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.

The Cold Within and Niemoeller’s “first they came for the …” and Hillel’s three questions

On By MaryIn alchemy, growth into humanity, stories for social changeLeave a comment

When we think about alchemy for social justice it can be a slippery slop to thinking, “but why should I have to do all the changing?!?” what about them!

Well, in my teaching days, I would remind my students about the flaw in blaming the victim — seeing a social problem, studying those most impacted by the problem, seeing how those with the problem differ from those not effected by the issue (studying the effects not the causes), and then launching into change efforts focused on getting those with the problem to change (addressing the effects and not the causes). 

But, this is a place for stories not lectures, so I won’t go into all of that here. Rather, here is a bit of a poem to warm our hearts and to soften and open them to the alchemy of personal and social change! 

The Cold Within

Author Unknown

Six men were trapped by circumstances in bleak and bitter cold
Each one possessed a stick of wood, or so the story’s told.
The dying fire in need of logs, the first man held his back
Because of faces round the fire, he noticed one was black.
The second man saw not one of his own local church
And couldn’t bring himself to give the first his stick of birch.
The poor man sat in tattered clothes and gave his coat a hitch.
Why should he give up his log to warm the idle rich?
The man sat and thought of all the wealth he had in store
And how to keep what he had earned from the lazy, shiftless poor.
The black man’s face spoke revenge and the fire passed from his sight
Because he saw in his stick of wood a chance to spite the white.
The last man of this forlorn group did naught except for gain,
Only to those who gave to him was how he played the game.
Their logs held tight in death’s still hands was proof of human sin.
They didn’t die from cold without; they did from The Cold Within. 

This poem very much reminds me of the quote attributed to Martin Niemoeller, a Protestant pastor born January 14, 1892, in Lippstadt, Westphalia. “First they came for the Communists, but I was not a Communist so I did not speak out. Then they came for the Socialists and the Trade Unionists, but I was neither, so I did not speak out. Then they came for the Jews, but I was not a Jew so I did not speak out. And when they came for me, there was no one left to speak out for me.” 

And that quote then reminds me of Hillel’s three questions: “If I am not for myself, then who will be for me? And if I am only for myself, then what am I? And if not now, when?” so many questions, so much to do, and only now to begin…

The Scorpion and the Frog

On By MaryIn change, growth into humanity9 Comments

Once upon a time in a land where anthropomorphism was alive and well, there lived a scorpion who lived on a secluded mountain. The scorpion was well known in throughout the community, and was regarded with wariness by one and all. The scorpion grew weary of this, was hoping for a bit of challenge and intrigue. So the scorpion set off down the mountain and across the valley looking for change and adventure. Soon enough there came the Delaware River. Just the day before there had been a heavy rain storm, and the river was at near flood level, it was wide and running swiftly.  The scorpion stood on the bank, considering the situation. New Jersey was calling out. It was the land of Jersey Shore, Jerseylicious, and The Real Housewives of Jersey. This was the place to be. But as the scorpion paused and looked, there was not see a way across the river. Running upstream and downstream, and the waters looks too wide, too deep, too fast to be forded even by a mean and lean scorpion.

 Just on the verge of abandoning hope, then the scorpion came across a frog sitting on the bank just across the river, “Hey, Froggy, would you be kind enough to carry me across the river?” the scorpion shouted across.

 “Yo, scorpion, what kind of fool do you take me for!” the frog responded. “How do I know you won’t take me out with your stinger?”

 “Easy queasy” replied the scorpion, “If I kill you, I will drown! I can’t swim; otherwise I would just pop in the river and swim across on my own.”

 The frog thought about it, and then asked, “so, how do I know you won’t wait until we are close to the other side, and then you would sting me and kill me when you don’t need me anymore?”

 “Gratitude,” said the scorpion. “Once you have carried me across the river, I will be so grateful to you my gratitude would prevent me from such an action.”

 The frog thought a bit more, what the scorpion said made sense, and so the frog swam across the river, jumped up the other bank and agreed to carry the scorpion across the river from Pennsylvania to New Jersey.

 The scorpion crawled onto the frog and with his claws, held onto the frog’s delicate back for dear life.  The frog jumped into the Delaware, but stayed near the surface so that the scorpion would not drown. The current carried the two unlikely travelers downstream, much as it had as Washington attempted his crossing of the very same (but different) river some years before, and like Washington before them, they made progress across the river. They were just about half way across the Delaware when the frog felt a sharp sting, and turning to see what had happened, the frog saw the scorpion pulling a stinger from the frog’s back. The frog was stunned! How could this be happening! The scorpion had sworn an oath! As the frog felt the numbness permeate limbs and his body, the frog croaked out, to the scorpion, “you fool! What did you do? Now we will both die! And for what?!?”

 The scorpion shrugged and said, “It’s my nature, I just couldn’t help myself” even as they both sank to the river bottom.

 Just one’s nature! Do we have an immutable nature?

 Is change possible?

 Should we trust? Who? When?

 Is altruism foolish?

 Does no good deed go unpunished?

 There are no answers here today, just questions. But, maybe wisdom is knowing the right questions?

Plato, the Allegory of the Cave and National Coming Out Day

On By MaryIn Uncategorized1 Comment

Plato was one of the early Greek SPA boys (Socrates, Plato and Aristotle). He was a philosopher, an epistemologist (don’t stop reading yet, epistemology is just one of my favorite 75 cent words – it gets at how we think about what we know and whether we can trust what we know), in Book 7 of the Republic, he wrote “the Allegory of the Cave” as a way to think about some of the difficulties related to knowledge. I also think of the “Allegory of the Cave” as having some important implications related to coming out (coming out of the cave, out of the closet – it could be funny of you don’t think about it too hard?). October 11 is National Coming Out Day, so I felt like I had to say something about coming out! Anyway, gere is an abridged, paraphrased version of the allegory of the cave….

Plato asks his students to imagine that human beings lived in an underground cave. The people of the cave have lived there all their lives. Their legs and necks are chained so that they cannot move. They can only see what is in front of them because the chains prevent them from even turning their heads around. Behind and above the cave people there is a balcony with a bonfire burning. Between the cave people and the balcony, there is a wall with a walkway behind it. People walk along this walkway, carrying large containers and statues. All of the things that are being carried show over the wall and the light from the bonfire behind them casts a constantly moving shadow on the wall of the cave.

Because of the way they are chained and because of the fire behind everything, the people of the cave only see the shadows that dance on the cave wall. So, for the people of the cave, the truth is literally nothing but the shadows of the images.

But then, one day the people of the cave are released from their chains. One of them soon turns and looks at the light. But, remember what it is like when you have been in a dark room and you walk out into the sunlight? Your first reaction is to close your eyes because it hurts. Even when you re-open your eyes, it is hard to see anything at all because of the glare. Even more so for the people of the cave who have no experience at all with looking into the light. And so it takes a while for the people of the cave to become accustomed to the light, and to learn to clearly understand what they were seeing. Someone of them has to be the first to risk the pain of peering into the light, of experiencing the new vision, and of communicating that vision to the others in the cave. It is likely that others will not believe the new vision at first, perhaps until some others also brave the experience.

The allegory holds a number of lessons that can carry to build an understanding of human behavior that contributes to a culture of justice and respect for human rights. The belief that the shadow of reality IS reality is analogous to the belief that any one way of being is the only correct, normal, true way of being. Heterosexual, Christian, white, male, able bodied all of those ways of being have been held to be the only correct, normal, true way of being. Coming out of the cave of shadows can be difficult and painful, but there is so much more richness to life than mere shadows. The rainbow of diversity is worth discovering, exploring and celebrating!

The allegory of the cave reminds us that there is often more to human behavior than meets the eye. Sometimes what we think we are seeing is not what is really happening. It reminds us that the search for truth requires taking some risks; the search for truth can involve some personal struggle, but it is worth the struggle. And sometimes, maybe even often, it helps to have a good teacher who has traveled the road before us who can guide us in our path of discovery.

Come out, come out where every you are!! Happy Coming Out Day!

Forgiveness, humor and Ms. Neely-Templeton

On By MaryIn forgiveness, stories for social changeLeave a comment

In other blog entries I have written about the importance of forgiveness and a sense of humor.  This story adds longevity to the mix … In my dreams about what a world that was structured to uphold social justice and that honored human rights, women like the one in this story would hold a very special place.  Indeed, we all should live so long as to be this kind of lady!

So, while I’m not much of a church going soul these days, once upon a time in another time and universe, one Sunday I found myself in one of the local churches – I was kind of drawn to it as the Café I set off for was closed, and the bill board said the talk (homily?) was about forgiveness – so I though, what the ‘h’ I’ll see what she has to say.  So, the good reverend launched into her talk and reminded everyone about the new testament invocation to forgive those who you think have wronged you seven times seventy times – a nice reminder I thought.  Then as she was pulling things together, she asked the congregation for a show of hands: “How many of you can say that you have forgiven at least most of your enemies?”

 Fortunately for me, I was sitting in the back, so I could see that nearly two thirds of the good folks in the church raised their hands. The minister then rephrased her question and asked, “How many of you can say that you want to forgive your enemies?”

 To that question I could see that the entire congregation gladly raised their hands, all but one gracious, elegantly poised lady sitting in the very front of the church. Well, I settled back in my seat and thanked the sweet goddess that I live in Milford, confident in the knowledge that if I mess up, the odds are pretty good that I can hope to be pardoned by my neighbors – all but one apparently!

The minister smiled a wry little grin and asked, “Ms. Neely-Templeton, do you mean that you are not willing to forgive you enemies?”
 
“Good, Reverend Pastor, I just don’t have any enemies to forgive,” she replied, smiling sweetly.

“Ms. Neely-Templeton, that is remarkable. And, how old are you?”

“Ninety-eight,” she replied. As if we were one, everyone in the congregation – I will confess to it, even me – we all stood up and clapped our hands with awe and respect and the generous, compassionate heart that this woman must have been nurturing all her years.  It just nearly brought tears to my eyes.

“Ms. Neely-Templeton, would you please stand up and tell us all how a person can live ninety-eight years and not have an enemy in the world? What is your secret for forgiveness?”

With all of her poise, grace and elegance, Ms. Neely-Templeton stood up, smiled warmly at the minister, turned to face the congregation, and said, “I just outlived the sons-a-bitches.”

 I left church that day with a radiant smile on my face and glowing warmth in the very depths of the cockles of my heart. In my world of justice and human rights, there will be a lot of folks just like Ms. Neely-Templeton.

Last night I wrote the strangest blog — the bull and the butterfly

On By MaryIn alchemy, change, growth into humanity, spiritual growth, stories for social change, vision and perspective1 Comment

Now and again I find myself thinking, wondering, not quite worrying about where the next story will come from. When I find myself in those quandaries I meander over to the computer and google (how DID we ever live without google?).  So, recently I googled “social change” and “stories.” When that didn’t yield what I wanted, I tried “parables” instead. That lead to some interesting links.  One was a parable about a bull and a butterfly. 

 In my version of the parable there was a bull named Butch who wanted to trash a china shop because the rumor around the farm was that the owner of the shop not only did not carry fair trade china, but also participated in human trafficking. But, Butch resisted the urge because he did not want to feed the ‘bull in a china shop’ stereotypes, and he didn’t want to wind up in the slaughter house becoming nothing more than burger meat for some fast food chain. So, butch stomped around the pasture storming and steaming, but getting nothing much done. As he paused under a tree, a butterfly, Mariposa, landed on Butch’s ear, and asked him what the trouble was. Butch twitched his ear, to be rid of her, but Mariposa was not to be dissuaded.

“Butch, what’s up with you today?” She persisted.

Butch was nothing if not a realist, so he told her the story.

Mariposa laughed at hearing the story, paragon of empathy and compassion that she is not. “Butch, you have been rendered impotent by your self-consciousness and social anxiety. Big as you are, I have more power than you. I am fast, I am nimble, I can flit, I can fly. I can render the butterfly effect. I flap my wings in California and incite a tornado in New Jersey.”

At that Butch laughed, and said, “Well, Ms. Mariposa, I suppose then we are about equal, if you have all of that power and don’t bother to use it.”

 And the meaning of this parable? So many I suppose … impotence rendered by excessive worry about what others will think, by fear of consequences, by attachment to identities. 

 And, as I thought about the meanings and implications I found myself caught on the idea of attachments and identities, and I remember Chuang Tzu’s dream about a butterfly. One night Chuang Tzu dreamt that he was a butterfly, flying here and there and seeing the world from new heights, gaining a new perspective on life and living. He woke with a new sense of lightness. And then he thought to himself, “yesterday, was I a man who dreamt about being a butterfly, or today am I a butterfly who dreams about being a man?” And, as he rose to greet the day, he said to the sangha, “last night I had the strangest dream.”

 And, that phrase of course led me to remembering the Arlo Guthrie, Joan Baez and Simon and Garfunkel tune …  

 Last Night I Had The Strangest Dream

words and music by Ed McCurdy

 Last night I had the strangest dream I’d ever dreamed before I dreamed the world had all agreed To put an end to war

 I dreamed I saw a mighty room Filled with women and men And the paper they were signing said They’d never fight again

 And when the paper was all signed And a million copies made They all joined hands and bowed their heads And grateful pray’rs were prayed

 And the people in the streets below Were dancing ’round and ’round While swords and guns and uniforms Were scattered on the ground

 Last night I had the strangest dream I’d never dreamed before I dreamed the world had all agreed To put an end to war.

And I know that dreaming is not enough. But I also know that dreaming is a necessary first step. Dreaming, meaning making … and then action, yes? yes!

 All of which led me to write this strangest blog.

 And, so, please … it really is time to share!  What meanings can you find in the parable of the bull and the butterfly? What meanings can you find in any of this? What actions are you taking for peace and justice?

Finding Sister Visentia and the story of the empty stomach

On By MaryIn Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, growth into humanity, vision and perspectiveLeave a comment

When we last saw Sister Visentia she was dangling off the edge of a cliff near the South Branch of the Raritan River. She had been chased over the cliff by a mother bear. As she came to the edge of the cliff, she grabbed onto a vine thinking she would find a way to the bottom – only to see a snarling pack of coyotes below. It was about then that she looked more carefully at the vine that was her life line, and she noticed two things: a luscious strawberry, and some mice gnawing on the vine.  Out Sister Visentia being who she was, she plucked the strawberry with her free hand and deeply savored its sweetness. And the “Family of Bears” blog entry ended there.

 What transpired just as we left the scene is that a young man flying an ultra-light aircraft happened by just at that moment. He noticed Visentia dangling from the vine and took stock of her situation. Just as he flew by, Sister Visentia saw him and recognized the pilot as the young man she had saved from drowning earlier in the summer. She waved and called out to him, but he just flew by. Sister Visentia’s hopes rose and were dashed in the same quick instant. She knew that he saw her dangling there. How could he just fly off and leave her there. He must have recognized her; she certainly recognized and remembered him. How could he forget someone who had saved his life? How could he abandon someone who had saved his life!?!  But he was gone and that was all there was to it. Nothing had changed; she had to remember to focus on the sweetness of the strawberry. She wanted her last thoughts to be ones of joy and appreciation. She really did want that.

 And then she thought she heard the sound of the ultra-light getting louder. She looked out and didn’t see it. But, then she looked down and saw the ultra light flying ridiculously close to the ground. What was he doing? Then she realized he was buzzing the coyotes and chasing them off. And as she looked down she noticed that the ultra-light had only one seat. There he was herding the  pack of coyotes off away from the bottom of the cliff. One problem removed. But it was still a very tall cliff, and the vine was just about at breaking point.

 With the coast clear for a landing, Sister Visentia started to look around in more earnest for a pathway to the bottom. There were a few scrub bushes below her, maybe they would break her fall. Just as a plan began to take shape in her mind, the vine gave way, and the base of the cliff came rushing towards her.

 “Tuck and roll.” Visentia heard a man’s voice call out to her.

 Reflexively she tucked into a fetal position, protecting her face and front and she let herself roll down the face of the cliff. Eventually, after the longest couple of minutes of her life, Visentia felt her tumbling halted by strong, careful hands. She looked up from the ground into the eyes of the man she had saved from drowning only weeks before.

 “Good afternoon, Sister. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Javier de Esperar. I believe that I owe you my thanks for saving my life? I apologize for not thanking you properly earlier, but I – well, I did not think that I was dressed properly for the occasion. But perhaps now our accounts are somewhat in balance?”

 Sister Visentia collected herself. She gathered her thoughts, straightened her limbs and robes, and struggled to stand up, even as she smiled, “Well, indeed. You are quite welcome, and I am most grateful, Javier. I am delighted to see you again. Twice in one summer it seems that I have tested my vows and both times with you.”

 Visentia winced and moaned as she tried to stand up. Javier looked crestfallen. “Sister, I trust these innocent transgressions of your vows should not cause you such grave pain?”

 “Ah, Javier, my new friend, it is not the condition of my vows that are the source of my pain. It is the condition of my arm. I am afraid that I have broken it.”

 Javier looked more carefully at Sister Visentia’s arm, asked her if he might touch it, and then very quickly before she could respond, he took her arm in both his hands and pulled and twisted it in one smooth, if painful, movement. Visentia started, yelped, and then looked relieved. “what?”

 “I am a chiropractor.” Javier responded before she could finish her question. “You dislocated your shoulder in the tumble. It should be fine now. But you may want to baby it a little for the next few days. Sister, may I ask you a question?” and without waiting for her response, Javier continued, “I must admit that I was flying over the area looking to see if I could find you. I indeed wanted to thank you properly for saving my life the other day. When I first saw you, you were not alone. What happened to the other sister who was walking with you? How could she have run off and left you alone with that mother bear chasing you? What is wrong with that woman? Has she no sense of care or community?”

 “Oh Javier, that was Sister Septimus, and I must admit she is her own kind of person. Indeed, she has gone off somewhere. But, Javier, let me tell you a bit of a story that helps me to understand and appreciate Sister Septimus. You are a medical man, so you may appreciate this story. My mother was a philosopher, and she use to tell me this tale often when I was frustrated with my sister when I was much younger.  Mom would remind me: ‘in the earliest days of the creation of humans, not all the body parts  worked together in harmony the way we find them to work in our own times. Each member of the body, each part had its own opinion and ideas of how to function and of how to relate to all the other parts.  Each body part thought it was the most important, that its way of working was the best method, and that its function was the most crucial in keeping the new humans alive and healthy.  A revolt was brewing among them.  The various body parts began to grumble and complain, and finally the focus settled on the stomach as a lazy bag that just sat in their midst and collected and enjoyed the fruits of their persistent, diligent work. They were angry and insulted that they all worked so hard, and the stomach just sat there taking it all in without effort or gratitude.   And so one day all of the other body parts colluded in a revolution. The hands would bring nothing to the mouth, the mouth would take in no food, the teeth refused to chew – they would reign in the stomach and give it nothing but hunger – the first hunger games you might say. But, soon enough, their dedication to punishing the stomach and teaching it the need for discipline and persistence brought starvation and weakness to each of the other body parts – they were wasting away.  Finally they realized that the work of the stomach was nothing insignificant, that indeed the stomach too gave back to the body. As a result, they realized that the work done by the stomach was no small matter, and that the food he consumed was no more than what he gave back to all the parts of the body in the through the digested food which nurtured them all through the blood, and which cleansed them through the intestines and so on.’  At that point in the story my Mom would smile, and remind me that we all have a part to play in the larger body of life. Sometimes that part is clear to see and sometimes it hidden from our view. But we must trust each other and help each other as best we can by living out the best that we can be, each of us being simply our selves, each of us playing our own part – because as Mom also used to say, all the other parts are already taken.”

Javier smiled at the story. “Your Mom was quite a woman.”

“She was indeed. Then, because she was a philosopher and didn’t quite know when to stop, Mom would remind us that tolerance is not enough. It was only when each of the body parts came to understand and celebrate each other in all of their differences and diversity that they call came to flourish.”

“Ah, indeed, she was a wise woman.” Javier concluded.

Wanting to have MU

On By MaryIn alchemy, Koan, spiritual growthLeave a comment

 We were sitting in the student center, each drinking a cup of coffee, saying our goodbyes. Over the past semester, Ludis and I had co-taught a course, we had talked about life and hopes and dreams, I guess you could say that we had become friends of a sort. Why the qualification? Well, we never went out to dinner, we didn’t do things off campus, we didn’t exactly hang out together. But we did talk before and after class, and we seemed to like each other well enough. So, friends of a sort. As we sat there talking, I asked Ludis if he was ready to head home to Lithuania.

 “In many ways, more than ready. I very much miss my wife and son. It has been far too long since I have seen them. I want to hold them both, each of them, for a long time.” He said blushing a bit at the last admission.

 “And, are you packed? Is there anything you want to do here that you haven’t gotten to yet?”

 “Yes, one more thing.” He said. “I want to buy a sweatshirt from your book store.”

 “A sweatshirt?” I asked a bit incredulous. Ludis just didn’t seem the kind of guy who would care very much about college logo clothing. Let’s just say, in the months that I had known him he did not strike me as a clothes horse. He did not dress badly, but he certainly was neither flashy nor cool. More, I saw him as guy who always wore neat, clean clothes but who had more important things on his mind than haute couture. So, his one last desire being the acquisition of a university logo garment seemed kind of odd.

 “I don’t understand, Ludis, what’s so special about a sweatshirt from here?”

 “Think about it, he laughed, the school’s initials are MU.”

 “And?”

 “And you talk about Zen Buddhism?.” He said sounding a little disappointed.

 “I do, some. But what’s that got to do with it?”

 “MU” he said, “the school for you here, and the koan for Buddhists.”

 And then, finally the light went on for me. Of course, the great Buddhist koan, also known as the first gate to enlightenment. For over ten years I had taught at the university. How many times each year had I written the school’s initials, and I never saw the connection! How many times had I read and reread and meditated on that Koan! At one point I even thought I was beginning to get it. Ugh. Clearly, I did not have it yet. But then, that too is the point of the koan, isn’t it?

 In Japanese, Korean and traditional Mandarin, ‘mu’ means not, nothing, nothingness, without, non-existent or non-being. For Zen Buddhists, one of the first koans is known as MU. A koan is riddle like paradox used to demonstrate the inadequacy of logical reasoning as the only mode of knowing; mediation on koans help to provoke openness to enlightenment. The ‘mu’ koan is put this way: a student asked the Great Master Zhaozhou, “does a dog have Buddha nature?” Zhaozhou replied, “Mu.”

 So, the koan can be understood as asking about the meaning of life, the purpose of life, about attachments and possession, it asks about the vastness of life, and offers to teach about how to live and how to love. For an ultra short story, it holds great depths of potential if we are willing to plumb the depths that await us.

 I thought I had been doing some plumbing of the ‘mu’ koan. I thought about it in connection with the adage: if you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him. That meaning that if you think you have found enlightenment outside yourself, you are quite mistaken, and so end that delusion. Does a dog have Buddha nature? No because it is not a thing to be had. Buddha nature is more about being than having. I thought all these things as I plumbed the ‘mu’ koan. I thought I was plumbing a bit. And then Ludis showed me that I had not even picked up the wrench!

 When I finally saw the connection, we both sat and laughed for a good long while. Ludis bought the sweatshirt. I left without mu.

The Bengali Tea Boy & Be Grateful to Everyone, Change Yourself

On By MaryIn alchemy, change, spiritual growth3 Comments

Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi was a 13 century Muslim poet, theologian and Sufi mystic in Persia, today’s Iran. His thoughts and ideas continue to offer a wealth of wisdom and inspiration. The one that I find myself thinking about today says: “yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.” Well, not that I have any claim to wisdom, but if charity begins at home, then maybe social change begins at home as well.

 Pema Chodron is one of my favorite Buddhist teachers. In her book, “Start where you are: a guide to compassionate living” she tells a story about Atisha, a renown Buddhist teacher from northeast Bengal, today’s Bangladesh, who lived between 980 and 1050 CE. Atisha was preparing to travel to Tibet where he was going to share his knowledge of Buddhism with the people there. As he prepared for his journey, he heard reports that the Tibetan people were very good-natured. His scouts told him that the people of Tibet were earthy in their understanding of the world, flexible in their thinking, and open to new ideas. On one level this was very reassuring and gave Atisha great joy, as he hoped he would be welcomed and his teachings well received. On another level Atisha was afraid that his personal spiritual growth would be stunted. One of his beliefs was that our greatest teachers are those people we find most obnoxious, frustrating or contemptible because they mirror and reflect back to us those very aspects of our selves that are obnoxious, frustrating or contemptible – what we most dislike in others is that which we do not accept in ourselves.

As he developed his itinerary and roster of traveling cmpanions for the trip to Tibet, Atisha invited his tea boy to go along with him on the trip to Tibet. All of the other monks in the traveling party were quite surprised by the invitation, as the tea boy was known for his mean spirited irritability, but the young man was also from Bengal, and the monks thought that perhaps this was Atisha’s was of keeping his home culture close to him. When Atisha caught word of the monks’ presumption, he laughed, and corrected their misconception. Rather he told them he wanted the Bengali tea boy near him to ensure that his spiritual growth would not be stunted by the equanimity of the peoples of Tibet. The story has it that once Atisha arrived in Tibet he discovered much to his delight and chagrin that he need not have worried about his need for the Bengali tea boy, the Tibetans themselves were just as obnoxious, frustrating and contemptible as the rest of humanity. Challenges to foster Atisha’s spiritual growth were bountiful – the people there were not as pleasant as he had been told. 

And so it is, we are all, each of us obnoxious, frustrating or contemptible each in our own way. And so we can each work to change ourselves as a foundation for building virtues and a vision of a world where fairness and dignity are respected and honored. And, in the meantime, we can each be grateful to everyone who as they visit us with their obnoxious, frustrating or contemptible behavior stands as a mirror inviting us to witness those very characteristic in ourselves.

Now, I am a child of the 60’s – OK, really the 70’s, but it is still so much cooler to claim the 60’s – the point is, I remember pacificism, and “Be grateful to everyone” is not a naïve all accepting defenselessness. If you are in danger of getting mugged, defend yourself or run for safety. “Be grateful to everyone” gets to at a complete change of attitude. Pema Chodron reminds us that the  slogan actually gets at the guts of how we perfect ignorance through avoidance, not knowing we’re poisoning ourselves with our ways of being, not knowing that we’re putting another layer of protection over our heart, not seeing the whole picture. In our own lives, the Bengali tea boys are the people who, when you let them through the front door of your house, go right down to the basement where you store the things you’d rather not deal with, pick out one of them, bring it to you, and say “Is this yours?” “Be grateful to everyone” means that all situations teach you, and often it’s the tough ones that teach you the best.

So, be wise, change yourself. Be grateful to everyone, even – maybe especially your very own Bengali tea boy.

Watch out for Silver Lamps

On By MaryIn growth into humanity, stories for social changeLeave a comment

Over the course of time any relationship will develop its own package of quirks, oddities and idiosyncrasies. If the relationship is happy and healthy it will grow inside jokes and code words. One of our code words is “silver lamp” and the story of how that came to have its meaning is kind of funny and maybe worth retelling – maybe.

So, way too many years ago when we were just getting to know each other, when we were newly living together, a couple of young beginning professionals, we were in circumstances that we described as “Champaign taste and a beer pocketbook.” It’s an odd reference in itself, since we don’t especially love Champaign; our tastes run more to red wine, maybe cabernet sauvignon or merlot. But, the image is apt enough – we liked nice things, but we were young and new in our professions and so – well we needed to be careful about budgeting.

We had been living in a very (VERY) small one bedroom apartment. The apartment had a hallway that we called the kitchen because that’s where the sink, stove and refrigerator were located – a person could be there and do some cooking, but two people in that space was more than a little tight. There was a living room where all of the living happened, and that was about it. The living room was interesting in its own right though because the building was old, the apartment was on the second floor looking out over the river, and the foundation was sinking ever so slowly and slightly on one side. So, anything set down in one place would be found a few inches away soon enough because of the slope. Cat toys were great because they very fluidly rolled across the floor with no help from us at all. I still miss the quirks of that first apartment. But more space is even nicer.

Because we were indeed careful and plan-full about budgeting we finally saved up enough to move into a condominium. The condo was still one bedroom, but it had a real kitchen (not just a hallway with appliances), and a dining room and living room! The square footage we were going to be furnishing grew exponentially, as did our furnishing needs.

We needed to get a good bit of new furniture, and we were committed to our budget. So, off we went to shop – furniture stores, department stores, all kinds of store. We found most of what we needed/wanted – a dining room table and chairs, comfortable chairs for the living room, proper desks and bookshelves, lots of stuff.  We settled in to our new space, and life was sweet. We were happy. And, then as we actually settled in, we (mostly I) realized that we really did not have a comfortable reading space. We had wonderful chairs and a nice sofa. But the light was just not good. So, after looking, thinking and processing the situation for a good bit (remember two women can process anything for ever).  We had just spent a lot of money. The condominium was starting to look good and was feeling comfortable. All we needed was one more lamp.

So, back to the stores we went – furniture stores, department stores, lighting stores, all kinds of stores. We saw lots of lamps – most of them where just not quite right, and the ones that came close didn’t fit the budget. So we kept looking. And then we discovered Ikea. What a find! Great furniture (well, OK, lots of furniture some of it great) at very reasonable prices. What a find. So, we shopped for a floor lamp. We each had an image of what we were looking for (not necessarily a good thing when you are talking about two women who took 8 months to find the ‘right’ white shirt). So, we looked. We had seen some lamps that we liked quite a lot, but they were a good bit more than we wanted to spend, so we kept looking. Then, there we were back at Ikea. We had already scoured every other store we could envision. So, we scoured the lighting section at Idea and found a lamp that pretty much fit the description of what we were looking for, it was kind of alright. It wasn’t exactly what either of us wanted, but the color was right, the shape was in the right family – white shade, silver pole, white base, simple, clean Scandinavia style. Not quite as upscale as we wanted, but upscale costs and the price was right.

We both stood there looking at it. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know what do you think?

“Well … I asked you first.”

“OK, but I’m not sure. Do you like it?”

“It’s OK, I guess. What do you think?”

“It is the size and color we want. Silver [chrome really, but the color was silver looking] will go with the colors in the sofa.”

“And it’s not expensive.”

“And we need a lamp.”

In all of that conversation, you will notice the lack of enthusiasm. Never a good sign. But there was nothing exactly wrong with the lamp. So we bought it, and brought it home.

Once we got home, I unboxed it, put it together (yes, I am one of the few people in the world who can actually understand and follow Idea directions. And, on the second iteration of assembly I even get things put together correctly.) So, the lamp is now together and in place in our new living room. And it was – well, it was kind of OK. It was just missing a bit  of, well of je-ne-sais-quoi. It shed light well enough, it was quite functional. It just didn’t have that something that makes things right. Once it was put together and in the right place, plugged in, and turned on .. well, it worked. We both looked at it, and while we didn’t hate it, we didn’t love it either. But, we had it, Ikea was a long drive, the price was right, so we decided to live with it. And, as we lived with the silver lamp, we learned to tolerate it. That was my first lesson that tolerance is not good enough. Whenever I am doing diversity work and someone advocates ‘tolerance’ of a group that is different, I remember our tolerance of the silver lamp, and I know that I don’t want to be tolerated, and I don’t want any of my friends to be tolerated.

Back to the lamp.  Well, sooner rather than later, we saved up a bit of money, went out shopping again and found the right lamp, one that really looked good, one that we both really liked. The new lamp was brass, and we came home feeling like we had caught the brass ring on the carrousel. Yes, the new lamp cost a little bit more than the ‘silver lamp’ but if we had saved the money we spent for the silver lamp and just put that on the brass one, we would have saved money in the long run.

So, a ‘silver lamp’ for us is something that looks like a bargain, but winds up being unsatisfactory and costs more in the long run. And, tolerable really isn’t all that acceptable or endurable. Good enough is only good enough if it is great.

Have there been silver lamps in your life? come on, share!!

What are some of the code words that have developed in your relationships?

Indra’s Web — a pearl of an idea about the alchemy of change

On By MaryIn alchemy, cosmology2 Comments

All too often when we think about working for social change, working for social justice and human rights, we are confronted with the disillusioning question, “what difference will this make?”

There are a number of relevant responses to the opening sentence. First, thinking too much can cause problems. The alchemy of social change for justice is in fact grounded in action.  There is a place for thought and analysis for sure, but thought and analysis need to be balanced with compassion (and care) and action.  Maybe one of the most poignant responses to the temptation to disillusionment fostered by the question “what difference will this make?” is the quote attributed to the Dalai Lama: “If you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito.”  Size doesn’t matter at much as dedicated intention! And, of course there is the butterfly effect of chaos theory which posits that a small change at one place (in a non linear system) can result in large differences in a larger state. The butterfly effect is wonderfully consistent with alchemical transformation! And, then there is the story (you knew there had to be a story coming at some point!) of Indra’s web.

In Hindu mythology, Indra is a warrior god, the king of the gods, who is credited with saving the world from the cosmic serpent. Indra is also credited with weaving a web that extends throughout all of space and time. It is said that when Indra created the world he wove it as a web, and at each of the points where the lines of the web cross, Indra tied a knot and in each knot he placed a radiant jewel. Some say the jewel is a pearl, some say it is a perfect crystal, today we might say the jewel is a holograph.

Everything that has existed, that exists now and that ever will exist, each and every idea, each bit of creation, each sentient being, all are jewels in Indra’s web. Each jewel is tied to every other jewel in Indra’s web, each is reflected in every other jewel, each is implied in every other jewel. Each jewel reflects and contains every other jewel in this cosmic matrix, so that each jewel is intrinsically and intimately connected to every other jewel – a change in one is reflected in all the others, in every other. (you might want to pause here and think about the range of meanings of ‘reflected in’). 

Alan Watts tells the story this way: “Imagine a multidimensional spider’s web in the early morning covered with dew drops. And every dew drop contains the reflection of all the other dew drops. And, in each reflected dew drop, the reflections of all the other dew drops in that reflection. And so on, ad infinitum. That is the Buddhist conception of the universe in an image.”

Every jewel represents an individual life form, atom, cell or unit of consciousness. Each and every jewel highlights the interdependence of all beings, of all of creation. And, because everything is interdependent, nothing is small, trivial, or inconsequential. 

One moral to take from Indra’s web is that you cannot damage one strand of the web that is the universe without damaging the others or setting off a cascade effect of destruction. And by the same token the interdependence of all highlights that the compassionate and the constructive interventions a person makes or does can also produce a ripple effect of beneficial action.  Action, dedicated intention, the butter fly effect and Indra’s web – all reflecting the interdependence of all life, we are all inter-dependent on each other, it ALL matters. (so, I guess the hokey pokey is NOT what it’s all about, or is it?)

The metaphor of Indra’s Jeweled web is Attributed to an ancient Buddhist named Tu-Shun (557-640 A.D.). Fritjof Capra refers to it in Tao of physics: an exploration of the parallels between modern physics and Eastern mysticism, as does Douglas Hofstadter in Gödel, Escher, Bach; andTimothy Brook in Vermeer’s Hat.

Any thoughts about Indra’s web and our places in it? Your place in it? We are our brothers/sisters keepers … we are reflections of each other … whatever happens to anyone of us happens to all of us … in Bantu, ‘ubuntu’ — I am because you are … and the circle, which is a web, goes one …