Poo-poo mouth

I'm on Day 15 with the Dalai Lama
Weary of him now
May go on to Hosea instead.
His teachings solidify my thinking.
I really am a Christian, not a Buddhist.

But today's meditation was interesting.
"If you find yourself slandering anybody, first imagine that your mouth is filled with excrement. It will break you of the habit quickly enough."

I had lunch with Mona and Ann,
friends for 37 years whom I had not seen in a while.
Over chicken enchiladas and a burrito without the tortilla
we shared the news of our lives.
Several times I was tempted to tell the "full" story.
The image of poo-poo mouth restrained me.
I guess it works.

Reincarnation

I had to part ways with the Dalai Lama today.
Don't think I'll post this in the dialogue circle.
I'm a Christian, not a Buddhist.
I find reincarnation exhausting.
There's no grace in it either.
Today's spiritual practice invited us to go sit somewhere and people watch
Then imagine that one or more of them could have been my mother in some other life.
Oh, please!

Today I went to see a movie with my daughter - the early show.
We saw Henry Poole Is Here.
When it ended, Emi said it was way too heavy handed
no room for the imagination.
It's true.
There are no subtleties in that film.
Everything is in your face. literally.

The other person in the theater when we left was an older woman
older than me so she's getting up there
short white hair, glasses, lace up shoes
She said she had slept briefly and asked us to fill in some details.
She remembered everything we told her.
I guess I saw more than I thought she said.
I just didn't get it.

There were plenty of subleties for her.

What if she had been my mother in some other life?
How would I be different?
kinder maybe
a little more dense
probably a good baker (she was pretty hefty)
no fashion sense
for sure no big jewelry
friendly

I doubt that we were ever related
but we are connected
we are all God's children after all
and worthy of care.
Lord bless her.

Contentment

The Dalai Lama says contentment is core to his faith.
The Apostle Paul says that too, that he has learned to be content in all things.
There are times when I have been wonderfully content
when my family was together for my 60th birthday
Christmas mornings
Sunday mornings when worship has gone well and there is a full church
when I held/hold my children and grandchildren
when I am on retreat
whenever I see a sunset
when I go to sleep at night with Forrest by my side
and when I awaken in the morning.

Mostly I live with restlessness.
I'm a whiner.
I grumble and complain and question why.

The Costa Ricans hve contentment.
When the water or electricity didn't work
they shrugged their shoulders.
"O well," they said
and they were content.

Americans don't do that.
We want it fixed - now!
Our country would be very different if we were all contented.
I wouldn't like it as well.
But somehow there needs to be more of a balance than we have
so that we're not screaming at each other all the time.
Contentment goes against the grain of the American way.
We're restless.
We dream of how it could be different, better.
It's in our DNA.

The Dalai Lama speaks of beggars with their bowls
being content with whatever is put there in the day.

I would never make it,
begging and being content with whatever landed in my bowl.
Somebody for sure would pitch in a piece of candy.
My blood sugar would plummet soon after that
and I would be felled fright there
on the street
in front of God and everybody
laid out and lifeless.

I will have to find a different path to contentment
a little more balance
Exactly how is that done?
What is the first step in dealing with restlessness?
For me,
Quit whining, grumbling and complaining.
For sure that's a no-no in a contented life.

Today is the Sabbath.
I shall not complain.
I shall go on a fast from negativity and make gratitude
a more conscious part of my hours.

Practicing Kindness

"My religion is kindness," says His Holiness on Day 8.
That's not so hard.
I treat people nicely.
Practice random acts of kindness today is the assignment.
Harder
Means I'm going to have to get up and actually DO something.
My body is full of wheat
Big no no.
Couldn't resist Chicago Pizza last night.
Today I am a huge elephantine slug
no energy
no coffee in this caffeine free house either
Whatever shall I do?
I'm whining now - big time
Marsha would tell me,
"Put on your big girl panties and go do it."
But what?
I am stuck in brain fog.
Perhaps I shall begin with myself
Quit trashing my self
for eating the double stuffed spinach pizza.
First person to be nice to today is Pat.
More to come.

Emi's Surgery

My little girl went under the knife today.
It happened about eight o'clock this morning.
We were out of the house by 5:30 AM.
5:30!!
Looking out the sap stained windows of the mini-van
and driving to the heart of the city of Chicago
We witnessed the most gorgeous sunrise
peeking over Lake Michigan
It was a show stopper.
Wow! I thought.
Wow!
An omen of profound hope as we began this day
Something new and beautiful is about to begin
heralded by the fiery, purply change in the sky.
Just what wonder will be a part of this day,
this week, this year?

Emi lay peacefully in her bed
propped up with an IV in her arm
holding a purple marker so they could write on her belly.
The doctor was tall
Really tall
A giant, no doubt
They say that about his skills too.

We prayed.
I anointed her with balm
Christ's healing presence to fill her and surround her.

She'll come out later, groggy and dragging drains.
And I shall tend to them for her.
May I be God's instrument of healing this week
as she recovers from having her insides all stitched nicely in place.

Ezekiel and the Dalai Lama

It happens to me all the time.
I forget.
And then it happens again.
I set out with eagerness to read the whole, entire Bible.
I love Genesis, greet it with enthusiasm!
slug through Exodus' double details of the tabernacle
put up with Leviticus and Numbers
And then I get into the rhythm of it
Some days I love, LOVE it!!
Then I hit Ezekiel.
Ezekiel!
What kind of crazy guy is he?
He rails at everyone
and has the most bizarre behavior.
beyond bizarre actually.
and we revere him
because he spoke the truth.
He seems a little crazy to me.
I think the Israelites thought so too.

Nobody paid much attention to him or the other prophets in their day.
Most people don't read or listen to them now.
I skim the pages,
then skim the chapter headings.
Obedience compels me.
I'm a minister after all.
Reading the Bible is what I should be doing.
But I hate reading most of Ezekiel.
Every time it's where I bog down
and feel more resentment than joy
when I pick up the Good Book.

I've been in rebellion nearly a week now.
The other night I was surfing the net looking for film reviews.
The Broussats are offtering another online course
40 days, 40 meditations with the Dalai Lama,
$24.95
Hmmm, I thought. Why not?
So I punched in my charge card numbers and began to read.
first it was introductions,
then setting our intention
I've already forgotten what mine was.
And then came the first day's exercise - 10 quotes.
Choose the one that jumps out at you.
This is it -
"Even if one has no religion, everyone appreciates kindness and compassion."
And so I promised to practice kindness that day
Then it was smiling at everyone.
Then letting go of anger and anxiety - like feathers, he said!
Today the practice is listening.

I can't dialogue with them anymore.
For some reason the site no longer accepts my posts
So this blog will have to do instead.

The interesting thing is how much I look forward to it
this Buddhist teaching that comes to my inbox
how much it is bringing me life
and making a difference in my day.

Ezekiel doesn't do that for me.
He makes me feel worse
inadequate
like I deserve every rotten thing that has ever happened to me.
I don't want to listen to him today.
The Dalai Lama invites me to practice faith with gentleness.
Ezekiel doesn't.
He leaves me cold.

I know now why people leave churches.
If they are like me, they are longing for gentleness,
compassion and kindness,
some help in seeing holiness in their lives.
We argue and pontificate
and tell them what they should be doing in no uncertain terms.
Mission!
Mission!
Mission!
Take care of the world!
It's all our fault that it's broken!
We have to fix it now!
Now!

God's Spirit is changing me.
It is changing the church.
Can we not change the world one heart at a time?
Beginning with me, with you,
loving each other
and practicing gentleness, kindness and compassion
These are after all the fruits of the Holy Spirit,
the evidence that the Christ life has taken hold.
Can we not move from that centered place
and not an angry, disconnected space within us?

Help me
to stay true to you in the unfurling of my soul
and the uprooting of my stodgy moorings.

Shoes - A Love Story Turned Sour

The prompt was this: Write a letter to an object that has caused you harm.

You were so lovely that wintry afternoon, calling my name as I strolled through Foley's. There you sat, perched on plexiglass, clunky brown wooden heels, made in Brazil. Buy me!! you screamed. Take me home!!! I'm yours! What fun we shall have together!

You seemed a little snug, but O, you were so irrisistible. I loved you fiercely, took you into my home, my sanctuary, my safe place - introduced you to all the jackets and dresses in my closet. We were made for each other - family!!

We went to the courthouse the next morning - you and me - pounded the concrete together and all the marble floors. The romance wore thin before the day was over. That night I hobbled home, barely able to stand. It was then that I first noticed it - the knob on my foot. I think you put it there. You betrayed me. You were the first of a dozen or more suitors who seduced me, then ruined my feet. I can't wear high heels anymore. I've had surgery. I'm stuck with Triple E feet and specialized, expensive shoe stores.

Maybe it would have happened anyway. Maybe it's all a part of this aging process, losing parts of myself.

But I'm the winner. I can go barefoot. I can run and dance and play, things i never could have done when the two of us were together.

Obsession - Dangerous Writing

The prompt was this: Think of something you used as a drug that was not pharmaceutical. Tell as much as you can without bursting into flame.

The chicken was plump and fresh. Its flesh separated from the bones easily enough. One slice down its back was all that was needed to separate the skin. With a surgeon's skill I dislodged the entire skeleton from its raw hide. Then I stuffed it with seasoned rice and vegetables - sewed the whole thing together as though not a single bone had been removed. It came from the oven all crisp and buttery, a delight to behold. I was triumphant!

My house meanwhile rested in squalor, neglected, as usual in behalf of another fabulous culinary treat. We lived in disarray in those days while I dreamed of glorious food and spent all my time bringing the creations to life.

Lucy

A Beatles drug song heralds her nearness - Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. The excitement has been building - cases of necklaces, crosses, icons, TV shows illustrating rulers of the past, murals describing cities and their treasures, including the ark of the covenant. A film tells us how she was found quite by accident, and then the sign points the way to Lucy.

I enter the darkened room - black ceiling, charcoal carpet, barely lit except for a lighted mural that circles the room - pictures of apes and animals in a grasy plain near a river. And there, neart the center of the room lie Lucy's remains, the original remains, 3.2 million years old, the oldest and most complete human that we have. It was just a bunch of bones, but there was such a holiness to them. It was probably the oldest thing that I have ever seen.

I thought of Ezekiel's valley of dry bones. Can these bones live?
the PCUSA?
St. Stephen?
Me?

Can we live? Only through the Spirit of God.

Lucy is alive again, now serving as the goodwill ambassador for Ethiopia. The Spirit of God has brought her to life.

May it be so for all of us.

The Red Ribbon - Memoir for Christmas

I remember Ann - beautiful wise woman
sage
mistress of the arts of all things feminine
She came to my house early in the Christmas season
to help me put on a smashing party.
My house was naked, stark, Puritan like.
She unfurled red ribbons.
Before I knew it there were double bows everywhere
Down the bannister
around all the stuffed animals
on every wreath
and everything that sat still.
Christmas came that day
all full of love and beauty

memoir - The Spoon

It was just a simple spoon, an ordinary, unadorned tablespoon, nothing special, but it became a flashpoint that day. The question posed to me by my stepfather was simply this or something like it: Which direction should the bowl face for water poured onto it to go downward or something like that. I thought it should face downward, but then I changed my mind. I said it should be open, faced upward. It was the wrong answer.

He had a scowl on his face - said something cruel about my scientific aptitude as I recall. I felt him thinking I was stupid, hopeless, and I was ashamed. I think now that I was answering a different question that day - How shall we face life - open and trusting or turned away? He couldn't see it, but I do, and I am going to stay open and receive beautiful, refreshing, life giving water.

Spaghetti Sauce - Memoir

I remember the day I poured weevils into the spaghetti sauce.
Oops!
It wasn't intentional.
The spice was too old.
It was too late to pour it out.
I served it up anway.
People thought it was pepper.
My secret.

Memoir - Vicks Vapo rub

It is winter, freezing cold outside.
I am inside, tucked away in a comfy bed
not feeling well today.
Something is not right in my chest.
Grandma rubs me with medicine.
Then she covers my chest with Kleenex.
The fumes go right to my sinuses.
She says they will help me breathe better.
To breathe is to live.
To live is to breathe.
God is breath.
And so I wait for the stinky fumes
to bring life to my listless body
as I let go into God.

I Remember

This is a response to a prompt at Max Regan's writing class on Memoir. I wrote it after smelling a jar of herbs.

I remember...
an herb garden at our farm
thyme, oregano, all kinds of mint
planted in clumps with sloping sides to the ground

Martha spent hours making it just so
She worked and worked

consultations with everyone
blistering sun
not enough water
Most of the plants died.
Chickens ate the rest of them.

Now the garden is dormant,
Past its prime
like so many of us
waiting
for love to till the soil again.

Swing Vote

What a fabulous film! But then I love Kevin Costner and nearly everything he does. This movie is about him and how he finally "comes to himself." It reminded me of the biblical story of the prodigal son that is found in Luke 15. In verse 15 Luke tells us, But when he came to himself... The prodigal's thought pattern changed, a new awareness dawned, he took a different course of action and he returned home to his father (a metaphor for God). Costner becomes lucid in the final scene as he finally comes to himself. I wanted to stand up and cheer.

Costner's moment of awareness came when he began to read some of the letters sent to him by people all over the country concerning the outcome of the Presidential election that Costner would have to decide. The written words touched his heart, and we see a dramatic change in him. Isn't this how people have responded to the written and spoken Word throughout the centuries? How many people have come to know God through reading the words of the Bible! Much of the New Testament is letters that Paul wrote to churches.

Costner's daughter, whose name is Molly in the film, plays the role of the Holy Spirit who guides us, counsels us, and serves as our advocate. She is the embodiment of Isaiah 11:6: The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.

Besides the spiritual connections, the film is a wonderful satire on American politics and politicians who will sell their souls for a vote. I laughed out loud!

think I'll fix some egg salad for lunch.

Mama Mia

I wanted to like this movie! I was pumped and ready. I wanted My Big Fat Greek Wedding. I didn't get it although I did love the music and the scenery. The movie opens with a 20 year old girl, Sophie, who is about to be wed. Unbeknownst to her mother, she has invited three men, one of whom she believes may be her father, to attend her wedding on the Greek island where she lives. This movie is about Sophie's longing for a father and how that issue gets resolved.

My interest in film is in spiritual connections, seeing the metaphors for God and humanity and how those issues play out in the movie. Sophie's longing for a father is one of the primal longings of all humans. We all long for our father's blessing; in fact, it is the reason why most people go into the ministry. The Psalms are full of prayers of longing for God. Consider Psalm 13:1-2: How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?

We think our longings can be satisfied with other things - people, food, material goods, drugs, alcohol, all manner of addictions. Longings can be appeased with these for a while, but ultimately only God can satisfy our deepest longings. There are many who believe that when we find our truest self, we shall also find God. Perhaps that happened for Sophie at her almost wedding; it was left unclear, and the movie bobbled for me then. I also didn't like the way the clergyman was portrayed - old, irrelevant, clueless and bumbling. The word for wisdom in the Greek is Sophia. Sophie didn't seem to have much of that, even though it was her namesake.