campsite, pointing back into the shade, so more people could see the lovely little flowers. She knew her wilderness flora, that if everybody went back into the deep shade, pretty soon the undergrowth would pull back away from our foot traffic, and then the flowers would be gone. “Besides,” she added, “there’s something special about discovery.”

Wise lady. Right. There’s always something special about discovery.

KNOW DIETRICH? MEET MARIA!

2006-02-04T20:51:00.000-05:00

I grew up in a Lutheran church and attended the Lutheran church through my college years. So, the name of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German Lutheran pastor and theologian, is and always has been familiar to me. He was introduced as a theologian, scholar, anti-Nazi conspirator and martyr, a tragic martyr, because he was hanged in the concentration camp at Flossenbürg on April 9, 1945, just short of a month before the end of World War II in Europe (May 8, 1945). I have read three of his books: Life Together, The Cost of Discipleship and Letters and Papers from Prison.

Nobody had told me then what I learned today, that he was engaged just before his arrest by the Nazis. His fiancé was Maria von Wedermeyer (born April 23, 1924, died November 16, 1977.). To share more deeply of his imprisonment, she marked out with chalk an enclosure the size of his cell on her bedroom floor, so that she could write to him as though she were with him. In his final letter to her, Bonhoeffer wrote, "I have often found that the quieter my surroundings, the more vividly I sense my connection with you." He was executed a few months later. Bonhoeffer’s correspondence with her has been published as Love Letters from Cell 92.

The story of Maria’s death has a poignant twist to it. When Joseph and Mary Lou Bayley’s son was killed in a sledding accident, his fiancé sent them a poem written by Dietrich Bonhoeffer for New Year’s Day, 1945. Joseph included the poem in his book, Heaven.

This is the poem:

Powers of Good
By Dietrich Bonhoeffer

With every power for good to stay and guide me,
comforted and inspired beyond all fear,
I'll live these days with you in thought beside me,
and pass, with you, into the coming year.

The old year still torments our hearts, unhastening;
the long days of our sorrow still endure;
Father, grant to the souls thou hast been chastening
that thou hast promised, the healing and the cure.

Should it be ours to drain the cup of grieving
even to the dregs of pain, at thy command,
we will not falter, thankfully receiving
all that is given by thy loving hand.

But should it be thy will once more to release us
to life's enjoyment and its good sunshine,
that which we've learned from sorrow shall increase us,
and all our life be dedicate as thine.

Today, let candles shed their radiant greeting;
lo, on our darkness are they not thy light
leading us, haply, to our longed-for meeting? -
Thou canst illumine even our darkest night.

When now the silence deepens for our hearkening,
grant we may hear thy children's voices raise
from all the unseen world around us darkening
their universal paean, in thy praise.

While all the powers of good aid and attend us,
boldly we'll face the future, come what may.
At even and at morn God will befriend us,
and oh, most surely on each newborn day!

-- December 1944

Years later, Joseph got a letter from a pastor-friend in Massachusettes, telling that some years before, he had been visiting a terminally ill woman in a Boston hospital. He brought her a copy of Bayley’s book. The woman stayed up that night reading it. The next day, when the pastor visited, the woman told him how much the book had helped her. A few hours later she died. The woman was Maria von Wedermeyer Weller, Bonhoeffer’s fiancé of 30 years earlier.

I have ordered Love Letters from Cell 92: The Correspondence Between Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Maria Von Wedemeyer, 1943-45 by Ruth-Alice Von Bismarck (Maria’s sister), Ulrich Itz, Ulrich Kabitz (Editor) and the DVD of Bonhoeffer (2003) starring Eberhard Bethge, Klaus Maria Brandauer Director: Martin Doblmeier. I’d like to get to know this icon, this stylized giant, as a man of and among common people. And I’d like to “meet” Maria.

MEANDERER'S GENTLE MAPLE-APPLE CHICKEN SAUSAGE

2006-02-01T10:10:00.000-05:00

Over the past couple of years I've stopped liking sausage. It's too greasy and too strong in the seasonings. I tried vegetarian and didn't like that. So, I've been looking around and finally found a recipe for making sausage myself.

The first time I made it (following the recipe to all jots and tittles), there was one spice that seemed to me to be poking its elbows out -- too strong and not blending in with the other spices. A couple days ago I did a little revising of the recipe before cooking up a new batch, and Wow! Now I can make a gentle but tasty sausage. Now I can taste all the flavors. I really like it a lot! As you might guess, the apple and maple add so much!

Meanderer's Gentle Maple-Apple Chicken Sausage

1 tablespoon vegetable oil, 1 turn of the pan
1 tablespoon butter
1 pound ground chicken breast
1 small McIntosh apple peeled and finely chopped
1/4 cup pure maple syrup
3/4 tablespoon grill seasoning blend (recommended: Montreal Steak Seasoning by McCormick)
1/2 teaspoon poultry seasoning
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

Preheat a medium skillet over medium-high heat with 1 tablespoon oil and 1 tablespoon butter. Mix chicken with apple, syrup, grill seasoning, poultry seasoning, cinnamon and nutmeg and score the meat into 8 to 10 sections. Form thin, round patties and set into hot butter and oil. Cook 3 to 5 minutes on each side. Set on paper towel to drain excess grease.

Additional notes:
===***===
You can substitute unsweetened applesauce for the fresh apples.
===***===
If you use ground turkey:
I made 2 pounds, used 3 McIntosh apples and an extra 1/2 c. maple syrup, since turkey is so dry. Good stuff, but I like the chicken better.
===***===
I make the big Grands Biscuits to go with my sausage. So, to size my sausage patties for the biscuits, I use an ice cream scoop to plop the soggy sausage mixture into the frying pan.
===***===

Now that the flavors are nicely balanced, I’m surprised how much the combination of tastes is similar to the blending of sounds of an orchestra or a choir. One strident voice can unbalance all the others.

I have a feeling that there’s a deep, rich truth here: that any one overplayed factor – of anything -- can unbalance the whole – whatever. Any time. Anywhere. I bet we do that a lot.

CELTIC GROUNDHOG?

2006-01-30T08:50:00.000-05:00

I was reading something about Celtic spirituality and noticed again that St. Brigid’s Day is celebrated on February 2nd. That’s also Groundhog Day. Oh, how interesting! So, I did some looking around to find out more. It is not – as I had assumed – a coincidence that they are on the same day.

Groundhog Day comes but once a year, celebrated in the US and Canada, always on February 2nd,, with no Monday transference since it’s not a holiday. As immigrants populated Pennsylvania in the 1700s, they began to hold celebrations brought with them from the old country. In Germany, they had watched a badger for seeing his shadow, but Pennsylvania’s closest kin to a badger was a groundhog, so for predictions of spring they now watched a groundhog.

The custom, which became formalized in the US by 1841, is that when the designated groundhog emerges from his den on that auspicious day, if he sees his shadow (that is, if it’s sunny), there will be six more weeks of winter. If it’s cloudy and he doesn’t, then spring is just around the corner.

For most of us, the best known groundhog prognosticator is Punxsutawney Phil, of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. Purists would have it that he is the “real” and only official spring-predicting groundhog. But there are other little furry woodchucks (Marmota monax) who claim the status, too.

In the US:
Punxsutawney Phil - Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania
General Beauregard Lee - Atlanta, Georgia
Sir Walter Wally - Raleigh, North Carolina
Pee Wee - Mile Square, Vermont
Birmingham Bill - Birmingham, Alabama
Holland Huckleberry - Huckleberry, Ohio
Connecticut Chuckles – Manchester, Connecticut
Cloudy - Brookfield Zoo, Chicago
Pierre C. Shadeaux (the Cajun Groundhog) - New Iberia, Louisiana
Dixie Dan, Papa's Rainbow Farm, Mississippi
Octorara Orphie – Quarryville, in Eastern PA
Unadilla Bill - Unadilla, NE, "Groundhog Capital of Nebraska"
Metompkin Max - the Eastern Shore of Virginia (aka, the Delmarva peninsula)
Staten Island Chuck from the Staten Island Zoo, NY
Buckeye Chuck - Marion, Ohio,
French Creek Freddie - French Creek, West Virginia
Jimmy the Groundhog – “the OFFICIAL Groundhog from the one and only OFFICIAL Groundhog Capital of the World! Sun Prairie, Wisconsin”

And in Canada:
Wiarton Willie - Warton, Ontario,Canada (an albino groundhog, with white fur and pink eyes)
Shubenacadie Sam - Shubenacadie Provincial Wildlife Park (pronounced "Shoo-ben-ack-a-dee") near Halifax, Nova Scotia
Two Rivers Tunnel - Two Rivers Wildlife Park, Marion Bridge, NS

And undoubtedly, there must be more. People have too much fun with this!

Punxsutawney Phil's prognostications of spring have been correct only 39% of the time. Other groundhogs’ fans claim a perfect success rate, but I’m not ready to believe that.

I never questioned why groundhogs or why February 2nd. I had it all figured out, by assumption. Groundhogs are gentle little animals. They conveniently hibernate (and have a nice gentle emergence suited to a celebratory Coming-Out Party), and their birthing season begins in the early spring, making it necessary to terminate hibernation, emerge into the light and feed the family. Note: Light.

My reasoning was wrong. There’s more to it.

I am fascinated to find out that there is a link between Groundhog Day and Celtic spirituality. An ancient Celtic festival, the pagan celebration of Imbolc, the Day of Bride (aka Brigid, Brigit or Bridget), was on February 2nd. To the pre-Christian Celts, at this time of year the animal world began to stir from its winter sleep in the depths of earth, and life and light is ushered in by Brigid, the Queen. Light, again.

When Christianity gained sufficient foothold in Briton, the Church subsumed Imbolc, Christianizing it to celebrate the Purification of Mary, a handy 40 days after the birth of Jesus (December 25 to February 2 is 40 days). Actually, it used to be the Feast of the Circumcision, but we moderns are a bit squeamish about such, even though that’s what Scripture (Luke 2:25-40) describes, so we changed it to the Purification of Mary, which would have been the same day. And their being at the temple was the occasion of old Simeon proclaiming there that this baby was born to be “a light to lighten the gentiles.” Light, again.

This day is also called Candlemas, because an old Scripture reading for this festival contains the line (Zephaniah 1:12), "I will search Jerusalem with candles." So, on this day each member of the congregation carried a lighted candle in procession around the church, to be blessed by the priest. Candles: Light.

In Scotland an old couplet goes,
“If Candlemas Day is bright and clear,
there'll be two winters in the year.”
Light, again.

From Germany:
“For as the sun shines on Candlemas Day,
So far will the snow swirl in May..."
Light, again.

All of these -- Groundhog Day, Imbolc and Candlemas -- have to do with light and spring. Spring? Spring comes in mid-March, the 20th/21st,, not on February 2nd. Ah, but that is only on a calendar which begins the seasons as they relate to the equinoxes, the longest and shortest days of the year (the “Babylonian Seasons,”) which we use:
Spring begins March 20/21
Summer begins June 20/21
Autumn begins September 20/21
Winter begins December 21/22

As calculated by the Chinese, those are the midpoints of the seasons. On the Chinese calendar:
Spring begins February 3/4
Summer begins May 5/5
Autumn begins August 7/8
Winter begins November 6/7

Aha! With this calendar Groundhog Day is the day before spring: the ideal time for a prediction.

Obviously, following the weather-forecasting groundhogs, if they do not see their shadows and spring is fast upon us, we use the Chinese calendar of seasons, and if they see their little shadows and we’re in for six more weeks of winter, we switch to the Babylonian calendar of seasons.

But what would groundhogs or the ancient Celts know of Chinese and Babylonian calendars? I don’t know about the groundhogs, but for the Celts the Babylonian calendars are easier to trace. Originally, the Babylonian calendar was brought to northern Europe by the Romans.

It’s less likely that Chinese influence was brought to the Celts by soldiers or travelers. But we have some evidence of pre-Roman astronomy in Britain – the arrangement of stones at Stonehenge to observe events like the Solstices – so it may well be that the subsequent Celtic seasonal understanding, similar to the Chinese model, was devised by the old Celts themselves. That sounds reasonable, since there are surviving Celtic traditions (i.e., Irish and Gaelic) about Imbolc in February, Beltane in May, Lughnasadh in August, and Samhain in November, which coincide with the Chinese calendar of dates for beginning the seasons.

Are we ready for another possibility of independent thinkers in the mode of the Chinese seasonal calendar? There is speculation that some markings at the great Anasazi ruins in Chaco Canyon, New Mexico may suggest a corresponding interest in the mid-points between the Equinoxes and Solstices.

Ha! I love it! I love being freed from our static calendar that refuses to acknowledge the existence of an early spring. So, I shall join the groundhogs and according to the timing of spring, use both the Babylonian and Chinese formats – with a nod to the Celts and the Anaszi, of course. What fun! I’ll have a smile for all Groundhog Days to come!

Happy Groundhog Day, come February 2nd!

STAR STUFF AND STARLIGHT

2006-01-28T09:06:00.000-05:00

Scientist Carl Sagan said, “We are made of star stuff.” I love that. I’ve loved the idea since I first heard it, some years ago.

Well, it makes sense. What else would we be made of but the basic elements that make up the universe? We are a part of creation, and actually, a pretty insignificant part. We’re vastly outnumbered by the insects, outsized by many mammals, reptiles and fish, raced into the ground by so many swift creatures that we can’t count them, and we can’t hold a candle to the beauty of a common violet sprung up in the back yard.

It’s laughable when we humans see ourselves as the “crowning glory” of creation. I wonder if it’s not more likely that we were an afterthought. But there is something special about us human animals, more special than our handy opposable thumbs, more impressive than our skills with language. I think it’s that we have a unique capacity for compassion. We can extend ourselves beyond self, for the good of another. We have that innate lightness of heart and soul that is an inborn gift, not dependent on one’s age, abilities, wealth or status.

Most of what I read about Sagan’s “star stuff” was way over my head, but I came upon a description of DNA as giving off light, and shedding more light when it was unwound. The author describes that swirl of light as functioning as a “tuning fork” for the body, striking a species-specific frequency to which all the body’s cells align.

Stars are made of the basic elements, and stars give off light. If we are indeed made of star stuff, I’d like to think that the light in our DNA is starlight, that the light of the universe is within us.

May starlight shine in all of us and give us hope.

UNEXPECTED CROP

2006-01-27T08:37:00.000-05:00

It’s still the dead of winter, but I’m thinking spring. I ordered seeds today. Yep, that’ll do it. I got a few herbs for my tiny little herb box: Lemon Balm, Coriander/Cilantro, Dark Green Italian Parsley (to be joined later by Pineapple Sage from a local nursery), and for the edges of my garden box (in which I already have four varieties of raspberries), Parsnips. Last year it was carrots. I think I’ll like the parsnips even better; according to the seed catalog, parsnips can winter over and will be fine in the spring. Yum!

I don’t do all that well growing plants from seeds. I’m pretty good about planting and watering (although I’m just a little heavy-handed with the water). I’m even good at waiting for the tiny little leaflets to break the surface and catch their first light. But thinning is so painful! I know that in order to grow healthy, strong plants, a good many of the nearby little sprigs need to be ruthlessly pulled up. It’s almost enough to make one weep.

I didn’t realize one had to be courageous to be a gardener. When you think of it though, gardening develops a lot of traits of strong character: wisdom, knowledge, a sense of timing, self discipline, responsibility, attentiveness, faithfulness, sensitivity, perseverance. I suspect that many a philosopher, teacher and theologian has been grown in a garden. What an unexpected crop!

SPOOR OF THE STARFISH

2006-01-26T16:18:00.000-05:00

As a little child, I moved with my family to the coast of New Jersey. I’m retired now, a landlubber, but that early love of the sea has stayed with me. So, I start this blog as a means to reflect on life, the world, nature – anything that catches my fancy. And I suspect my thoughts will leave a trail somewhat resembling the spoor of a starfish.

The starfish has five rays – or arms or legs, if you will – or it may have four or six or nine, or even twenty-some, but mostly, five. Each ray has not one, but hundreds of tiny tube feet. So the trail left by a meandering starfish is a delicate path of tiny squiggles. Wind and waves easily erase the trail of a starfish, and nothing remains to mark its passing.

So it is for most of us humans, that the progress along our paths through life doesn’t leave much of an indelible impression. Nonetheless, the world is – or can be – a richer, finer place because of our being here. We don’t have to find a medical cure, or conquer poverty, or do something earth-shaking. We only need to give off the light and warmth of our love, wherever we are, however long that might be. Even the tiniest little bit of love’s light and warmth is enough to make the world a friendlier place.

Like the starfish, we don’t leave such a remarkable trail, but we don’t have to. Delight isn’t in the spoor; it’s in the starfish.