The promise of Spring

This past Winter has felt longer, colder, and more frozen than most.

Today’s rain turned to a wind-and-thunder storm, and then it broke for a moment, shining a beam down on the rooftop terrace, and arcing a promise of Spring into the sky like a beacon from Zeus.

All will be well.

Bidden or unbidden, Spring is coming.

Hope

"If we want to truly endure, we can't just focus on what it takes to merely survive. We have to focus on what it takes to truly live. And that doesn't just come from the head; it comes from the heart. So the non-essentials, as you call them, the writers, the artists,  the dreamers--they are essential, because in our darkest hours, they give us the most essential ingredient to the survival of our species: Hope. And in the end, it is hope, and only hope, that will save us."

----Jillian, Salvation, S1:E4

Half-finished Love

A half-finished book is, after all, a half-finished love affair.

—-Frobisher, Cloud Atlas

2022 Wishes

"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art. It has no survival value. Rather, it is one of the things which give value to survival." C. S. Lewis

"Survival is insufficient." Star Trek Voyager, ep. 122

May your 2022 be filled with things which give value to survival.

Responsibility for Renewal

100 years ago today, Edith Stein was baptized. From her we learn that baptism might not mean leaving behind an old life but taking responsibility for renewal. A role model for the atheist phenomenologist was Teresa of Avila with whom she also shares much philosophically.

The innermost essence of love is self-offering.

Within Me

no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there's something stronger – something better, pushing right back. Truly yours, Albert Camus

Wisdom

"You must never give in to despair. Allow yourself to slip down that road and you surrender to your lowest instincts. In the darkest times, hope is something you give yourself. That is the meaning of inner strength." ~Uncle Iroh

Kafka and the doll

At 40, Franz Kafka (1883-1924),who never married and had no children, walked through the park in Berlin when he met a girl who was crying because she had lost her favourite doll. She and Kafka searched for the doll unsuccessfully. Kafka told her to meet him there the next day and they would come back to look for her. The next day, when they had not yet found the doll, Kafka gave the girl a letter "written" by the doll saying "please don't cry. I took a trip to see the world. I will write to you about my adventures." Thus began a story which continued until the end of Kafka's life. During their meetings, Kafka read the letters of the doll carefully written with adventures and conversations that the girl found adorable. Finally, Kafka brought back the doll (he bought one) that had returned to Berlin. "It doesn't look like my doll at all," said the girl. Kafka handed her another letter in which the doll wrote: "my travels have changed me." the little girl hugged the new doll and brought her happy home. A year later Kafka died. Many years later, the now-adult girl found a letter inside the doll. In the tiny letter signed by Kafka it was written: "Everything you love will probably be lost, but in the end, love will return in another way."

Tiny Poem

A poem today, written just for me by the always brilliant Ali Trotta. Poetry will save us.

You watched the sun rise, a riot

of colors, bleeding softly

into the sky, bright as ink

swimming through water,

growing brighter

and more miraculous,

until everything crested,

and the day began,

stuffed full of such ordinary

hope. 

#TinyPoem

Just the essentials

Packing for Chicago

Eclipse Season, part one

What a week we have had: threats of nuclear war in Southeast Asia were actually eclipsed by torch-bearing white nationalists on the Lawn and a hate-filled murderous ramming. It can be hard to see the light, indeed.

I'm glad that I opted not to attend the ministry gathering in Charlottesville on Saturday. Don't expect this to mean that I tolerate nationalism or that I will in any way be quiet about it. I won't.

Far closer to home, there has been much activity as well, no less revealing. The workshop in Richmond was excellent and continues to confirm that this is the path that is opening for me. Love and compassion are our greatest gifts, and through them I continue to find my greatest joy and action. The companionship of Friends in Richmond was replenishing, a deep drink of a clear stream. I am blessed to have crossed paths and look forward to doing so again in the not-so-distant future.

There has been less glamorous work, too. Sweeping up the dust, clearing out the rubbish, straightening the edges, emptying the bins, signing the paperwork -- it all needs doing, and even a little effort seems to reveal much for me this month. I'm not even really all that upset to be doing the chore-some work of it all.

Love and comfort are hard to come by these days, it seems. Nurturing and connection are basic, human and necessary. If there is little now, there is one thing I know to be true beyond all else: now is not always. 

Today is now; tomorrow beacons.

Intuitively minded

Charlottesville is about 90 miles from my front door, and is in-between my front door and Richmond, where the mediation workshop was being held. I had several different invitations to consider: peace stance with ministers, civil disobedience workshop, giving a talk about the concept of White Genocide and what it means for peace activists and civil rights today, the reality of free speech and free assembly protections -- all sorts of cool, instructional, compassionate activities. And I had every intention of going. As I gathered my things up Friday night, I felt a strong sense that this was not a good idea, and, despite feeling a bit foolish, I brought my bags back in the house and decided to wait until the very early morning to make up my mind about the event. Pictures of torches on the lawn didn't sway me, but left me feeling even more drawn to say "This is not my voice; you do not speak for me." But again, I had foreboding as I turned the key in the ignition. Again, I stayed home, sheepishly schlepping my bags up the stairs to the living room. By ten-thirty, the only thing I wanted was a nap, and I started to read and write a bit.

By the time I resurfaced into the Known World around 3:30 in the afternoon, I was glad I had stayed home, and began the texts and calls that would take up the rest of the evening, verifying the safety of the others that I had known were going, checking in with the Friends network and the activists, ministers, and community that I have come to think of as my family. We were all well, though understandably rattled in varying degrees. I daresay that each of us has felt this weekend as a watershed event emotionally, and it might take a bit to see the impact that it has on each of us personally, on us as groups, and on us as a nation.

Sometimes

Sometimes, being still and living in faith is a boss fight.

Yesterday was very quiet, which was nice, and all was well until the later evening, when I bumped into some sore spots, emotionally. It was hard to stay centered, and I wrestled with the nasty emotions of despair and distrust for nearly an hour before I surrendered and just quit -- I shut up and went to bed and let the swirling mass inside me have its way without any help from me. These are low-level boss fights, invitations to freak out as much as I want to, to blow up my life even.

It's not always easy to say "No thank you" and move on. Despair makes a Time Lord of me, time-shifting to Back Then Places filled with danger, uncertainty, self-doubt and self-loathing. That was then.

This is now.

Adopt an olive tree

It's that time of year again when I sign up for the produce for the year. This year I'm adding in an olive oil subscription, adopting an olive tree from a grove on the the Carolina Villani Estate:

The Carolina Villani Estate is situated in San Paolo Civitate, by the area called Alto Tavoliere in the northern region of Puglia. The hilly location 182 meters above sea level combined with the mild climate makes this area ideal for olive growing. In particular, it’s known for producing Peranzana olives.

Frankly, I can't wait to receive our first shipment, and it couldn't be timed better. Wednesday night we poured the last of our three liter tin into the glass bottle of olive oil we keep next to the stove, and I told Harvey it was time to up our game when it comes to the olive oil, given that we now have such great bread and vegetables to go with it, and he agreed.

Today we are going on a date to Oliveto here in town, and I'm totally looking forward to it. But that certificate of adoption is getting framed and hung in the kitchen for certain.

Now if I could just find a source for durum wheat, I'd be golden.

Now is the time to stand up for what matters

“As long as a society holds regular and frequent assemblies, meeting in harmony
and mutual respect, can they be expected to prosper and not decline.
As long as a society follows the long held traditions of wisdom, and honors its elders,
can they be expected to prosper and not decline.
As long as a society protects the wives and daughters and vulnerable among them,
can they be expected to prosper and not decline.
As long as a society cares for the shrines and sacred places of the natural world,
can they be expected to prosper and not decline.”

—Mahaparinirvana Sutta (a text of Buddha’s last teachings)