Author: Mary

I am a recently retired college professor. Up until June 2012 I taught human behavior and the social environment, social justice and human rights at Monmouth University, in the school of social work. My great joys are reading and telling stories! Reading and thinking about the meaning and implications of what is written. Good literature has the potential of alchemy! of social change toward a world where social and economic justice is respected and where human rights are celebrated.

Neuroplasticity and flying like and eagle

On By MaryIn change, Choices we makeLeave a comment

Neuroplasticity. It is an odd word, and an even odder word to use to begin a blog that promises in some kind of way to get around to social justice or human rights.  Neuroplasticity … plastic brain? Well, yes, kind of exactly. It is a newish area in brain studies that is very quietly shouting out that are brains are not as fixed as we were once told they were.  Remember high school biology class when we were taught that by then our brains were our brains and what you had was all that you were going to have? That drinking alcohol killed off brain cells, and so you should pretty much expect that drunk and stupid would inevitably go hand in hand? Well, now neuroscience is discovering that it ain’t necessarily so.

Now, I’m not saying drunk and stupid don’t go hand in hand, there is way too much evidence – scientific and anecdotal – to document that, but I am maybe saying it is the transient effect of the alcohol, not the permanent death of brain cells. But, wait, that is not really the point of this anyway. Back to neuroplasticity.

Neuroplasticity says that the brain is capable of healing itself, that the brain is capable of reshaping itself, literally so. If only we work at it diligently and in the right way. And isn’t is always the diligently and in the right way part that is the kick in the butt!  Trying something once, failing pitifully and giving up is no longer an options. Now it seems it really is much more that you have no longer failed so much as you have begun to succeed – if only you are willing to keep trying. And yes, trying with diligence and in the right way. Because, remember the definition of insanity: repeatedly doing the same thing over and over and expecting to get different results. And then there was Thomas Edison who would conduct thousands of experiments on an idea he had for an invention until he got it right. And that is the model here – Edison’s experiments: he would try something, fail, analyze the failure, learn from it, and then come back at it another way, tweaking (tweaking not twerking) until he got it right.

The road to social justice and human rights, the road to fairness and respect for human dignity is a long road, a very, very long road. But if we approach it with diligence and in the right way, maybe looking at all of our actions as experiments in the spirit of Thomas Edison, acting, analyzing the outcomes of our efforts, learning and trying again in a slightly different way, maybe there reason for hope!

And here’s a bit of a story I found that kind of gets to that point:

Once upon a time in a far off farm in rural New Jersey, Jessica found an eagle’s egg. She didn’t know what kind of an egg is was, she just saw that it was an orphan egg that needed a home. So she picked it up and carried it home with her. When she brought it in the house, her mother shoed her out, and told her to put the egg in one of the nests in the hen house. Together they would watch and see if one of the hens would sit on the egg until it hatched.

Well, sure enough in a little while the egg hatched, and a baby eagle was born.  The eaglet was born along with a whole brood of baby chicks and grew up with then in the barn yard.  From the time he was born, through all of his life, the eagle grew up with the chicks and did everything the chicks did right along with them.  They scratched in the dirt for worms and insects, he scratched in the dirt for worms and insects. They clucked and cackled, and he clucked and cackled. They would flap their wings and fly a few feet into the air, he would flap his wings and fly just a few feet into the air.

Some years passed like this, with Jessica and her mother always keeping a close eye on the young eagle and the chickens in the yard. One day an old college friend of Jessica’s mother, Anna who worked for the Audubon Society came by the farm to visit. When she saw the eagle in the barn yard in the middle of the chickens, she was aghast.  Her first reaction was to ask if the animal was ill or injured, but it looked healthy to her. Jessica and her mother told Anna the story about the egg and the eagle growing up with the chickens, Anna got very quiet and thoughtful.  Then she proposed a road trip to Jessica and her mother, and the three of them packed a lunch and drove to Hawk Mountain Sanctuary across the river in Pennsylvania. As they walked the trails there, the three of them talked about birds and freedom. Over the horizons they saw six or seven different kinds of hawks, a kestrel, and even an eagle or two. As they drove home, Anna looked at Jessica and her mother and said, that is what an eagle’s life should be like, not scratching for bugs in the dirt.

Jessica and her mother thought about it, and realized that Anna was right, but what could they do about it? Their eagle didn’t know how to fly, not any distance, not really. But they recognized right when they saw it, and so the two of them devised a plan to teach their eagle to fly. Each day they would take the eagle to a ledge, each day slightly higher than the day before, first a table top, then a ladder, then a low roof. Each day repeatedly they would stand the eagle on the edge of the ledge and encourage him to fly. The first day the eagle fell as much as he flew, but with practice and as his wings strengthened, the eagle developed skill and confidence. And then the day came when Jessica and her mother knew it was time. They gathered their eagle into a cage, drove to Hawk Mountain, walked to the edge of one of the cliffs, and set their eagle free. As he stood on the edge of the cliff, the eagle spread his wings, lifted his head into the wind, and few off with the wind to the life he was meant to live.

Of course Jessica and her mother were sad to see their beautiful bird leave their nest. But every now and again, they are fairly certain that they see a magnificent eagle circling over their farm, floating on the winds in majestic and regal freedom and dignity.  And in those moments they feel like they too share in their eagle’s freedom.

And the point of the story? Finding your nature and living it, of course. But also that it took diligence and determination, persistent and intelligent work to make it happen.

So, may we all find our best wings! And may we all develop the resilience to learn to use them to fly!! May we all remember that even the brains of old dogs are plastic enough to always learn new tricks.

Happiness: to chase or to be pursued

On By MaryIn happiness2 Comments

The other week as I was writing about finding balance in my life I got to thinking about happiness. I remembered way (ok, way, way) back when I was in college. In those days I can remember that my buddies and I would often check in and ask each other if we were happy. Somehow we had decided that happiness was the goal. Then later I got to reading Buddhist stuff and concluded that happiness is more sanely a byproduct of a life well lived. Maybe so, probably so, but as I read somewhere recently, if you are dearly dedicated to the truth, be open to frequently recognizing that you are wrong! So, happiness, goal or by product or something else entirely? I guess I better admit, I’m not so sure anymore. I do know that most days I have more than a few moments of happiness, sometimes the out and out blissful kind of happiness, sometimes the belly laugh kind of happiness, more often a quiet ineffable calm happiness. And I’m here to tell you they are all kind of nice. Oh, and they are all really most noticeable it contrast with other feelings. But that is another blog.

On happiness, I came across this little story in Wisdom Stories to live by at https://philipchircop.wordpress.com/  hope you enjoy it. Hope it brings you a few moments of happiness….

STOP CHASING YOUR TAIL

A big cat saw a little cat chasing its tail and asked, “Why are you chasing your tail so?”

Said the kitten, “I have learned that the best thing for a cat is happiness, and that happiness is in my tail. Therefore, I am chasing it: and when I catch it, I shall have happiness.”

Said the old cat, “My son, I, too, have paid attention to the problems of the universe. I too, have judged that happiness is in my tail But, I have noticed that whenever I chase after it, it keeps running away from me, and when I go about my business, it just seems to come after me wherever I go.”

Source | From C.L. James, “On Happiness,”
in Caesar Johnson, To See a World in a Grain of Sand
(Norwalk, Conn.: The C.B. Gibson Co., 1972)

Reflections of Summertime, Balance and the Need for Play

On By MaryIn Advise, growth into humanity2 Comments

Now that I am retired and have time to think and recently I find myself thinking about the importance of balance, and well, the importance of rest and play. When I was working, success at work was my primary goal for a good long while. Then my partner caught cancer, and doing my best to take care of her was not just my primary goal, it was my only goal. Now I find myself thinking about balance: work and play, self and others, doing and being.

As if to remind me of the importance of balance between work and play, I came across this story in Joan Chittister’s book “Wisdom Distilled from the Daily.”

One day a traveler in the desert came across good Sister Scholastica who was relaxing and enjoying herself with the other sisters. The traveler was shocked, and taunted the sisters saying, “What kind of monastics were they to be out playing like that?!?”

Sister Scholastica asked the traveler if he had a bow and arrow. And the fellow allowed as how he did. The good sister then asked him to shoot an arrow off toward the far distant horizon. He did. And she said, now shoot another. He did. And Sister Scholastica said, “Shoot your bow again. Keep shooting; keep shooting; keep shooting!” Finally the traveler said, “But if I bend my bow so much I will break it.”

And Sister Scholastica said to him, “It is just the same with the work of holiness and with the work for justice. If we stretch ourselves beyond measure, we will break. Sometimes it is necessary to take the time to meet our other needs as well.”

When the traveler heard those words, he was saw their wisdom and repented of his rebuke to Sister Scholastica. And the other sisters were strengthened in their sense of community.

Further in the book, Chittister notes that Talmud Scholars have commented on the importance of rest.  When we rest from our work, we create a time and space to evaluate where we have been, how far we have come, and the quality of what we have done. When we rest we open time and space to contemplate the meaning of life, and the meaning of our own life as we have chosen to live it.

So, yes the work that you are doing IS important. AND it is important to remember that if you overwork a bow it will break, if you overwork yourself, you too will break. So, take a deep breath and go out and play for a while! After all it is summer time and the living should be easy.

Austerity or Exuberance which path will you follow?

On By MaryIn happinessLeave a comment

Once upon a time, during the time of Siddhartha Gautama, when he was an embodied enlightened one, Siddhartha would send out traveling disciples to carry his teachings and to enable communication among groups of monks who were practicing his middle way.

I have read that one of those traveling monks was called Sadhonna.  On his travels, Sadhonna came across a monk who was a dedicated and faithful practice of Samadhi, the practice of self-denial. This monk took asceticism to its highest level. The fellow was bone thin, literally you could see his bones under his skin. As he sat and meditated in the lotus position, Sadhonna noticed that the fellow was sitting on an anthill, and that he did not even twitch as the ants tugged and nibbled on his skin.   Sadhonna asked him, “Brother, I am on my way to see the Buddha. Is there any word you would like me to carry to him?”

Brother Samadhi grimaced and said, “Please ask the Buddha how many more lifetimes I must endure before I attain Budddhahood.”

Sadhonna promised that he would pass this question along to the Buddha. And Sadhonna continued along on his way.

In another day or so, Sadhonna heard some slightly discordant singing. As he walked on, he came across a fellow dressed in monk’s clothing exuberantly singing and dancing in a clearing in the woods. Clearly this monk was a bit inept, but was delighting in the song and dance none the less, and was putting his full heart and soul into it.  Sadhonna watched for a short while and then inquired of the monk, “Brother Ebullience, I am on my way to see the Buddha. Is there any word you would like me to carry to him?”

The monk paused in his song and dance, thought for a moment, smiled and said, “yes, would you ask him when I will reach my enlightenment?”

Sadhonna promised that he would pass this question along to the Buddha, and he continued malong on his way.

After a while, Sadhonna returned and found Brother Samadhi. By then his flesh was thinner than paper, with his bones protruding through in places. Sadmonna told him that the Buddha had answered his question and said that in four more lifetimes he would reach enlightenment. Brother Samadhi grimaced, thanked Sadhonna, and continued his practices of austerity.

Sadhonna continued along on his way and found Brother Ebullience who continued to sing and dance with unbridled enthusiasm, still discordant and disjointed in his efforts. And to this monk Sadhonna also offered, “The Buddha has answered your question.”

The dancing monk paused and queried, “How many more lifetimes?”

Sadhonna pointed to a huge fig tree growing near where the two men were standing. The tree had thousands of leaves on its branches each dancing in the sunlight singing with the wind. Sadhonna said, “As many as there are leaves on the branches of that tree.”

The dancing monk looked up at the tree and the leaves and laughed, and instantly attained enlightenment.

 

And the point of the story for me? You are going to be alive anyway, you might just as well enjoy what you are doing!

And, so in the words of William Purkey, you might just as well, “dance like there’s nobody watching, love like you’ll never be hurt, sing like there’s nobody listening, and live like it’s heaven on earth.”

What’s a Mother to do? The Days After Mother’s Day

On By MaryIn anti-racism, Choices we makeLeave a comment

Happy belated Mother’s Day one and all!  Because even if we have not given birth, we are all some kind of mother (put the accent where you will), we are all mother’s of invention.

I recently read a blog by a friend of mine, and she got me thinking about this question: What would YOU do to save your son or daughter in a moment when he or she might be putting herself/himself in harms way?

Far too many of our sons and daughters are subject to random acts of violence and senseless acts of cruelty.  There are not enough random acts of kindness nor senseless acts of beauty to balance the scales of any act of violence or cruelty and there have been far too many acts of violence and cruelty of late. My friend Rosi is right when she says we need to change the social structures. We need to build families, churches, governments, workplaces, media, social welfare systems that foster human dignity, growth and potential, that enable people to empower themselves. And I think we also, concurrently, need to change hearts, minds and actions on the interpersonal, ordinary day level so that the building of those new social structures is conceived in love, dignity and compassion.  And, I think Mother’s Love is just a fine foundation upon which to build all of that.

Here is the blog that spurred my thinking. It comes to us from

CHARLEENALDERFER familygram’s blog https://charleenalderfer.wordpress.com/2015/05/06/whats-a-mother-to-do/.

She posted it on May 6, 2015. I thought it would be appropriate to share it today, the day after Mother’s Day.

Thank You Charleen!

WHAT’S A MOTHER TO DO?

A tall, young black male enters the frame.  He wears a hoodie and jeans and carries the ubiquitous backpack.  He turns occasionally and looks back toward the camera.  In the background is a large gathering of people.  He seems to be headed in their direction. Suddenly, a woman dressed in yellow appears in the frame.  She is moving quickly in the direction of the young man.  While clearly older than he is, she is both matronly and attractive.  Intuitively, one knows she is his mother.  As she closes the distance between them, he continues at his same pace still turning to look toward her.  When she is close enough, she grabs his hoodie and he pulls away.  It is evident that he does not want to do what she is asking.  He reaches out and she grabs his arm with one hand and with other hits him on the head.  Now, we think, he will pull free and run.  But he does not run,.  He continues to resist.  The tug of war goes on and then, slowly, he goes with her.

This street in Baltimore has been in the news for the last few weeks.  It has been the scene of protests, both peaceful a violent. This young man was going to join the protestors in a setting which had turned toward violence. His mother saw him while watching the activity on TV.  She acted on her emotion and her instinct and ran after him to bring him home.  “Violence breeds violence” has been another kind criticism.  Hitting him just perpetuates violence. As a family therapist, I believe this is true if it is persistent and becomes a way of life.  We don’t know if this is the case for this mother and son.

If that were my son, I would do whatever it takes to get him.  My first thought would be that he might become Freddie Gray –   arrested and fatally injured in a police van.  My next thought would be to get him away from angry protesters who could convince him to join them.  I would want him home and safe.  What would a mother do to make that happen?  A slap on the side of the head got his attention.  The truth is that he didn’t resist that much.  He didn’t fight back, he didn’t try to run and he didn’t hit his mother. He could have done any of those things; he could even have pushed her down.  he was bigger, stronger, younger. Instead, he went with her.  Think about it.  What you do to save your son in that moment?

 

Thinking about Human Rights on Ordinary Days in Small Places Close to Home

On By MaryIn compassion, human rightsLeave a comment

A couple of weeks ago I got to see Audra McDonald perform in concert. The woman is breath-taking. She has such an amazing talent. She had such an open heart. As I listened to her sing, I found myself thinking about Eleanor Roosevelt – it is pretty odd the pathways that my mind is wont to wander, but for the most part they are happy trails, and so I am content to follow the yellow brick road.

So that night, one of the songs that Audra McDonald sang got me to thinking about Eleanor’s often quoted speech fragment from the tenth anniversary of the signing of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Now, I suspect you will either have never heard of this, or you will have heard it SO many times that you can halfway recite it in your sleep. Either way, please give it a read, once more with feeling. Think about what her words are really suggesting as she challenges us to think about the roots of human rights:

Where, after all, do universal human rights begin? In small places, close to home — so close and so small that they cannot be seen on any map of the world. Yet they are the world of the individual person: the neighborhood he lives in; the school or college he attends; the factory, farm or office where he works. Such are the places where every man, woman, and child seeks equal justice, equal opportunity, equal dignity without discrimination. Unless these rights have meaning there, they have little meaning anywhere. Without concerted citizen action to uphold them close to home, we shall look in vain for progress in the larger world.

Every time I read that paragraph I remember E. F. Schumacher’s injunction to think globally but act locally.

And all of that reminds me that in many ways it is easy to be a verbal, maybe even a financial, advocate for people on the other side of the planet. Truth be told, I find it much harder to consistently be compassionate and to always respect the human dignity of the people I meet closer to home on ordinary days, those people who can frustrate the crap out of me. But I do believe that Miss Eleanor is saying it is those very people who live in the small places close to our homes where the presence and practice of human rights must take its roots. And then of course we should do all that we can to have it spread like kudzu!

So, what tune was it that Audra McDonald sang that got me thinking about all of this? The song is “I’ll be there” from an off Broadway Play called, “Ordinary Days.”  Have a listen. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aku-s6yPplc    And have a box of tissues with you. When she sang it, there was not a dry eye in the theater.

Celebrating the Goddess Lada at the Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene

On By MaryIn Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, lost goddessesLeave a comment

Spring is in the air in New Jersey – finally, after the winter that would not end, after the endless snows of February, spring is in the air. And with the coming of Spring the good sisters of the cloister of Mary Magdalene were eager to sweep out the staleness of winter, to throw open the windows and doors of the cloister and of their hearts. They were ready, willing and able for the ablutions of spring cleaning. But this year they wanted more. They were feeling, well, they were feeling downright festive, and a festival just seemed right to them. But a spring festival? In honor of what? In honor of whom?

As the sisters were wont to do in times of gleeful quandary, they turned to Sister Honora and sought out her wisdom on the matter.  Sister Honora being who she is thought for a very brief moment, and she told Mother Magdalene that this was a very serious matter, one that required mugs of mead all around so that the good sisters would all be in the proper spirit for the considerations. Mother Magdalene shook her head, rolled her eyes, and asked Sister Beatrix, the young postulant, to go down to the cloister cellars and to tap the keg of mead and bring a mug for each of the sisters.

When Sister Beatrix returned with the mugs, and after Sister Honora had drained a full half of her mug, Sister Honora smiled contentedly and said, “Well, Sisters, it is lovely of you all to come and visit with me today. What is the news about the cloister these days?”

Clearly her 90 years were beginning to take their toll. Either the years or the mead. Undaunted, Sister Bryda, took Sister Honora’s hand and said, “Sister, we were talking with you about organizing a spring festival. We were wondering if you had any thoughts about Saints to whom we might dedicate the festival. And you thought that some mead might inspire your thoughts.”

Sister Honora sipped on her mead, more thoughtfully this time and said, “Indeed. Mead is the beverage of scholars and poets. Mead festivals are always in the spring. It is the right and proper source of inspiration for all things spring. Why I remember when I was young we would celebrate spring as the turning of the wheel of the year, the time of green shoots, the beginning of blossoms, the promise of fertility and the hope of a bountiful harvest. Spring was always the time to honor and celebrate the Goddesses of flowering and fertility.

Ah, my dear Sisters, for the ancient Greeks, Spring is the season of Persephone, the Goddess of the underworld, of spring and of rebirth.  You may remember that Hades kidnapped Persephone and she became his Queen of the underworld. There she was responsible to escort the souls of the dead to their places in that world. But, because she had eaten only four seeds of the pomegranate, she was compelled to this task for only four months of the year. The other eight months she could live with her mother Demeter.  When Persephone left the underworld each year, her return to our world marks the beginning of spring. When Demeter saw her daughter’s return, Demeter would lavish growth and abundance on the land – the beginning of spring’s thaw and fertility. And when Persephone has to return to the underworld, Demeter covers the world in cold, leaving it barren looking.”

Sister Beatrix then chimed in, “So that is why Persephone is the Goddess of death and rebirth?”

Sister Honora nods and continues, “Yes Dear, and she is also regarded as the Maiden aspect of the triple Goddess of the Maiden, Mother and Crone.  As the Maiden Goddess she stands for purity and innocence, and for the power of the soul’s dreams. We would often turn to her when we were in need of girding our ability to compromise and become more adaptable. But, Persephone can also become self-centered and overly focused on achieving her own dreams and goals, so caution is in order when you revere her. Yet, she is a wonderful reminder to each of us to cherish and nurture the child within each of our hearts and souls.”

Sister Beatrix looks a bit perplexed as Sister Honora goes on about Persephone. Finally Beatrix burst out, “Oh, Sister, I was just hoping for a Saint or Goddess we could honor with an open hearted Spring Festival. Persephone is so, well so serious!”

By then Sister Honora had finished her mug of mead, and so she burst out laughing, and said, “Well then, it’s Lada that you want! Dear, wonderful Lada, the Goddess of Spring and love. Back home in Poland, and I believe throughout much of Eastern Europe, at the first hints of Spring, every town and village would hold its most jubilant festival in honor of Lada, the Goddess of peace, harmony, joy, youth, love and beauty. She is the Goddess of spring, love and jubilation for your festival!

Lada is the Goddess of spring and love as I said. She was the one we would turn to in the old country when we were in need of protection, energy and joy.  Lada is the Goddess who would sweep away the ice and snow and cold of winter. As Lada moves through the land, her skirts sweep away the cold and sickness and call forth earth’s bounty and beauty. She carries with her branches from the birch tree and flowers to honor fertility and to invite planting the soil. So plan your festival with birch and bells.  Ring in the beginning and the end of the festival with bells and chimes. Sweep all of the floors and door lintels with birch brooms. Drink birch beer ice cream floats at the festival, so that the cold of the ice cream melts in the warmth of your mouth, symbolizing the transformative power of Lada, and bringing that transformative power into your own being.  Take a cake of ice, and place a seed on it, watch it melt throughout the festival, and then plant the seed in an honored place in our garden, watering it with ‘winter’s water’ to welcome Lada back to the earth and into our hearts and homes.

And there my dear sisters is your spring festival. A festival of joy, celebration and transformation. Shared with you in the joyful spirit of mead.”

And yet again, Sister Honora left Mother Magdalene in awe of her insight and wisdom. Sister Beatrix was positively giddy with plans for the festival. She and the other set off singing quietly, “Lada, Lada, Lada, Lada.” Sister Visentia was quietly planning how she might get birch beer to ferment. And all was well with the Sisters in the Cloister.

Why I Want to Grow a Beard

On By MaryIn laughter, social justiceLeave a comment

Back in 1993 or 1994 I was on sabbatical and was stressed out because I pretty much knew that no matter how much I wrote I was not going to get tenure at the university where I was working. I knew that they valued empirical research and I  was writing about theory.  As part of my most profound effort to deny and avoid thinking about all of that, I wrote a short essay called ‘why I want to grow a beard.’  The title of that has been popping up in my mind recently, for reasons unknown to me (unless it has something to do with those pesky post-menopausal facial hairs?), but anyway, I thought I would share the essay with you . . . hope you enjoy!

 

As I sit at my desk, staring out the window, avoiding work, there is a postcard tucked into the window ledge which says, “Every loving thought is true. Everything else is an appeal for healing and help, regardless of the form it takes.” The back of the card credits this quote to a course in miracles.

Today, as I sit and look and think, my mind drifts back to September and the beginning of my sabbatical. At that point I was feeling particularly anxious about productivity, my ability to write publishable material, and my ability to sustain a focus. So, there were days (lots of them) when I would get up, wash quickly (very quickly), have some coffee, and head down to the desk in the sweat suit that I had slept in the night before. After a few days of this, the sweats would walk down to the study by themselves and carry me along for the ride. Ultimately I would find my way to the bathtub and clean clothes; but do note the word ‘ultimately’ that opens the sentence. Well, a dear friend finally said to me, “Next you’ll be growing a beard!” and I got to thinking, could there be some truth in her proclamation? Or was it a plea for healing and help? For whom? Of what? Could it be that it was both true and a plea?

The short simple answer is, of course, it was a plea. The woman wanted me healed of that behavior pattern, and wanted help with improving my contribution to her view of the landscape. (The regular occurrence of a bath and of clean clothes beyond the same two pairs of sweats really is not all that unreasonable, I guess.)  But more interesting to me was the notion of growing a beard. Might I want to grow a beard?

What does it mean to grow a beard? Lots of things. Think about men on vacation. Some grow a beard as a sign they are stepping outside of their participation within the traditional institutions of the social structure. Within the dominant society, participants within the more powerful social institutions are expected/required to be straight forward (and straight), clean and clean-shaven. Growing a beard is a visible sign of momentarily stepping outside of one’s role within the social structure. For a man on vacation, it can be a sign of his appeal for personal rejuvenation (healing). For a man on a mission (as were the ancient prophets or contemporary social reformers or revolutionaries), it can be a sign of his appeal for social change or transformation (healing).

I want to be able to do that. I want a sign that ears witness to my stepping outside the social order to call for social change. So what is the parallel sign available to women? Well, truth be known, I don’t think there is one. At least I couldn’t think of one (other than becoming a lesbian and practicing witchcraft, but that is another set of reflections). So . . . but, why not? (Why not as in why is there not on, not why couldn’t I think of the parallel sign.)

Why not indeed. The current organization of the social structure precludes it. In order to be able to step outside of one’s assigned role within the social structure, one needs to first have an assigned role within it. I found myself coming back, yet again, to the recognition that, by and large, women do not have significant roles within the more powerful social institutions. (Oh sure, there are some significant roles that we’ve captured access to, but we all know that if we slowed the struggle for even a minute, the availability of those roles would be gone all too soon. And assignment [as in designated, selected, a position of duty] is very different from captured [as in seized by force or craft]). Women’s assigned, acknowledged social roles stand outside institutions of power and the power of institutions (actually underneath them). Women’s socially defined roles remain primarily nurturers, caregivers. Our backs still too often buffer and cushion the impact of the road our male partners and colleagues walk.

But we mostly know this. Why revisit old wounds? “Every loving thought is true. Everything else is an appeal for healing and help, regardless of the form it takes.” The absence of significant roles for women within the social institutions of power is an appeal for healing and help, all-be-it in a rather contorted form. Until it is an option for women to stand outside the social structure, an option that will only come into being when we stand with significance within the social structure, the social structure and social roles are in need of healing and transformation.

These reflections are a call for these truths to be re-membered, and re-visioned. These reflections are a call for the radical transformation of our consciousness and of society. These reflections are a call for the personal exclusion of women from roles of significance within institutions of power to be understood as a form or appeal for the political healing of the social structure. (Oh sweet mother, yes I said it again, the personal IS political.) In the meantime, I’m growing a beard.

 

So, I wrote that over 20 years ago. Sadly, I think it is still pretty much relevant and true enough. So sisters, let’s all go grow us some beards!

Thich Nhat Hanh and love

On By MaryIn loveLeave a comment

For a GDI feminist it often surprises me how many heroes I cherish, and even more how many of them are men. I guess it just goes to show that none of us are as simple as we might seem to be on first glance.  So this week I am celebrating my hero Thich Nhat Hanh.

Brother Thay, as he is called by his students, Thay means teacher in Vietnamese, was born in Vietnam in 1926. He became a novice monk when he was sixteen. When the war began in Vietnam, monks and nuns had to decide if they would remain within their cloisters and continue to practice contemplation or if they would move outside their walls of protection and help those who were suffering the effects of the war and the bombings. Brother Thay committed to doing both and he founded the Engaged Buddhism movement, a practice that he continues to this day working to bring the benefits of inner transformation to individuals and to society.

In the 1960’s Brother Thay founded the School of Youth and Social Services, a grass roots relief organization of volunteers based on the Buddhis principles of non-violence and compassionate action.

In the 1960’s he traveled the world to make the case for peace, working to end the fighting in Vietnam. Because of his actions inciting compassion and peace, both North and South Vietnam denied him the right to return to Vietnam, and so he began life as an exile from the country that was his home, from the land that he loved. And exile that lasted for 39 years. During his exile he continued to travel and work to bring an end to the war. He led the Buddhist delegation to the Paris Peace Talks in 1969.

Brother Thay also continued to teach, lecture and write on the art of mindfulness and on living peace. In 1975 he established a community in France that came to be known as Plum Village. Plum Village flourishes today, with a community of resident monastics and with visitors from around the world who come to learn the art of mindful living, to practice living peace.

Thich Nhat Hanh has written dozens of books. They are all wonderful. One of his most recent books is called “how to love.”  Here is a quote from that book:

If you pour a handful of salt into a cup of water, the water becomes undrinkable. But if you pour the salt into a river, people can continue to draw the water to cook, wash, and drink. The river is immense, and it has the capacity to receive, embrace, and transform. When our hearts are small, our understanding and compassion are limited, and we suffer. We can’t accept or tolerate others and their shortcomings, and we demand that they change. But when our hearts expand, these same things don’t make us suffer anymore. We have a lot of understanding and compassion and can embrace others. We accept others as they are, and then they have a chance to transform.

And the take away from this for me? Not only do we need to open our hearts to receive love, we need to open our hearts, to have big hearts if we will be lovers.

remember that commandment, the one that says, ‘love your neighbor as yourself.’ so, the first part of that, the foundation of it is that we should love ourselves. so, have a big, expansive, forgiving heart for yourself AND for others.

simple, yes? so let’s go practice!

Seeking the Harmony of Wisdom

On By MaryIn alchemy, AwarenessLeave a comment

There is a story that my grandmother said her grandmother told to her grandmother when she was a child living in the Tatra Mountains in the south of Poland. The story has it that at one point my grandmother’s grandmother’s grandmother’s father was having what we would call a midlife crisis. So, he went off in search of wisdom and the truth. Well, my family are not great adventurers by nature, so, Dziadek (grandfather) Janush walked over to the church and asked the priest where he could find wisdom. The good Father stroked his beard, and told Dziadek Janush to go up into the mountains where he would find a cave with a well near the back of it.

Dziadek came home, packed himself a lunch and set off to find the cave. Late in the afternoon as the shadows were beginning to lengthen, Dziadek found the very cave the good Father at the church had described. So, he went in, found the well, and after walking around the well three times in a clockwise direction, he bowed to the east and poured out the troubles of his heart and asked his question. From the very depths of the well came the answer, “Go down the other side of the mountain to the village crossroads. There you will find what you are seeking.”

With renewed hope and vigor, my Dziadek walked through the mountain pass to the other side of the mountain. He walked down the mountain to a little village he had never been to before, and on to the crossroads at the heart of the tiny village.  There he found three shops. They looked very poor and ramshackle to him. One was selling bits of metal, the second sold wood, and the third sold thin wire. It made no sense to him. What did this detritus have to do with wisdom or truth?

Sad and dejected, Dziadek walked back up the mountain, over the pass and back home again, this time feeling that the parish priest had played some kind of joke on him, and feeling rather foolish. He set out seeking wisdom and had been made a fool of instead. As he walked he cursed the priest. Without thinking he spat out words he had never said before in his life. Then, realizing what he had said, he set off to the Church, found the priest and asked the Father to hear his confession. Dziadek told the good Father all that had happened to him, and how he had been so disheartened and disappointed that he had cursed the priest without even thinking. The priest heard his confession, gave him penance and absolution, and said to my Dziadek, “Be patient my son. You will understand in the future.”

Time went by as time is wont to do. Days turned to weeks. Weeks became months. Months grew into years. And Dziadek settled into his routines and life took on a softness for him and his family. Then one evening Dziadek was walking by the Church rectory where the priest lived and he heard the sound of sweet music coming from the porch.  The music was sweet and haunting and quite wonderful. Dziadek stood there in rapt attention watching the priest play the suka, a Polish fiddle like instrument. The Father’s fingers danced on the strings, he played with masterful concentration and ease. Then Dziadek began to notice the suka itself. It was made of beautiful carved wood, with the strings attached to it with metal pieces. And standing there in the moonlight, watching the good Father play and listening to the music, the light dawned on Dziadek, the suka was made with wood, metal and wire, just like those sold in the stores which he thought were bits of scrap and junk.

Finally he understood the message from the well. We are all always already given everything that we need. Our responsibility is to see the relationships and connections among the elements, to assemble the parts of our lives and use them in the best way possible. Nothing is meaningful when we see only the disparate parts in isolation. But once we put the parts together, we discover the alchemy of synthesis and harmony, a whole new creation comes into being that we could not have foreseen by looking only at each part independently. We must find the synergistic alchemy and interdependence of all of the elements of our lives if we are to live well, if we are to live in harmony with each other and with our environment.

And with that realization fresh in his heart, Dziadek went home to share his thoughts and insights with his dear wife. Anastasia listened thoughtfully to her husband, smiled and said. “Indeed, my dear heart. It is good to know that a tomato is a fruit. It is wise to know that it does not belong in a fruit salad. Even as we learn the nature of each, we must also understand the relationship of one to another and to all. And that my dear is the heart of true alchemy.”

And they did indeed live happily ever after.

 

The inspiration for this story came from Roger Darlinton’s blog, http://www.rogerdarlington.me.uk/