Category: vision and perspective

Why did god (the gods, the goddess) make you? As a servant? As a chip off the old block? Or to search for your better half?

On By MaryIn Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, cosmology, vision and perspectiveLeave a comment

Why did God make you? Every Roman Catholic of a certain age, who grew up with the Baltimore Catechism, knows the unquestionable answer to that question: “to know, love and serve him in this world, and to be happy with him in the next.” Of course that is the answer, the one, true, only possible answer. Or is it? I wonder what our good friends, the Sisters of Mary Magdalene might have to say as they contemplate why God (god, the goddess, the gods) made us.

It’s been a while since we visited the cloister, so come with me, and let’s have a peek at what the sisters are up to . . . 

Since Hurricane Sandy even as the sisters continue to clean and repair the grounds, life seemed to be settling back into a more normal convent routine, at least for the moment. Each morning the sisters rise at 5AM to greet the sun; at 6 they gather for prayers and liturgies; at 8 they break their fast in a silent communal meal together, followed by manual work, liturgical prayers, and dinner at noon. The afternoons are a combination of work, spiritual reading and prayer; followed by a light supper at 6PM. Evenings include quiet time, recreation, prayer, discussion and reflection on their readings, and meetings with spiritual mentors. Most of the good sisters find their way to sleep by about 10 PM. They are reclaiming stability and comfort in the routine and strength in the discipline. And life indeed goes on.

As we look in on the Sisters their Spiritual readings focus on creation stories across traditions. Beginning with the Hebrew scriptures that are the foundation of their own tradition, and they read the second chapter of Genesis: Adam was created by his Maker. The story notes that Adam was charged with keeping a garden. That was his job, in service to his maker. But, Adam soon became lonely. His Creator wanted Adam to be happy, and so he resumed creation and brought into being every bird of the air and every beast of the field, and brought them to Adam to see and to name.  Yet, none of these creatures gave Adam delight. The Creator then caused a deep sleep to come upon Adam. While Adam slept, the Creator took a rib from Adam’s side and created woman. When Adam beheld her, he said, “This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh.” And he felt happiness and joy in the relatedness of human community. And things unfolded from there.

Because our sisters are committed to honoring the memory and spirit of Mary Magdalene their spiritual mother, they looked further to the creation story from the Upanishads of India. There they read that before the beginning of time, when the universe was nothing but the Self, the Self looked around, saw that there was nothing but the Self, and shouted, “It is I!” and the concept “I” arose. And when the Self became aware if itself as an ‘I’, ego arose, and it was afraid. But it reasoned, thinking, since there is no one here but myself, what is there to fear? And fear left.

But, the self still lacked delight, and wished for another. So, it swelled and split in two, becoming male and female. The male embraced the female, and from that embrace, the human race arose. But the female thought, how can he unite with me, who am of his own substance? And so she hid.  She became a cow, he became a bull and united with her, and from that union cattle arose. She then became a mare and he a stallion . . .  and so one, down to the ants.

Then the self realized, “I am creation; for I have poured forth all of this. And there arose the concept of ‘creation.’

Some of the sisters found this version of the creation story a bit disturbing, but they continued in their reading and reflection.

Next they looked a bit closer to home, and sought the wisdom of the Greeks, reading from Plato’s Symposium. There they examined a creation story that begins with the human race already in existence, but with three distinct human races: one entirely male, whose residence was the sun; one entirely female, who dwelt on the earth; and the third, half male and half female conjoined together, who dwelt on the moon. These beings were as large as two humans of today. They each had four hands and four feet, sides and backs forming a circle, one head with two faces.  The gods of those peoples and times became afraid of the strength of these humans, and so Zeus and Apollo cut them in two, “like apples halved for pickling.” But, those divided parts, each desiring the other, came together and embraced, and would have perished of hunger had the gods not set them far apart. 

The Greeks teach us that the lesson of this story is that human nature was originally one and we were a whole, and the desire and pursuit of the whole is called love – according to its three kinds. Oh, my! As you can imagine, this third version really caused some distress for some of the sisters with its implicit affirmation of same sex love as a normal aspect of human being. And, yet, even in their distress they are hardy, stalwart souls. And so they persisted in their reflections.

Mother Magdalene turned to Sister Visentia, and asked her for her thoughts. Visentia smiled a bit, and said, “Well, Mother, you know, I’ve also been reading Joseph Campbell recently. And, if I remember correctly, it seems that in our traditional reading from Hebrew Scriptures, Adam, as the being whose rib was used to create woman, is the created servant, and the goal then is to become engaged in a relationship with the other, even while serving the creator. While in the version from India, it is the creator who is split into parts. And so each creature should experience and realize in life their very identity with that Being, we are each made from, made of the creator – thou art that! In the Greek version, we are left to search for our other half, while at the same time being careful not to offend the gods. These are three very different ways to think about the meaning and purpose of our lives! What very different versions of truth!”

Then, Sister Bryda chimed in, “and what different paths to justice and respect for dignity! Are we servants of a divine creator? Are we in search of relationship and our better half? Or are we each a chip off the old block, the Creator’s very self?”

At that Mother Magdalene smiled and observed, “Well, Sister Bryda, you may not realize the depth of your own wisdom. The answer is actually all three. One dimension of social space is a path of awe, the path that leads to transcendence and divinity – where we explore the vastness of all that is as you put it, a chip off the old block. That is the most neglected dimension of social space in the world at large. In our world here in the cloister, it is the most revered dimension. Another dimension is relatedness and closeness, finding authentic connections with others, and yes, in the secular world, searching for you better half. That is a dimension we have chosen to redefine somewhat within this cloister as we set aside the search for a particular half in the search for a stronger common community. And indeed there is a third dimension to social space, the dimension of hierarchy, of servant and master, of above and below, and of justice and fairness, perhaps the dimension that is most contentious in the world around us. Each dimension is necessary for a full, whole and healthy well being. The challenge is keeping them all in balance.”

Through all of this Sister Septimus looked perplexed, then thoughtful. After a few moments of silence, she spoke, “So, three dimensions of social space: awe/divinity, closeness/relatedness and hierarchy/justice. So, God made us to know him or her or them in awe, to serve him, her or them; or perhaps to work for fairness and to build a world where dignity is indeed respected.”

“Or all of the above.” Observed Mother Magdalene as the left the refectory for the chapel and evensong.

Please call me by my true names by Thich Nhat Hanh with comments from Ivan M. Granger

On By MaryIn alchemy, compassion, social justice, stories for social change, vision and perspective2 Comments

I have been in love with this poem by Thich Nhat Hanh for years. Every time I read it I am touched more deeply by the implications of the poem, by its call for compassion and justice. By its demonstration of the inherent unity of all that is, of all of us. And then recently I cam across a discussion of the poem by Ivan Granger. Beautifully said, Ivan (who I don’t know — yet). so, I thought I would share both with you all … think deeply, please.  … Mary

Please Call Me by My True Names

by Thich Nhat Hanh (1929 – )

 
Don’t say that I will depart tomorrow —
even today I am still arriving.

Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a Spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
to fear and to hope.

The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death
of all that is alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing
on the surface of the river.
And I am the bird
that swoops down to swallow the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily
in the clear water of a pond.
And I am the grass-snake
that silently feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks.
And I am the arms merchant,
selling deadly weapons to Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl,
refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean
after being raped by a sea pirate.
And I am the pirate,
my heart not yet capable
of seeing and loving.

I am a member of the politburo,
with plenty of power in my hands.
And I am the man who has to pay
his “debt of blood” to my people
dying slowly in a forced-labor camp.

My joy is like Spring, so warm
it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth.
My pain is like a river of tears,
so vast it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and my laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart
can be left open,
the door of compassion.

1989

— from Call Me by My True Names: The Collected Poems of Thich Nhat Hanh, by Thich Nhat Hanh

 
Commentary by Ivan M. Granger

This is a lovely, unflinching meditation on how all of being and all of human experience weaves together into a single tapestry of the whole. It can even draw comparisons with Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself,” where everything, terrible and beautiful, is one, is witnessed, and is found within oneself. 

Don’t say that I will depart tomorrow — 
even today I am still arriving.

Most of us have learned to anticipate what will happen next, and we end up mentally dwelling in our fantasies and fears about the future. But the future is merely an idea; it never has reality. The present moment is all that is ever real. And that is where we must dwell if we want to truly be alive and know what is real.

The present is a state of “still arriving.” Because the present moment is not a fixed space in time, you can’t say that anything encountered in the present is fixed and settled either. The present is a gossamer thin and moving point of light where all things are just barely stepping into the visibility of being… as the moment keeps moving. Everything, everyone, in every second is always just arriving. The present is a continuous becoming. 

Look deeply: every second I am arriving 
to be a bud on a Spring branch, 
to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings, 
learning to sing in my new nest…

Another fascinating thing is discovered when we truly, deeply perceive the present moment: Not only are we and all things “still arriving,” but the illusion of boundaries and separate being falls away. The notion of identity expands and recognizes itself just as naturally in all things witnessed. We find we are not just the person watching the bud on the Spring branch, but in our arriving we are equally the Spring bud, the young bird, the caterpillar in the flower, the jewel waiting in the stone. This is not some poetic game of words; it is what we actually perceive.

The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death 
of all that is alive.

When we finally see this truth then, for the first time, we can truly witness the world as it is. And that is what this poem is most about: witnessing. Thich Nhat Hanh invites to courageously witness the panorama of life, wonders and horrors alike. Through this form of true witnessing, we are not spectators watching others from a distance; no, it all unfolds upon us and in us. We are witnessing ourselves in many forms. We recognize that anything that happens anywhere in the world, is truly happening to ourselves and no other. And everything done, is done by ourselves and no other.

Please call me by my true names, 
so I can wake up, 
and so the door of my heart 
can be left open, 
the door of compassion.

This is why compassion is not altruistic and service is no effort. When we finally see things as they are, it is all oneself. When we offer our heart, when we offer our hand, we are simply helping ourselves. Who among us, when he touches a hot iron, doesn’t immediately pull back and then soothe the burn under cool water? That’s not altruism, it is the natural response to pain in one’s body. When we see clearly, we see we are all of one body, and the joys and pains of any other is yours as well. 

Compassion and an open heart are the natural result of being awake to this truth, and no effort at all.

Tonto and the Lone Ranger, Where we see wisdom

On By MaryIn anti-racism, growth into humanity, laughter, vision and perspective1 Comment

Once upon a time, when I was but a child, there was a most wonderful television show called the Lone Ranger. The show featured a rather hapless cowboy, who was the star of the show, and his inventive, ingenious side kick, a Native American Indian called Tonto. In my youth I had no conception of the inequity embodied in this relationship. I also had no clue that ‘Tonto’ translates from Spanish as ‘stupid’ or ‘silly’. Ugh. Nice way to insult your friend. And yes, this is just a fine example of how some of my earliest pleasure and role modeling for friendship was grounded in racism. We have a very long way to go to build a world where all relationships are grounded in respect for human dignity. (And even further to go so that ALL relationships – relationships between and among humans and with other sentient and with non-sentient beings are grounded in respect.)

So, when I came across this little story, I have to confess that it brought a smile to my face, a twinkle to my eye, and hope to my heart.  I hope you enjoy it too.

The Lone Ranger and Tonto went camping in the desert. After they got their tent all set up, both men fell sound asleep. Some hours later, Tonto woke the ranger and said,
“Kemo sabi, look towards sky, what you see?”

The ranger replied, “I see millions of stars.”

“What does that tell you?” asked Tonto.

The ranger pondered for a minute then said, “Astronomically speaking, it tells me there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, it tells me that Saturn is in Leo. Time wise, it appears to be approximately a quarter past three in the morning. Theologically, Mother Nature is all-powerful and we are small and insignificant. Meteorologically, it seems we will have a beautiful day tomorrow.

“What’s’ it tell you, Tonto?”

Tonto says,“Kemo Sabi, you dumber than buffalo shit. It means somebody stole the tent.” 

Wisdom is not always were you expect to find it. Yes, I very much agree with Thich Nhat Hanh that we should look deeply into the roots of events and experiences to fully understand the experience and the people involved. But, sometimes it is important to see what is (or is not) right in front of our faces. And always it is important to not take ourselves too seriously!

 

All the faces are mirrors

On By MaryIn growth into humanity, happiness, vision and perspective4 Comments

Long ago in a small, far away village in New Zealand, there was place known as the House of 1000 Mirrors. One day a small, happy little girl learned of this place and decided to visit. When she arrived, she skipped happily up the stairs to the doorway of the house. She looked through the doorway with hope in her heart and gleeful anticipation in her eyes. To her great surprise, she found herself staring at 1000 other happy little girls with their eyes glowing as brightly as hers. She smiled a great smile, and was answered with 1000 great smiles just as warm and friendly. As she left the House, she thought to herself, “This is a most wonderful place. I think that I will come back and visit it very often.” And she did, and each time she was greeted with smiles, and her life was richer and happier for it.

In this same village, another little girl, who was not quite as happy as the first one, decided to visit the house. She slowly climbed the stairs and hung her head low as she looked into the door. When she saw the 1000 sad and unfriendly looking girls staring back at her, she grimaced and snarled at them and was horrified to see 1000 little girls grimacing and snarling back at her. As she left, she thought to herself, “That is a horrible place, and I will never go back there again.” And she did not ever return to that place, but she continued to meet other people who were sad and grimacing where ever she went.

For Shakespeare all the world was a stage. Indeed, and also, all the faces in the world are mirrors.

Learning swordsmanship & Action through Nonaction (wu-wei)

On By MaryIn growth into humanity, spiritual growth, vision and perspective6 Comments

From Joseph Campbell’s ‘Myths to Live By’

Once upon a time, in another time and place, there was a master swordsman who established a school so that he could share his knowledge with the boys of the village. Boys who wanted to learn swordsmanship would come and live in the school with the master. When they first came, he would set them to doing chores – washing the dishes, doing the laundry, sweeping out the rooms, etc. – and then he would ignore them for a while. After a few days he would come up from somewhere and smack one or the other of them with a stick.  The smacking would go on for a while, and then the boys would begin to be prepared for the whack; and then the master would alter his tactic, and he would come upon the boys from another side, another angle. Finally, one by one the boys would each learn that he must be prepared not from any particular direction, but rather from a constant and consistent state of centeredness – an undirected alertness ever ready for immediate response. In Japan, this is known as wu-wei, doing without doing, or action without action.

The master carefully monitored the boys progress, and one day he told his students that he would bow before anyone who, in any way whatsoever, could catch him by surprise.  Days passed and the master was never caught. He was ever aware and ever vigilant.  He was never off his guard, not even for a moment.

Life in the school went on, and all was well. Mostly that is. As you might imagine nothing is ever perfect. In fact, in addition to the boys in the village, there was one young girl who also wanted to learn how to become a swordswoman.  The master flatly refused, telling her that work with swords was for men only.  The girl persisted and finally asked the master if she could come and work in the school. Finally he relented and allowed her to work in the kitchen. But she was forbidden to touch the swords, and was restricted from even observing the classes in sword-techniques. She diligently attended to all of her work in the kitchen, and very, very discretely she would hide and watch the boys as they learned to hold and wield their swords. The master knew that she broke his second rule, but he quietly kept watch and allowed her to observe from a distance.

One day the master returned to his hut from a long day of teaching and working in the garden. He asked for a bowl of water to wash off his feet. The young girl brought it from the kitchen. The master felt the water was a bit cold, and so he asked her to warm it. The girl returned with a bowl of hot water, and the master, without thinking, put his feet in, quickly pulled them out, and when down on his knees in a very deep bow before the girl. He bowed deeply before the one student he had rejected. As he rose from the bow, he welcomed the girl to full status as a student among all the other students.

Joseph Campbell tells us that the mistake of inadvertence, not being alert, not quite awake is the mistake of missing the moment of life. The whole of the art of the nonaction that is action (wu-wei) is unremitting alertness. In practicing wu-wei, in living wu-wei one is fully conscious all the time, and since life is an expression of consciousness, life is then lived fully. There is a Zen saying that is the evening message at many Zen sangha’s (communities):

Life and death are grave matters.
All things pass quickly away
Each of us must be completely alert:
Never neglectful, never indulgent.

May we honor this message well, with deep thought and compassionate wu-wei.

Harry, The Lord Gives and the Lord Takes Away and The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow

On By MaryIn compassion, laughter, social justice, vision and perspective2 Comments

For the most part, I focus on posting stories in this blog that point to paths towards respect for all human beings and the increase of justice in the world.  As I type the words “point to paths” I am reminded of the Buddhist injunction to not mistake the teacher’s finger for the moon. Of course we need to pay attention to the pointing, but we need to keep our focus on the goal. Our eyes should be on the moon. (Which is not to say that we should be mooning over justice and human rights, but then, this may be that kind of free associating blog? So stay awake. Watch out for slippery slopes!)

 So, here is a story for you. A bit of an old chestnut (well worn story) I think.

 Once upon a time in middle America there was a god fearing farmer named Harry. Harry was a devout member of his church, a well respected and generous member of his community, married with a son and daughter. He and his wife, Matilda, were deeply in love. They worked together tending the farm that had been in Harry’s family for untold generations. From the farming, some crafts they sold, they managed a comfortable living. They worked hard, but by and large life was sweet.

 And then Harry’s wife was taken ill. They used up all of their medical benefits, and still the doctors could not diagnose her illness. She just kept wasting away. Harry prayed. All the members of the church and community prayed. But Matilda’s illness persisted. Harry consulted with the local pharmacist to see if Kohlberg might be right, but the pharmacist had no remedy to suggest, not for any price. And all too soon, Matilda passed gently into the light at the end of the dark night.  Harry was bereft. And then his faith carried him, he dried his eyes, looked up to the moon, and with a heavy heart said to his children, “the good lord gives and the good lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the lord.” And life on the farm went on.

 And as time went on, Harry Junior was walking down the road to school when a drunk driver struck the boy and killed him. Harry Junior’s death was instantaneous. Harry Senior was inconsolable for a time. And then, he heaved a sigh, looked up to the moon, and said to his daughter, “the good lord gives and the good lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the lord.” And life on the farm went on.

 And life went on for a while. And then the draught came. And Harry had to take out a mortgage on the farm. And he and his daughter worked even harder to make ends meet. And then the daughter got wanderlust, enlisted in the army, was sent to Afghanistan and was killed when her truck drove over an IED.  Harry was devastated. He wept – an act that was unheard of for a middle American farmer, but he wept. And then, sighing deeply, he looked up to the moon, and said to no one in particular, “the good lord gives and the good lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the lord.” And his life on the farm went on.

 And then a draught came, Harry had to take out a mortgage on the farm to pay the bills. His heart was breaking. One day he was out in the middle of the fields working the land that he loved. The land that he had grown up with. The land that had nurtured him body and soul. The land that was now so dry he could barely coax subsistence from it.  And the winds began to pick up. Soon the winds were howling.  As Harry looked up from the field where he was working, he saw a tornado the size of a New York skyscraper thundering right towards him. Before Harry could think to react, the tornado was on him. It lifted Harry and the tractor like they were bits of wheat, tossed them about like a child playing with her first baseball, and then dropped them like a hot potato – with the tractor landing squarely on top of Harry squishing him like a pancake. Harry died, walked toward the light, and found himself at the Pearly Gates where indeed he met his maker. Harry looked up, took a deep breath, and said, “Dear god, why? Didn’t I honor you? Didn’t I follow all your commandments? Didn’t I …”

 And at that point, god grimaced, and said, “Harry, I don’t know, there’s just something about you that pissed me off.”

 Now, that was a too long story. And what does it have to do with respect for human dignity, what does it have to do with human rights and social justice? Not much – except that sometimes we just can’t know. Sometimes you do all the right things and everything goes wrong. Sometimes there is no knowing why. But all the time, you just have to dust yourself off and keep going. Because even as we gaze at the moon, even at the time of the waning moon, we can always know that the sun will come out tomorrow!

 Be of stout heart and good cheer … the sun will come out tomorrow. And then together we can sing our songs of hope and peace.

I am god; You are god; All is godness – or Material Reality, Transcendence and the difficulty of maintaining a both/and awareness

On By MaryIn growth into humanity, laughter, transcendence, vision and perspective2 Comments

I recently finished re-reading Robert Heinlein’s “Stranger in a Strange Land.” I first read the book when I was in college, (it was quite the cult favorite back in the 60’s and 70’s). The memory that most resonated for me from when I first read the book was the word “grok” which means to drink deeply in the sense of deeply understanding or loving and becoming one with whoever or whatever is groked. As I read the book this time around the phrase that resonated equally for me was “thou art god” as an expression of the responsibility of each of us for the ongoing creation of our world, our universe, and also our oneness with all that is. Ah, I thought, if only we all really got that, we really could celebrate the unity and diversity – the diversity and the unity of all that is! And then, we really could deeply respect the dignity of all that is, and live lives of compassion and justice. If only!

And then I came across a story in Joseph Campbell’s “myths to live by” that reminded me of the difficulty of keeping all of this in our awareness. Here is my ever so slightly tweaked version of the story:

Mara, a young spiritual aspirant whose teacher had just brought home to her the realization of herself as identical in essence with the power that supports the universe and which in theological thinking we personify as “god.” In english, Mara just ‘got’ on every level the meaning of “thou art god.” Mara, profoundly moved, basked in the euphoria of being one with the Lord and Being of the Universe, virtually levitated away in a state of profound absorption. Still caught up in the ecstasy of the realization, she walked though the village and came upon a great elephant bearing a load on its back and with the driver, riding – as they do – high on its neck, above its head. And our young candidate for sainthood, meditating on the proposition “I am god; all things are god,” noticed that mighty elephant coming toward her, she added the obvious corollary, “The elephant also is God.” The animal, with its bells jingling to the majestic rhythm of its stately approach, was steadily coming on, and the driver sitting on the elephant’s head began shouting, “Clear the way! Clear the way, you idiot! Clear the way!” The young saint to be, in her rapture, was thinking still, “I am God; that elephant is god.” And, hearing the shouts of the driver, she added, “Should god be afraid of god? Should god get out of the way of god?” The elephant and driver came steadily on, with the driver at its head still shouting, and Mara, in undistracted meditation, held both to her place on the road and to her transcendental insight until the moment of truth arrived and the elephant, simply wrapping its great trunk around our somewhat lunatic Mara, tossed her aside, off the road.

Physically shocked, spiritually stunned, Mara landed all in a heap, not greatly bruised but altogether undone; and rising, not even adjusting her clothes, she returned, disordered, to her guru, to require an explanation. “You told me,” she said, when she had explained herself, “you told me that I was god.” “Yes, said the guru, “all things are god.” “That elephant, then was god?” “So it was. That elephant was god.” “So why did that elephant not recognize me as god as well?” Mara retorted. And the guru smiled and asked, “Why did you not listen to the voice of god, shouting from the elephant’s head, to get out of the way?”

Joseph Campbell credits this Indian fable to Ramakrishna. Both use the story to illustrate the difficulty of holding simultaneously in the mind the two planes of consciousness, the plane of material reality and the plane of the transcendent. So, there is a project to work on – fully groking the material world and the transcendent world even while we work to bring dignity, compassion and justice more fully into it all!

Poetry, Power and Suheir Hammad’s talisman

On By MaryIn alchemy, poetry, vision and perspectiveLeave a comment

There is a child’s nursery rhyme that is often quoted: sticks and stones will break my bones, but names will never hurt me.  But, there is another version of that rhyme that says: sticks and stones will break my bones, but names will kill my soul.  … naming is powerful. Words are powerful. Poetry is powerful.

Thomas Merton wrote, “art [poetry] enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.” When I read poetry, when I hear it, when I feel its resonance in my heart, in the depth of my being it touches, it changes, it evokes the best in me. Poetry embodies the alchemy of transmogrification to ways of being that celebrate human dignity, that create social structures that embody justice. 

Suheir Hammad writes poems of war, peace, women, power – she claims human dignity and a just world. Her writing is a talisman for me. She wrote a poem that titled talisman … feel its power …

talisman
it is written
the act of writing is
holy words are
sacred and your breath
brings out the
god in them
i write these words
quickly repeat them
softly to myself
this talisman for you
fold this prayer
around your neck fortify
your back with these
whispers
may you walk ever
loved and in love
know the sun
for warmth the moon
for direction
may these words always
remind you your breath
is sacred words
bring out the god
in you

Give a listen to her TED Talk. (If you have not explored the TED web page, really go surf over there. TED: Technology, Entertainment, Design – ideas worth spreading. And it really is a great collection of ideas worth exploring). So, here is the link to Suheir Hammad reading a couple of her poems http://www.ted.com/talks/suheir_hammad_poems_of_war_peace_women_power.html

may you walk ever loved and in love!

may we all know days of warmth

and peace

and love

Keeping the R in Celebrate

On By MaryIn Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, happiness, music of life, vision and perspective1 Comment

When we last looked in on the good Sisters of Mary Magdalene they had just returned to their Cloister after the tempestuous winds of Storm Sandy.

Sandy left the grounds of the cloister were badly battered. Trees had been uprooted and tossed about wildly and wantonly. Tree limbs crashed through windows, and other windows were blow out. The wind and the rain wreaked havoc in the rooms where the windows were broken through.  Outer building were lifted off their foundations and tossed about like so much jetsam and flotsam. The cloisters buildings and grounds were a sad sight to sore eyes for even the most awakened of hearts.

And the good Sisters returned to this, took up their cloths, tools and prayers and began the work of cleaning and restoring their home the cloister to its pristine ascetic aesthetic.  Mother Magdalene organized the Sisters into work teams with rotating captains for each team, following the best in feminist team building principles.

Sister Bryda continued to walk the property looking for artifacts that might have been blown about by the winds, up righting statuary where she could, marking project that needed more heft, flagging areas that were safety hazards.

Sister Visentia moved through the buildings and gathered the  damaged and broken setting it to be repaired by the sisters during the coming cold months.

Sister Septimus collected the damaged documents from the archives, immediately setting to clean and repair them before the dirt and mud could mar them beyond restoration.  Sister Septimus took to her task with a care, persistence and gentleness that even she had never known in herself. She found a deep and abiding sense of peace as she caressed and cleans the ancient documents that found their home in the cloisters library. Ah, the library and its once beautiful stained glass windows.  The windows were now gone, and all that was stained in the library were the books and the papers. And Sister Septimus worked on, collecting, sorting and cleaning.

For days and weeks Sister Septimus worked methodically and meticulously at cleaning and restoring book after book, document after document. And in the evenings during refectory, she asked Mother Magdalene for permission to read “People of the Book” by Geraldine Brooks. Mother Magdalene thought this an odd choice, but Sister Septimus rarely sought to read lay literature. So, Mother Magdalene granted her request, but inquired gently of Sister Septimus about her interest in the book. The right side of Sister Septimus mouth turned ever so slightly in the direction of a smile, and Septimus allowed as how she feels an empathy with Hannah Heath, the book conservator who is the central character in the book. “reading about her dogged determination there, somehow just  helps me to keep going here. I know its fiction, but it just nurtures my heart and my work” said Sister Septimus. And Mother Magdalene smiled and nodded, “indeed” was all she said in return.

And the work continued. One day weeks into the repair and restoration, Mother Magdalene heard Sister Septimus weeping. She went to her at once, and found her holding the original charter of the cloister, written in the hand of their founding collective, signed by the first Mother Magdalene, and subsequently copied in the hand of each of the following Mothers. Sister Septimus silently pointed to the line in the rules of community life, the line that called on the sisters to lead their lives as ‘celibate’ women.  “Oh, mother, what have we done to each other!” she wept.

Mother Magdalene, looked at Sister Septimus with confusion and then began to weep herself as she read the original document herself – for the first time. It was the practice of each new Mother Magdalene to read and recopy the document from the hand of her predecessor; the prior documents were archived and stored for perpetual safe keeping. As Sister Septimus and Mother Magdalene stood weeping and holding the original charter document both of them saw that one of the successor Mother Magdalene’s had miswritten — she left out the ‘r’ and wrote celibate; but the original rule of community life did not challenge the sisters to live their lives as ‘celibate’ women, rather it called on them to CELEBRATE.

Mother Magdalene and Sister Septimus looked each other deeply in the eye, and with their full open hearts they determined and pledged that from this day forward as it was in the beginning, the Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene would be women who celebrate.

And what does all of this have to do with justice and respect for the dignity of all beings? Only that we are called to openly accept all – to accept everyone (including our selves) – fully into our hearts just as they are, just as we are. It is not the distance of celibacy that marks the path to holiness. It is the open hearted loving embrace of celebration that leads to wholeness, and through celebration of the wholeness of each of us, of all of us, we will walk the path to respect for our dignity and to lives of fairness and justice. So (along with Three Dog Night — the band named for those nights SO cold you needed three dogs in bed with you to keep warm 😉 along with Three Dog Night let your heart and soul sing) … celebrate, celebrate! Dance to the music — of love and life!

Pork, Sauerkraut and Why we cut the ham in half

On By MaryIn alchemy, change, vision and perspectiveLeave a comment

Holidays and celebrations all seem, sooner or later, to center around and come back to food. At least they certainly did in my Polish Catholic family of origin. One of the MAJOR food traditions (and there were many), was that you MUST always eat pork and sauerkraut on New Year’s day – and you must NEVER eat chicken on New Year’s day.

As I was growing up, I thought this was a tradition unique (read idiosyncratic – which is polite for weird) to my own family. Then I found out that it is a widely shared tradition among Polish peoples, and is also common among many Eastern European peoples as well as a Pennsylvania Dutch tradition.

My mom told me that you should eat pork because pigs root forward, and so if you eat pork you will move forward throughout the year, and you will make good progress. But, if you eat chicken, like chickens you will spend the year scratching out subsistence.

As I did some further research on the immensely interesting and important topic (read that as doing a quick google search), I learned that the green cabbage from which sauerkraut is created and the bountiful fat of pigs are taken to symbolize riches and prosperity for the coming year. The pig of course also represents progress for the coming year as a forward thinking and forward moving animal because it roots forward with its snout and all four of its hooves point forward. Also, many people from Slavic countries believe that eating the long threads of sauerkraut will nurture the threads of a long life – and now, modern science joins that belief with research about the probiotic properties of cabbage and of fermented cabbage.

Ah, food. And, all this writing about food reminds me of the addition practice in my family of buying a very large ham for any and every holiday, and then asking the butcher to cut the ham in half before you brought is home. For my father – and through him for my mother, the purchase of the very largest ham available and the cutting it in half by the butcher were as sacrosanct as eating pork and sauerkraut on New Year’s day. So, I had the story for the New Year’s practice, and even as I smiled, I could get my head around it. But why such a large ham? Smaller animals produced more tender meat – or so I thought. And why must it be cut in half? What special blessing did that act by the butcher impart? I just couldn’t puzzle it out. So, I asked my mother. She shrugged and said, “because that’s the way your father likes it done, and I’m not going to get into an argument with him over this on the holiday. So, I just do it his way.”

But, why? I wanted to know. So, I asked my father. And he said, “because that is the way your grandmother did it. She was a wonderful cook. When you find something that works, don’t rock the boat.”

Now, I knew that “don’t rock the boat” was one of my father’s favorite phrases when he did not have an answer and was not about to be dissuaded from his preferred way of thinking and doing things. So, I took a deep breath, put my coat on, and when over the river and through the woods to grandma’s house, and I asked her. Grandma started to laugh when I asked her. She said, “Sweetheart, I had eleven children and a husband to feed. I always bought the biggest of everything that I could afford. I had to if I wanted to feed them all. But, I had a small oven, and I did not have a very big knife, so I had to have the butcher cut it into a size that would fit in the oven. If I didn’t make a big deal over it, those boys of mine would come home with the ham in one piece and then I would have to send them back to the butcher and I would be here waiting while they took their time coming and going. It is about having enough and having it in a manageable size.”

Well, when I heard the reason behind the rule it all made sense. I then I started to laugh along with my grandmother, because there were only 5 of us in the house of my family of origin. A nice small ham would have been plenty.

And, I guess the moral of the story is that rules make sense when they make sense. And, then when they don’t it is time to let go.

Question everything! Keep asking until you understand. When the rule doesn’t fit, when it doesn’t apply, let it go and forge your own path and tradition. Here’s to a new year of understanding past practices and creating new ones of freedom fairness and joy!!