The Vanishing Lake and Chasing Wild Geese

On June 25, 2012June 26, 2012 By MaryIn laughterLeave a comment

Once upon a time in a place far from here and close to my heart, right in the heart of New Jersey, there was a beautiful lake. It was in the middle of a lush field of wild flowers, just on the edge of a glade of willow trees at the base of a gently sloping mountain. In the spring that lake was one of the most beautiful sights you could imagine with all of the flowers in bloom. And in the fall when the leaves were turning, it could take your breath away. We use to love to swim there. And fish! Some of the best eatin’ fish ever were caught right there in that lake.

Well, one November a flock of wild geese came and landed on the lake. It was the biggest flock of geese I’ve ever seen. There were so many of them, that when they landed, you could hardly see the lake for all of the geese. Just as those geese settled down on the lake and started to fish and swim around the temperature dropped like a marble off a sky scraper. It just plummeted, and the lake froze into a solid block of ice with all the geese still in the water. Those geese were so scared; they all just started to flap their wings like crazy. And all at once they all took off – and took the lake that was frozen around them with them.

A good friend of mine saw the whole think happen. She jumped on her motor cycle and followed those geese for miles and miles and miles. Eventually they did land, and she tells me that lake is somewhere in the Poconos in Pennsylvania. Personally, I think the whole thing is just a wild goose chase! But, sometimes you just got to chase a wild goose or two, becasue you never know what you might discover. At least there will be a smile or two, some belly laughs if you are lucky and maybe even a good story!

Can you imagine working for change without laughter? Some days I think laughter is the philosophers stone that activates the alchemy of change. Some days I think laughter is the holy grail of work for social justice. Laughter IS the best medicine.

The heart and spirit of this story are borrowed from the book Fried Green Tomatoes by Fannie Flagg. If you haven’t read the book or seen the movie, given either one a try. You will laugh a lot and maybe cry a bit – but you’ll laugh a lot more.

my cup runneth over

On June 18, 2012June 12, 2012 By MaryIn growth into humanity1 Comment

What you see is not always what you see. What you seek is not always what you find. A few years ago I was part of an editorial board for a feminist journal. Twice a year we would seek out a place to meet to do work on the journal, and to talk and plan. For the most part we would hold our meetings at the home university of one of the members, and that person would find a reasonable hotel near the school where we all could stay. So, it came time for Esther to volunteer her school which was in a major east coast city, a kind of pricy east coast city. But, Esther was undaunted! She knew of a bed and breakfast right across the street from the building where we could meet at her school. It would be perfect!

Of course we were immediately all on board with this, and the idea became a plan. Time when by, and it was coming on to be time for the meeting, so we all made our reservations at the bed and breakfast. And indeed the price for two nights and two breakfasts was remarkably inexpensive – it was downright cheap! All the better for low budget feminist academics. The weekend of the meeting arrived, and I arrived at the address of the accommodations. As I went through the door of the bed and breakfast I was taken with the rather prominent displays of Christian iconography – particularly since the bed and breakfast had been identified by Esther who is a very observant orthodox Jewish woman. But, then, I’m a feminist who celebrates diversity, so I was not going to quibble about this. Then at the registration desk – which was more like a telephone table in a small hallway, I was greeted by a young woman in a nun’s habit. She warmly greeted me “God bless you, welcome to our retreat home.” My jaw must have dropped several stories, because the good sister continued, “yes, we are the Poor Clare sisters of St. Francis of Assisi. We’ve been running this retreat house as an extension of our cloister for a few years now. It gives women an opportunity to retreat and reflect in silence.”

At that point I found my voice – barely, and managed to utter, “Retreat house? Silence? Cloister? Is this … and I sputtered out the address?”

The good sister was the paragon of graciousness, and confirmed that I was at the right place, and affirmed that indeed the bed and breakfast that I was – that we were – expecting was in fact a retreat house where silence was the rule, and prayerful reflection was the practice.

At that point I found myself fervently, silently repeating the mantra, “I’m a feminist who celebrates diversity; I’m a feminist who celebrates diversity.” As I took up my silent chant, I tried to explain who I was and what I was expecting, and that there were a dozen or so other women with similar expectations who would be arriving shortly. Then the good sister’s eyes lit up and she said, “Oh, you must be part of Esther’s group.” Ah, Esther’s group – that clarified it, and all was right with the world again. I was shown to my room, reminded of the rule of silence, and told that breakfast and prayers would begin at 7 AM. So, off to my room I went to settle in, to wait for the others and to see how the evening would unfold.

I unpacked, settled in, and then started to get restless. So, I ventured out to see if anyone else had arrived, and I found myself in a common room with another of the Poor Clare Sisters. This Sister noticed me, smiled and gestured for me to follow her. We moved into a kitchen area, and she introduced herself as the Mother in charge of the house, and welcomed me. She allowed as how hosting a non-retreat group was a new venture for the sisters, but there was only a small retreat scheduled for that weekend, so they could easily accommodate us, and they could use the additional revenue that our group would add. She asked if I was comfortable, if I needed anything or if I had any questions.

Well, indeed, I had some questions. I was raised Catholic. I knew about the Catholic Church. And there was a thing or two that I wanted to say to the Church. And, since she was standing there and she was clearly bearing the robes of the Church, well, I could just as well say them to her. So, within the rule of silence, I began. And, I continued. And, I went on. Abortion, birth control, clerical celibacy, dogmatism, exempting priests from responsibility for their acts against children, excluding gays and lesbians from marriage, financial wealth in the midst of urban poverty … I went on with questions about how an intelligent, thinking woman could be part of such an institution. (Maybe I might have been carrying some pent up frustration and hostility? Do you think?) Finally I paused for a breath in my monologue about the failures in catholicity of the Catholic Church and the need for protest and reform. And the Mother Sister smiled graciously, and asked if I would like a cup of tea.

Actually I did. Tea sounded very good about then. And so I dug deep and found my last good manner, and said, “yes, please.” The water was already simmering, so Mother Sister got a couple of cups, poured the water into a teapot, and after the tea had steeped for a few minutes, she began to pour. As she poured the tea into my cup, I quickly notice that the tea was reaching the rim. “Ahhh” I said. And Mother Sister continued to pour. “Wait, stop!” I said, “my cup is full, you can’t put anymore tea in it!”

Mother Sister just smiled, and said, “Exactly. If your cup is so full, how can anyone put anymore in it.”

And I knew right then and there that she was talking about a lot more than tea in a tea cup. Her few words said so much more than my monologue. Maybe there was something to this silence. And, I continued my silent chant, “I’m a feminist and I celebrate diversity.” And I started to think a bit more about what that meant, about what I meant by it, and about what it could mean.

Well, then others from the group started to arrive. Word about the rule of silence started to spread. And the giggles started to erupt. Women, silent? Feminist women, silent! Really? Well, we managed. We were silent in the bed and breakfast retreat house – well mostly – and always when we were reminded. The work that weekend did seem to progress a bit more smoothly than usual. It was a weekend that none of us has ever forgotten.

And, I find myself smiling quietly now every time I pour myself a cup of tea – and I find myself thinking about how full I really am, about how much I actually know. I’ve heard the beginning of wisdom is to know that you don’t know. And, while I do manage to keep the tea in the cup, more often than not, as I remember that weekend and my conversation with Mother Sister, I do feel like my cup runneth over.

The mayonnaise jar, rocks, pebbles, sand and 2 cups of tea

On June 11, 2012June 12, 2012 By MaryIn TimeLeave a comment

Once upon a time, in a far away classroom very near to our hearts, a professor stood before her social work class with some items on her desk in front of her. When the class began, wordlessly, she picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with large rocks. She then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. She shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the large rocks. She then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. She asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous ‘YES.’

The professor then produced two cups of tea from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

‘Now,’ said the professor, as the laughter subsided, ‘I want you to recognize that the jar represents your life. The large rocks are the important things: your family, your children, your health, your friends, and your deepest passions; things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, your education and maybe your car. The sand is everything else; the small stuff.

If you put the sand into the jar first, she continued, there is no room for the pebbles or the large rocks. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the good things that are important to you.

Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Pay attention to love. Play with your children. Take your partner out to dinner. Take care of your own health – physical, mental and spiritual. Walk in the woods and along the beach. Go kayaking on a quiet pond.

There will always be time to clean the house and cut the grass. Take care of the large rocks first; the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the tea represented.

The professor smiled. ‘I’m glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of cups of tea with a friend.

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar, the rocks and the 2 cups of tea.

What kind of cheese do you like?

On June 4, 2012June 15, 2012 By MaryIn loveLeave a comment

Most of the stories that I’ve posted here are from here and there, kind of public domain parables. But this one is pretty close to a true story…. close enough anyway.

A few years ago my partner and I were in Vermont at the Cabot Cheese store, where they have free samples of most of the flavors of cheese that they make. At that point I think we had been together somewhere around 25+ years – long enough to have a shared history and to buy into the delusion that we knew each other fairly well. I knew her favorite color is green, she knew my favorite color is blue. She knew I like rock and roll. I knew she does not. We knew those kinds of warm intimate details that make relationships sweet and enable then to flow along.

So, we were at the Cabot store sampling cheeses. Well, Cabot makes a LOT of flavors of cheese. So, we spent a good while sampling, and re-sampling cheeses. We both came to the conclusion that we had sampled so much cheese we HAD to buy something. But what? Of course it would never occur to us that we could by two different kinds of cheese, so next came the negotiation for what kind to buy. I knew what I liked the best, but I also knew that my partner would not like my favorite kind of cheese. So, as we talked about what to buy, I suggested something more in line with what I thought she liked. My partner thought about it for a few seconds, and suggested something else. Well back and forth we went trying to second guess each other, trying to make the other person happy and maybe get a little something of personal preference in there at the same time – all the while sampling more cheese of course.

Finally, she asked me what cheese I had sampled the most. I told her it was the extra, extra sharp cheese. I went on to talk about how I liked cheese so sharp you could you could cut something with it. Told her about how my grandmother had a butcher shop, since before I started school and my grandmother would sneak me slices of Vermont Black Wax cheese! (That is just the best, sharpest, finest tasting cheddar cheese in the universe as far as I am concerned – it comes with flavor, texture, nice saltiness and grandmotherly love!) And then my partner started to laugh quietly and ‘fessed up that extra sharp cheese was her favorite too. When we asked each other why that was not our first suggestion to each other, we both confessed that it was because we each thought the other would not like it. How did we mess that up! How did we not know this about each other? And after twenty five years we figured out that we had each been buying milder cheese because we both thought the other would not like the extra sharp! Talk about an O Henry moment!!

Of course it is not like we don’t talk about things. It is not like we don’t compare notes on anything and everything! Two feminists committed to consensus! A social worker and a counselor! We process everything! And yet, somehow we missed this kind of basic detail about food preferences. It just goes to show, that – well, there are no immaculate perceptions. Jane Austen had it right: “Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken (Emma).”

So, if we would work for a world where human dignity is respected, where fairness is honored, then even after 25 years, even after 38 years, we still need to keep talking and listening and hearing what is said, always with an open heart and an open mind. And, we need to be able to laugh when we inevitably discover the gaffs in our perceptions and understandings. Laugh, forgive, learn and move on!

(Oh, and we bought the Vermont Vintage Choice Cheddar, aged for 24 months, rich, full bodied, extra sharp!)

Mila Repa the Eagle Tower Caves of the Red Rock Jewel Valley

On May 28, 2012June 18, 2012 By MaryIn alchemy, love, mysticism, spiritual growthLeave a comment

Mila Repa was a great Tibetan Buddhist yogi. But, before he became a yogi, Mila Repa was a bit of a scoundrel. I mention that only to highlight that indeed change is possible – if you are committed to it and work at it. So this story is known as the tale of Mila Repa in the Eagle Tower Caves of the Red Rock Jewel Valley.

Mila Repa had been studying with his guru Marpa for a number of years, working to overcome the negative karma that he had accumulated during his years as a scoundrel. Our Mila Repa was not yet the most patient man, and so he was not satisfied with the pace of his progress. Eventually Mila Repa convinced Marpa that he should go off to the caves to pray and meditate in solitude, to get away from the distractions of day to day life. Marpa merely smiled a Mila Repa’s insistence, and finally gave his blessing to his student’s insistence.

One day, after Mila Repa had been living in the caves for some time he went out to collect firewood from the valley just below his cave. While he was out, a serious strom blew up. The wind was fierce, and as quickly a Mila Repa could pick up wood, the wind blew it out of his arms. The wind whipped his robes around and promised to tear off even that bit of protection. As his frustration grew, Mila Repa remember the Buddhist injunction to be free of ego and attachments. And he chastised himself, saying something like, “What is the point of my great devotions and solitary practice if I cannot manage to control my own ego! Let the wind take my robes away if it wants to.” And, just as he became aware of that thought, he fainted from the exertion and the struggle. When he came to, he observed that the storm had blown itself out, and he saw his tattered robe tangled in the branches of a nearby scrub tree.

Necessity being necessity, Mila Repa gathered up his robes, put them on, got himself back together, and gathered up the firewood that he had set out for. After a bit more work, he got himself and the wood back to his cave. When he arrived at the cave, he was surprised to find that his cave had been invaded and taken over by five of the ugliest, most ferocious looking demons that he had ever seen. They were huge, smelly, drooling with large fangs and claws. Mila Repa was shocked to see them in his peaceful dwelling space. But, he had his own history of villainy, so, undaunted he introduced himself to the demons and asked them to leave. The demons took this to be impudent effrontery, and became menacing. They destroyed his food stores, they ripped up his books of prayers and scriptures, and generally wrecked havoc in the cave. Then they surrounded Mila Repa, growling and taunting him maliciously. The demons made it clear that they were serious in their malevolence. Now, Mila Repa was alarmed and afraid. This was no mere halucination. He was in mortal danger.

Seeing their growing hostility, Mila Repa thought about his options. He thought about his years as a villan, and rejected violence as a possible response. He reaffirmed his committment to his Buddhist vows. He recited prayers of exorcism, with no effect. He preached Buddhism to them, he chanted Buddhist prayers and teachings to them, he told them of great acts of compassion from the history of Buddhism. All of this to no avail. Indeed, all of this had the opposite effect, only increasing their hostility toward him.

Despairation was descending on Mila Repa. He thought about all he knew. He thought about his years of study of Buddhism, he remembered that our experience and interpretation of reality is but a projection of our own mind. He remembered that all of our experiences are but teachers, intended to open our heart to greater awareness and love. … Mila Repa laughed out loud as he realized how romantic and lofty he always thought those teachings sounded. And now, his life seemed to hang on his ability to put those teachings into practice. Mila Repa remembered all that he had learned about love and now understood it with a new fearlessness. He welcomed the demons into his home and his life. He invited them to talk and eat and play together. He listened to them, even as he challenged them to listen to him. They engaged in a dialogue. He listened and learned — not to their taunts as they presented them, but to the meanings of those taunts within the context of awareness, love and enlightenment. And Mila Repa’s understanding and practice grew deeper and more refined. The demons did not leave – they never leave. But, Mila Repa’s relationship to them was transformed. They became his greatest teachers. Crisis is both danger and opportunity.

Baucis and Philemon from Ovid’s Metamorphoses

On May 22, 2012May 22, 2012 By MaryIn loveLeave a comment

This is not my story — not that any of the other stories here are really original to me, but with the others, I’ve tweaked and played with them a bit here and there. This story comes to you fairly directly from Ovid the original author. Ovid was a Roman poet at the beginning of the Current Era (CE). In his book, “The Metamorphoses” he tells the story of Baucis and Philemon. It is one of my favorite love stories. I think it speaks very powerfully to the alchemy of love.

The story begins with Jupiter and Mercury disguising themselves as mortals, and wandering the earth to see who would offer them food and rest. They were sent away from a thousand homes until finally they came to a humble dwelling, a small little cottage where they were invited in to shelter. This was the home of Baucis and Philemon who were both in their later years. The furnishings of the home were very basic and simple and the food was meager, but all that was had was offered to the guests without hesitation. As the meal continued, Baucis and Philemon noticed that the bowls of food and the container of wine kept filling themselves of their own accord. The two surmise that their guests were immortals, and they were filled with awe and fear, concerned with the humble nature of the food they had shared with their guests. Baucis and Philemon then tried to catch and kill their one goose, but the bird was too young and too fast for them and they could not trap it. The gods quickly told them not to kill the goose.

While all their neighbors had denied the gods hospitality, Baucis and Philemon willingly shared what they had. Because of this, the neighbors would be destroyed, but they would be spared the anger of the gods. Baucis and Philemon were told to climb to the top of the nearest mountain. They did so, and when they looked back their valley was filled with water, with only their home remaining above the water line. While they wept for their neighbors, their house changed into a temple to the gods. Then Jupiter spoke to them and offered to grant them whatever they would ask. The husband and wife stepped back, consulted with each other, and asked to be priests in the temple, and since they had lived their lives together there; and they asked to die together. And their request was granted.

When they were of an extreme old age, they were standing in front of the temple, talking of old times, and Baucis saw Philemon sprouting leaves, and Philemon noticed the same of Baucis, and as the bark formed over their faces, they each spoke to the other their last words, “Farewell, my dear one.” And to this day, Bithynian peasants point to two trees standing close, growing from one double trunk.

This story speaks of care and commitment; of lifelong love and love for strangers. Jacob Needleman (2005) notes that while most myths have their mystery in the middle, this one poses the mystery at the end: what kind of love can we search for and build in our journey of living together? What do we serve in each other with our love? The story of Baucis and Philemon evokes questions about the meaning, nature and evolution of love. What is love? What does love mean to you? What does it mean to be in love? What does it mean to love someone (or something)? What kinds of love are there? What does it feel like to be loved? What are the costs of love? What do you get from love? What do you give in love?

Needleman, J. (2005). The Wisdom of Love: Toward a Shared Inner Life. Standpoint, ID: Morning Light Press.

the rice farmer, the fire and the tsunami

On May 18, 2012 By MaryIn love1 Comment

This is a story about community and love.

In Japan, Diachi was a rice farmer whose fields extended across an expanse of hill tops. The neighbors often pitied Diachi and his family because of all of the additional difficulties they had to deal with as they struggled to farm the slopes of the hills. Each day however Diachi would work in their rice fields, and as they worked they would look out and see the ocean beyond the lands and they would pause and bask in the awe of its beauty and power.

One day as Diachi was working his rice fields he looked out and noticed the ocean seemed to be drawing back, getting ready to leap like a wild animal. He knew the leap would be a tsunami. Diachi also knew that his neighbors who were working in the low lying fields must very quickly get to the high grounds of his hill or they would be swept out to the ocean in the overwhelming surge of waves where they would surely drown. Without hesitating, Diachi and his wife set fire to their rice racks while the children desperately rang the temple bells. (In their community, everyone would respond to a fire bell because it is all too well known that no one can fight a fire alone – and a fire means starvation for a family.) Hearing the bell and seeing the smoke, Diachi’s neighbors rushed to help him and his family. As the villagers crested the hill and put out the fire, they turned back to see their own rice fields covered in walls of ocean waves. From the safety of the hills, they saw the torrents of the waters over the fields they had just left. The villagers recognized quickly saw that Diachi’s years of toil in difficult circumstances, his awe and reverence for the ocean, his sacrifice of his crops had all come together to save their lives.

The habits that we build in the small actions and tasks of our day to day lives all build together to set the foundation for the options and choices that will be available to each of us in larger moments of crisis. The theme of altruistic love that reaches out to help those in need is a common across cultures, traditions and religions.

Saving fish from drowning

On May 17, 2012 By MaryIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

There are (at least) two recurrent and worrisome themes that anyone working bring about social change, anyone engaged in the alchemy of justice should keep in the front of our hearts and minds. One is Terry Goodkind’s second rule from the Wizards Rules in his Sword of Truth series. The Wizard’s second rule says that the greatest harm can result from the best intentions. And the second theme is the assertion by Fritz Perls, the founder of Gestalt Psychology, which reminds us that 90% of what we see is projection. Amy Tan’s story of a man who dedicated his life to Saving Fish from Drowning is a great example of both of these themes.

Amy Tan tells the story of a pious man who daily explained to his followers that it is evil to take lives and noble to save them. And, so each day he pledged to save 100 lives. And each day he would drop his net into the lake – I think it was Lake Erie – and he would scoop out 100 fish. He would then place the fish on the bank where they would flop and twirl

“Don’t be scared” he would tell the fish, “I am saving you from drowning.” Soon enough the fish would grow calm and lie still. Yet sad to say, he was always too late. The fish always died.

And because it is evil to waste anything, he would take those dead fish to market and sell them for a good price at the market – it might have been the Fulton Fish Market in the Bronx.

With the money he received, he would buy more nets so he could save more fish.

He just wanted to help save lives.

He had the best of intentions. He saw the fish in need of saving. He say himself as their savior. We each need to view the process and practices of work for social change, for the alchemy of justice, through the lens of accurate empathy, compassion and respect for unique and particular vulnerabilities and dignity. The skills of listening and deep empathy are important tools to facilitate this process.

Fear, Generosity and spoons with long handles

On May 6, 2012June 18, 2012 By MaryIn growth into humanity, spiritual growth1 Comment

Once upon a time in a place both very near to my heart and very distant from here and now, there were two villages, Metus and Gratia.

In the village known as Metus, the people lived in fear. They have learned to distrust each other, and the communal belief was that each person had better take care of his or her self, because no one else could be trusted to so. The most common saying among the villagers was that help’s sir name was Godot, and there was no point in waiting for Godot!

One day the Queen mandated a communal feast. And, all of the villagers were summoned to sit around at a huge table full of food. The Queen’s men saw to it that the bowls on the table were always full and overflowing. The villagers of Metus cursed the Queen and her men, they knew the food on the table was a cruel joke meant to taunt them. As part of the feast day celebrations, each of the villagers had spoons with long handles attached to their arms and they couldn’t reach their own mouths with the spoons, because the handles were too long. When they tried to feed themselves the food fell uselessly to the table. Their bowls were overflowing but they were all starving to death at the feast. They saw the feast as cruel punishment by a cynical and uncaring Queen.

In the village of Gratia, the people grew up living lives that were steeped in gratitude, generosity, and love. Like their distant relative in Africa, they understood relationships in the spirit of Ubuntu, “I am because you are.” The villagers of Gratia shared a sense of deep interconnectedness and a commitment to love, nurture and to see to the well being of each of the members of the community

As with the villagers of Metus, one day the Queen called for a communal feast in the Village of Gratia. All of the villagers were invited to be seated at a huge table full of food. The Queens men saw to it that bowls of food on the table were always full and overflowing. The villagers of Gratia knew the food was a joyous gift of generosity from their beloved Queen and they thoroughly enjoyed the day of celebration. To highlight celebration of Ubuntu that wove throughout the day, everyone had spoons with long handles attached to their arms. While in fact the handles were so long that they could not feed themselves, no one in Gratia noticed. They were all laughing and joyously feeding one another.

When we share with each other there is always more than enough, yet when we are afraid of sharing there is never enough.

When we open our hearts and share with each other there is always more than enough love, power and food. Will we see the spoons as obstacles or connections? Any crisis can be rendered into danger or an opportunity.

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