Meeting reflections July 5, 2014

This morning I pried myself away from ESPN and the graceful, dignified and powerful Roger Federer and the Wimbledon finals to head to Meeting for Worship.  I don't say that proudly, mind you, but just to state the truth about how I did have to consider my options.  I was glad that I made the right choice.    The topic of the morning, from Bill Hamilton (new interim pastor at New Garden for the next year) on his first official First Day was this:  Wisdom of the Elders.  It was with powerful humility and respect that Bill delivered words about the 1000 or so "elders" in the cemetery across the Meetinghouse parking lot, of the folks who walk through the woods each Sunday to worship from Friends Homes, and about those in the Guilford College and New Garden community who not only farmed and fed their families but who also assisted with the Underground Railroad, stood for the rights of prisoners, and who fought for civil rights.  And more.  Much more.  

Bill Hamilton's words today ignited that ember in me that has waxed and waned over the years I've been employed at Guilford in the role of alumni staff.  The ember is about stewardship, and more.  It has had to do with a conviction that those who have gone before us, and those who are the more senior members of our Guilford College community, have the ability to assist the rest of us in deciphering right thinking, what matters, long term decisions, sustainable practice....yes, what is civil and useful in this moment.  How can we become our better self as a community dedicated to higher education if we are not paying close attention to who and what has come before us?  If history repeats itself, we need to attend to it.  What actions have moved us forward?  Who has stood up and given voice to difficult truths?  Who and what has challenged us to look at ourselves?  Where have the quiet but powerful moments of true caring relationships mattered...and how have they stood  the test of time?  How many conversations have we all had with alumni who talk about a moment, a gesture, a reaching out and going the extra mile by someone who has sustained them and shaped their existence over so many years?  

I wonder if we can do a better job at telling the stories of the elders?  I wonder how we can challenge each other to think of ourselves to be now and future elders of Guilford College and of the New Garden community?  That's what we mean when we talk about alumni relations, is it not?  Don't we really mean that we want each individual who has been shaped here to grow into their role as an elder of the community?  

What does it mean to be an elder?  

Day 7 - it's been a lifetime and a week

...since we arrived!  A week?  We have covered so much ground, met so many people, and touched so many issues...and all at Max Carter's pace which is not for the faint of heart!  We arrived yesterday in Ramallah where Max is greeted like a superstar.   This place has been a part of his life and Jane's since before he was born, with his beloved Aunt what's her name teaching here decades ago.  We arrived after crossing in and out of Israeli and Palestinian territory  - fake boundaries that Maia is always talking about when we discuss the Cape Fear River Basin in NC and our shared water and other resources.  There are so many of the "lord's proprietors" boundaries here.  And as they get defined and redefined for reasons that date back to the building of ancient Jericho (which we trekked across yesterday), resources here continue to get depleted and fought over - not stewarded and preserved.  This "holy" land is lusted after in terms of ownership, but it seems to me that it is not revered, coddled, or stewarded.  

It is wonderful how quickly we have bonded with our new friends here, and then how significant the parting is.  We said goodbye to two of the "Pilgrims of Ibilline" yesterday, Nancy Sutton and Larry Mulligan.  Nancy is from PA and Larry from MI, and both were serving as hosts in the Guest Quarters at Mar Elias, Abuna (Our Father) Elias Chacour's school.  They were delightful.  Before leaving they showed us the church that Chacour had built on the grounds.  Rather beautiful but not used for a congregation, (a problem to the Quaker mentality).  Another challenge to the Quaker mindset is Chacour's stained glass image there.  Downstairs in the church there is large mural with a Guilford alumni connection.  Cassie Fox's father, Tom Fox, who was a peace activist in Iraq and killed there several years ago, is prominent in the mural along with other martyrs including Gandhi and Martin Luther King.  A sobering reminder of so many dedicated souls.  

We covered some serious Biblical territory this day.  From Nazareth to Jericho, by Mount Tabor, Dead Sea, Quram hills, waved to Zaccheas' tree, Armagheddon hill, and then skirted Jerusalem back to Ramallah.  We visited the Church of the Annunciation, supposed site of Mary's visit from the angel, which is full of beautiful mosaics with representations of Mary from countries all over the world.  Jericho was desert like and hot, an archeological extravaganza claiming to be the oldest city in the world.  We ate at a funny place called "Temptations" restaurant.  The desert puppies there hiding in the dig sites were troublesome in that it was a million degrees and they were adorable and....well, it's good that Julia wasn't seeing that.  

Despite the caution about the icky and stingy and yucky Dead Sea-is-a-chemical bath - I battled with my FOMO condition (fear of missing out) and decided I couldn't pass it up.  More resort like than I had imagined - (I thought everything would look like something from the Bible here) we walked down to the sea "put it" place by swimming pools, tiki torches and thatched roof bar!  The brave of us went on it and once past some intitial "why did I shave my legs this week" stinginess it was a blast!  I could hardly get my body upright and felt like a bobbing cork out there!  We choreographed a loved synchronized swimming performance once we figured out how to maneuver.  It was fun.

On our way back to Ramallah there was a lot of traffic.  We then realized that a random check point had been set up by an army jeep on the high way.  When our turn came, two Israeli soldiers boarded our bus and asked for our passports.  Fully loaded with rifles and gear, they walked through our bus, checked our i.d., smiled and told us to have a nice day.

We unpacked in what will be our home for the next week.  A nice apt. on the campus of the Friends School.  I think we all breathed a sigh of comfort to know we could settle in a bit.  I think we all realized the stress of clinging to our belongings, not losing our passports, not seeming vulnerable and that it had caught up with us.  However, we had another quick turnaround to be at the home of Guilford sophomore Nour Salhoub for dinner.  Her mother Lena and Nour welcomed us to their lovely apartment for a delicious and full spread dinner.  Walid, another Guilford student joined us.  We had a great time there and I enjoyed getting to know Nour and Walid better.  

Here are some photos from Day 7 -

Evening Day 5

What exactly am I doing here, and why have I come?  I have heard that this might be the question we get asked tomorrow when we meet the Holy Father Elias Chacour.  It is a question that I've already been asking myself.  Of course, I knew this was the inherent "promise" of this trip, that my small world would be turned on end.  It feels like I've been helicoptered into history in motion.  As unique as the political, social and religious issues and manifestations of daily life are here, this could also be another historical time and situation, a bottom line being the impersonalization and creation of "other" for all the reasons that make being human sometimes horrific.  Tonight in our group discussion we talked about this being akin to the devastation of the Native Americans, the reservation model, the depletion of entire cultures.  Being here is seeing that in real time. 

Today we left Jerusalem, and said goodbye to our Guest House and our host.  She was so lovely and gracious - I had such a feeling of connection there.  We took a short bus ride to Neve Shalom, an intentional community of Arab and Jewish Israelis living in the hills between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem.  Sixty five families live here and work through the issues of living harmoniously.  

We rode 2 more hours to the Village of Ibiline, in the hills just east of Haifa on the Mediterranean.  This is the village where the young Elias Chacour came on his first appointment from the church after his ordination, as recounted in his book Blood Brothers.  We are staying in the school he founded, Mar Elias for two nights.  Frank Massey gave me this book when I first decided to come on this trip, and it has been my first "window" into Palestine/Israeli world.  After we unloaded we walked (straight up hill - it was nearly a 90 degree incline I promise) to the home of Palestinian friends of Max.   They graciously hosted us for afternoon talk and walk around their home, their olive oil press, some ancient ruins on their property, and their neighborhood which included the Greek Orthodox, the Melkite Orthodox and the Mosque.  At the end of our walk we were served arab coffee and cake under their grape arbor.  The hospitality here is a normal and civil and beautiful part of life.  

I have had several conversations this evening, and a hot (the first) shower so my recounting of the day has been interrupted.  But let me say that this is visit to people first, and that is how I can begin to understand this place. 

Tomorrow, to the Galilee and the place of the Sermon on the Mount. 

As our new friend Elias said earlier this evening, "dream well."  And that, we must.

Evening Day 4

Today we met with beautiful, courageous, strong, hopeful people who live most unhopeful of circumstances.  The view today of this place was raw and real it seemed.  We got to see and hear from people who have been displaced, and are continuously threatened to be displaced or worse.  Yet, these people are creating and growing many things out of what could be left as flat despair.  The people met us with such enthusiasm and energy, the likes of which you don't often see.  Emira runs the Alrowwad Center for Beautiful Resistance in Aida Refugee Camp in Bethlehem.  She is not long out of college but has developed and managed programs in theater, dance, photography, music for youth in the camps.  She takes their playbus to the children and invites them to participate in creating games, programs and projects for themselves.  This slight and beautiful young woman was infectious with her message and displayed such strength, stamina, vision, courage.  She didn't slam anyone, or discredit or slander.  She told her story brilliantly, and is getting a job done with experiential learning for not only the youth in the camp but women and men as well.  She brings hope and vision.

The wall built only a few years ago, cuts off the refugees from a beautiful, green valley where Emira's cousin said children used to play.  The wall separates them from it now, and as we walked the streets it was clear that they had no place to play other than narrow streets, and a concrete basketball courtyard at their school, walled and barbwired against snipers who may be on the hotel roof right outside of the camp.  Her cousin waits for his brothers to be released from prison.  It's been 23 years.  

Emira looks as if she's frightened by no one and nothing.  

Our walk from there, where we saw bullet holes and pock marks in homes, walls and poles, led us out to Bethlehem proper, (Palestinian territory) to the Church of the Nativity.   If being a religious studies major didn't take the pizzazz out of Bethlehem for me, then being there sort of did.  As Da'houd said today at the farm we visited, 4 million tourists come to this area a year seeking dead stones, but they forget and don't seek the people.  The church was so touristy and no room for anything contemplative.  But the falafel nearby was really delicious!  And then, we met more real people at the farm - Tent of Nations.   

This will take me a long time to process - all of it will.  But meeting Dahoud and Dahour today was the highlight of the trip for me so far.  Their family has lived and farmed this land since early 1900's.  Their grandfather has a deed to the land dating to 1916 which is very unusual here.  It's also rare for farmers to live on their farm.  Palestinians have typically farmed in an area they basically commute to and then live in communities.  Their father and grandfather chose to live on the land and lived in caves there, which these brothers still do.  The older brother showed us the farm and the youngest brother talked with us a long time about the history of the farm and their struggles to protect and keep their land.  Settlements are going up all around their land.  There is one Palestinian Village left in sight which is slowly being cut off from resources, making it impossible for youth to stay there.  It will eventually die and people left will have to give up their land and move to Bethlehem - a contained area.

This family is running and envisioning sustainable agriculture on their land, and are open to sharing their story with others - but were clear to say that they are first and foremost a farm.  They will replant the trees that were bulldozed 2 weeks ago.  They will continue to farm.  They will continue to get the Israeli government to give them a new and proper deed to their land.  Meanwhile, we sang Christian songs led by one brother in a cave today, between his farm jobs and preparing to rebuild their apricot, apple and fig orchards that were destroyed.  

This place was beautiful and the family members we met (including their Mother) were extraordinarily warm.  They exuded hope and are uplifted by their vision to keep growing the sustainability of their homestead.  We shared a stupendous meal with the family, workers, and another group of Americans led by Max's daughter Maia.  The sun was setting over the valley at their cave home, where we ate the meal and drank the sage tea -(best I've ever had).  It was my first moment of finding the spirit/Spirit in this place.  I wanted to stay.  I want to go back.

Morning Day 4

Stop and go internet last night from the Coptic Guest House in Old City Jerusalem!  Hard to believe all those words could even make a coherent sentence.  I'm up as early as Max today, wondering whether to write, so I won't forget, or walk around.  I still have a real longing to see the Lutheran Church!  Is it because it would feel familiar in some way?  But there are so many things to say about yesterday.  

Up early on Sunday morning to head to the Friends Meeting in Ramallah.  We took a bus ride and it became a little more depressing around each curve.  But after the check point, the curtain was lifted back and it was a different world in there.  The other side of the wall is full of elaborate graffiti.  Everything looks half built, a shambles, rubble.  Ramallah was crowded and loud.  A big city feel in what also felt like a small place.  We walked from the bus station to the Friends School, then down the street - in the street, dodging cars bikes and people trying to keep up with Max - to the Meetinghouse gate.  Through the gate and into the walled courtyard was like stepping into an oasis.  Olive trees that Max's student group had pruned just this past January term, the garden was green, and the Meetinghouse beautiful. 

Two current Guilford students met us before meeting, Walid and Noor.  As we settled into Meeting for Worship, Jean Zahru the clerk, gave us a most warm and hopeful welcome.  Her steadfastness permeated the room and her warmth showed her to be a gifted host.  The familiarness of worshipping in Silence got my attention.  Quakers are a bonded group all over the world.  Fellow travelers come to expect and rely on the openness and welcome of Friends.  I tried to clear my mind of its constant input since we left Raleigh even.  It wasn't easy, but it never is for me.  I wanted to receive a message that would put this together for me, even just a little bit.  I am ready to be feeling something profound spiritually, but I feel more numb than anything.  I did though come to ponder the reality that for me being here, anywhere, is dependent and only really understood though relationships.  I can't process well if I don't know who people are, where they are from, and more.  

Along with a few Ramallah residents, Meeting was sparse but included the new Quaker Voluntary Service person going to Portland, three Ecumenical Accompanists, a relief worker from England.  I enjoyed talking with one woman from Scotland who works for the EA.  Her work has been to monitor checkpoints to make sure that people are being treated humanely, although I don't know if you could say fairly.  She described herself as not being adventuresome!  But her gig is to get up at 3:30 in the morning to be at the checkpoints.  She's from a farm in Scotland that she described in idyllic terms, and said she can't wait to get back.  But here she was, first time in the Middle East doing this work.  Let me slowly fade away like a slug now.  She was wonderful to talk with. 

After Meeting we headed back to American Friends Service Committee office, but not without  going back through the checkpoint.   The bus stopped and the driver pointed to Chloe and motioned for her to get off the bus.  Max and Jane claimed her with our group, and asked if we could all get off together.  "NO...45 and younger off the bus, everyone else stays."  The first really intimidating moment.  They all got through quickly but this shifted our collective experience into a new gear.

We met with AFSC workers, one a Palestinian and one an Israeli.  That was enlightening.  The Israeli has done jail time for her CO stance regarding conscription.  She talked about the militarization of society here, starting as early as possible with children playing and counting and using military symbols to normalize this aspect of life.  The juxtaposition of our dinner conversation could not have been scripted better.  An American couple who moved to Israel with their 5 young children in 1997 had dinner with us at the guest house.  The joy they feel about living here in a settlement, the opportunities their children have (because of of despite the mandatory conscription to the army?) struck me hard.  They see the military as important role models for their children "who wouldn't want their children to be like these young people?"  They feel closer to  God here as Orthodox Jews.  

Between AFSC and dinner, we of use went back to try to see the Dome of the Rock.  We still couldn't get there but we did go down into the archeological park around the base of the Temple on the other side of the Western Wall.  That was spectacular.  To be up close to those enormous Herodian stones, to see the street level ruins from Jesus' time, the ritual baths, etc. (not to mention there was a movie set set up there!) was really astounding to see.  

We didn't get lost in the maze of the Old City coming back either, a real plus in my book.  We wanted to stop and watch the street traffic and get coffee, but that meant that we had to walk by my aggressive bartering jewelry make "friend" from yesterday.  He goaded me to come back into the store so he could talk to me "privately!"  I resisted and we sort of laughed.  He's gotten really good and has way too much time on his hands!

Morning - Day 3

Yesterday seemed like a sprint through the some of the New Testament's greatest hits.  Hard to take it all in when surrounded by the array of people, sights and sounds - and information.  This place has so many exposed layers - it's all hanging out there to be experienced if you dare.  It's like a rough cut of an onion - all rock on rock and stone on stone, culture on culture, religion on religion.  The political situation is raw in ways we're not used to and you wonder even when you don't see the very issue in super 20-20 focus, when it will emerge right in your face.  Resources of all kinds are at stake here, in play, in jeopardy  - in real ways that we as Americans don't touch everyday.  Some of us have to go seeking this exposure and knowledge.  I think of the ways we are constantly trying to find ways to immerse students in environmental and sustainability.  Here the immersion is palpable.  

This morning we are getting ready for Meeting for Worship and for our first venture into Ramallah.  I'm still trying to absorb yesterday and all the images - Orthodox Jews at the Wall, and in the streets with their garb, walking by street vendors.  Me trying not to stare and wanting to take snapshots of every one of the men, women and children. They go by too fast. I want to watch and follow them as I step over trash in the market, including an jockey briefs underwear package with the obligatory model pose.  CONTRAST.  

I went with the young women to shop a bit in the old city streets yesterday.  Looking at jewelry we automatically entered into a bartering discourse.  Pressure to buy was intense.  I played mother hen with one of my companions while she was grilled by the shopkeeper about how much she had and how much cash she was willing to spend.  Meanwhile, one shopkeeper, a little older than me, sat quietly on his stool in the street.  He was the one recommended to us by a Friend we met from Oregon yesterday.  I told him I appreciated his approach and kindness while we had shopped in his place.  "Come, sit" he said.  He was calm and kind, and immediately we were speaking about being people first and dealing with others "heart to heart."  I'll never forget Mohammed's face.

Eireyna runs our guest house.  She is a beautiful Egyptian woman in full black head to toe covering.  She has a gorgeous smile, is funny and engaging.  I already wish I had more time to talk with her.  What is her world like?  She teaches middle school children and works here.  She's hoping to expand and add more rooms on the third floor.  She said that so many of her guests are Serbian, seeking God here in the city.   

We had dinner at home of an incoming Guilford student.  Yazin is a lovely young man who seems delighted about his upcoming adventure to Greensboro.  His father Amin started the "Hand to Hand" school.  Their home was lovely, and right on the LINE of the Arab/Jewish neighborhood.

The bells rung loudly this morning.  I wonder what the Lutherans are doing around the corner.  I wish I could go to church there this morning.  I feel my kinship with them suddenly in this strange place.  I expect to feel similarly this morning at Meeting.  

I'm in Jerusalem.  It seemed so vastly foreign and ridiculously far away last week.  But now I'm here and have talked on the phone with Julia, texted Joseph, checked email.  Everything is so much closer now.  

Jerusalem Day 2

I am tired tonight after a day that seemed like several!  Was it just this morning that we walked to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher to start our day?  Watching as people draped themselves over the slab of stone that pilgrims believe was part of the tomb of Jesus?  Orthodox Christians/Greek Orthodox, Armenian...people from all over the world here absorbing what they believe is a holy place with actual artifacts from their Lord/God, while the Quakers look on with quizzical faces wondering how symbols and things can mean so much on spiritual and emotional levels.  I have had both perspectives in my upbringing to some small degree, and I was kind of wondering when I would be hit with a deeper sense of something.  

Just to recap the day...after the walk through the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, we walked to the Western Wall.  I touched that wall and wondered what it would be like to have so much reverence for this singular place - so much of a sense of history and the sense that "God" was there.  From a terrace above the Wall we could see the Mount of Olives which is where we headed next.  We walked through the Garden of Gethsemane and the Church of All Nations.  From there we hiked up to the Mount of Olives for a truly spectacular view of Jerusalem. We regrouped after that with lunch and coffee at a small cafe and heard from Jesse Hampton who is here for a while and just out Seattle College of the Pacific.  She is working with Coalition of Christian Churches here.  What an articulate young woman.  We then walked back and through the old city, through a Roman era route that showed road stones and games that children would play to 'mock' kings which many believe is where Jesus was mocked on the road to his crucifixion.   We decompressed a bit, shopped and got hounded by shop keepers to buy buy buy! (except for my new friend here, Mohammad, who doesn't barter, prices all his things, and was a very, very kind soul -- I sat and talked with him a while while others' were being harassed by merchants!)  Then, it was off to dinner with an incoming Guilford student and his parents and sister.  Amin, Ronna, Yazan and Bene were delightful and fed us so very well.  Amin started the "Hand to Hand" schools, teaching both Arab and Jewish students.  Yazan will be coming to Guilford in the fall!  What a delightful evening in their home.  

So many sights and sounds to write about, but more details tomorrow.  Legs are tired from stone walks and steps, but what an extraordinary day.

More first day photos from Israel

The web gets bigger - Jerusalem, Day 1

Why?  Why leave, why go, why pack, why fret, why stress?  And, why not?  The comforts and narrowness of view keep me tethered to the familiar and safe in ways I would really rather not acknowledge.  A fat and happy safe American.  How can I even think in my lifetime of comforts that I will ever confront the desert wandering that I'm reading about in a book that is my latest preparation for this trip, Abraham, (Bruce Fieler)?  

Today, yesterday I left, packed, fretted and stressed and leapt a little...and now I'm lying in the bed at the Coptic Guest House in Jerusalem's Old city on the first night of this trek!  I'm here with fellow travelers, all wanting a piece of what Max Carter, Friends Center and Campus Ministry Director at Guilford, has to give them from his 44 years of visiting this part of the world.  First as a young Conscientious Objector teaching at Ramallah Friends School in 1970, and now as an almost retired pastoral minister and leader at Guilford, Max has brought numbers of people here to experience the layer upon layer that is the "Holy Land."  I'm grateful to be among the members of another group he is leading with wife Jane. His almost childlike enthusiasm for every chapter of the "story" here is infectious and his energy rivals and surpasses all of ours, even the young ones just starting their college experience.

Yesterday and today the universe smiled on us as we breezed down I-40, everyone made their connections, we arrived safely in Newark, boarded our flight to Tel Aviv, and then casually walked through customs at the airport.  It was the afternoon of Shabbat and very quiet.  I expected an abrupt cultural force to be waiting for us, and to be questioned and intimidated at the custom gates.  No such thing happened today.  We stepped out of the airport to a delightful upper 70's temperature, blue skies, and a kind bus driver - with a luxurious tour bus!   

Straight to the Damascus gate we went, rolling and carrying our luggage as we entered this city that has existed even before time it seems.  The way in was a ride through hillsides of rocky terrain and olive trees, settlement housing, and Palestinian dwellings.  A snapshot of childhood Bible stories.  

Tonight the streets of West Jerusalem were quiet as we strolled after dinner to get our bearings.  We were met by two lovely women who run this Guest House  which is next to the Coptic Monastery.  Traditional Jews in their black dress with brimmed hats, fur hats, curls and prayer shawls flooded the streets on the way to the western wall for prayer.  We circled outside of the walled city and then back in, passing the Lutheran Church, the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, and endless shops

Our group is kind and adaptive.  Two rising 2nd year students, an alumnus, a faculty member, a young Quaker RN from Indiana, a CCE student, a Quaker woman/Friend of Guilford from Mt. Airy, Max, Jane and me.   I feel good about these companions.  

I'm thinking about my sweet Grandmother who made this trip in 1989 with her sis, my Aunt Mabel.  They were 79 and 81 years old.  My "Naneen" had never left the country and really never had ventured out of NC/SC in her life!  I will love thinking of those two here, and what it must have been like for them to see places that were such a part of their spiritual lives, albeit a most western, American, white, middle class, protestant view and trip.  Regardless, they stepped out of their lives to be here, mostly buoyed I bet by their love for each other and their love for goodness and "God." 

Will this trip provide some desert wanderings for me? 

irritations and celebrations Feb. 15 and March 7, 2014

The day after Valentine's day and the teenagers have used all but one, tiny drop of the half and half in the coffee that I MADE for myself this morning.  IRRITATED.  

What day can do more to irritate me than Valentine's Day?  It did.  I was irritated by my son, by my work, by my friends, by the couple on the street who decided 10 FEET IN FRONT OF ME to practice their movie scene kiss and dip.  I was even irritated that the snow was melting. I was irritated by my shovel, because I swear it looks like someone sawed off the handle.  Shoveling felt like the equivalent of having someone short-sheet my bed.  I was ruminating on these irritations while I was walking in to a concert venue.  I had asked myself out on a date months ago to see one of my favorite groups, The Wailin' Jennys, who were performing on, none other than, V day in Greensboro.  It's easy to get a good seat with a party of one, by the way.  I felt triumphant when I purchased my tickets.  But as V day arrived, my irritation was rising.  Even the Jennys sort of irritated me.  I mean, if one of them said "snuggle up to your sweetie for this song" one more time I thought I might have to leave.  Why didn't they just put the spotlight on me in the 3rd row, showing me in my singular seat with no one to either side.  I couldn't hide if I wanted to.

...almost a month later, it's funny to read what's above.  I mean, I think I'm kind of funny, which is a good thing since I'm always with myself.  Seriously though, I was irritated around Valentine's Day.  It was a wrestling match I suppose between my actual life and happiness, and what the (made up/fake) world tries to tell me around holidays about what is supposed to make me happy.  But truly at my core, I am loving this part of my life.  I feel actual delight everytime I turn the key to my home.  Some sort of welcoming cloud greets me there, a cloud of myself and my family really.  After 8 years it's nice to feel this cloud of a place that has developed out of new beginnings.  It took a long time to create my own space, and to own the right to do so.  

Surrounded on all sides, as we are, by the pressure of Hallmark holidays, being young, thin, and part of a couple, I seem to be finding my own definitions of happiness.  The great and terrifying thing about right now is that it seems like just a beginning - and I'm officially middle-aged.  It's hard not to wish I'd started long ago, but there's no use in that kind of regret.  On the other hand, I think there's a grief about the past that has to be acknowledged and honored.  The sage Carol Stoneburner talked about that as recently as last evening at a talk she gave with Adele Wayman (another sage).  I was struck by the dialogue and dynamic between these two colleagues and friends once again.  Carol, in her absolutely incredibly astute way, pointed out the "glow" in Adele's paintings.  The image of the Adele painting I have in my living room appeared in my head as Carol talked about that.  I was drawn to the "glow" in the painting the first time I saw it in Hege Library years ago.  In this particular piece, the glow is buried in woods, through trees and some darkness.  That glow is what beckoned to me when I first saw it.  It captivated me. It called me forward, and still does.  I couldn't name this phenomenon back then, but I was aware of the sudden immersion into a relationship with the piece.  To hear Carol say "the glow in Adele's paintings are about the 'woman who is not yet'..." named it for me clearly last night.   Carol also noted the grief she sees in Adele's work...(for women in particular), "...about what's left behind, and of not knowing what's coming."  This is the grief-wash I'm in.  At the same time that I feel tremendous joy and gratitude I also feel grief for time lost, not embracing or acknowledging myself, for missed opportunities.  And then there's the not knowing what's coming next, at a point where factors of age, health, earning power, and more are coming into play in new ways.  

 I am so very late to the feminist party.  I often feel like a middle-aged baby.   Part of my grief  is that I have known and been in proximity to Carol, Adele, Jane, Beth, Judy (John, Mel, Jerry) and others since I was a very young woman. I had access, but I didn't partake.  As crazy as it sounds, I didn't know any of this was about me.  So, last evening, I got another chance to take this all seriously; to do away with what doesn't matter, to make room for what does.   To pay attention to the woman who is not yet. 

Adele, so generous with stories about her own evolution, says that though it may appear that her journey as been orderly and planned, that it has not always been so.  The pieces and fragments of life come together to create their own pattern.  It seems that only when I look back, do I see a new and unique picture, or read a story that makes sense.  I have done what I can with the materials available to me, and have been busy (often unconsciously) creating the art of myself.  Such a product of southern, middle-class culture of being and staying invisible as a human being.  It's such a giant hiding place, where women are encouraged-URGED to go.  So while there may be grief, it is not uselful to indulge in regret.  I could only be as "awake' as I was, I can only be as awake as I am.  Waking up and giving credence to my own gifts is the playground now.  With being awake comes irritation, right?!  And maybe anger and rage.   With knowing myself comes knowing what is and is not acceptable.  Beyond the minor, daily, middle aged irritations of privilege (like teenagers drinking the half and half), comes my own "knowing" on so many levels.  I want to "know what I know" and not be afraid to know it. I want to take risks of acting on what I know.  I want to have courage to be prepared for how "knowing" only leads to a vast "unknowing."  And then, there's the gratitude for having guides like Carol and Adele. Thank you Carol and Adele (and Beth, Mel, John, Jane and others) for pointing me to the "glow."  

Klondike

Day, night, night, day...I've been spending days on end mostly in one space, my living room by my fireplace.   This has made it seem like one, long, continuous moment.  My head is full of words.  My mind is composing, composing but no writing has happened.  There's so many places to start.  There's so much to say.

Big dog is sick.  I don't have to believe it because there's something growing in his mouth.  What I have to believe is that it will undo him.  When I was told the news, my vigilant watch began.  It's hard to know how heightened my senses have become.  I listen to his breath, his snores.  I watch him twitch when he dreams.  I woke up this morning, almost afraid to go to him.  Would he be in a pool of blood because I slept overnight?  I read something into his every look.  He comes to me with enormous brown/black eyes - lumps of coal in the snowy white face.  I translate those looks through my feeble, spiritually disconnected, limp, selfish human filter.   Last night I thought he was trying to tell me that time was getting shorter.  He followed me and needed to be touching me.  His paw reached out as if to say, "stay close friend."  We laid by the fire some more, my hand on his side, massaging, stroking, scratching, so he would know of my deep love.   I wondered how the clock was ticking.  Then, all of a sudden, dogs bark and out he and they go, running full out to the back of the big yard.  Barking, chasing, leaping, protecting.  Being true to their work and breeding.  My big white protectors.  I laugh at myself and all that I'm fabricating in my mind about this moment.

To be fair though, this fabricating isn't all bad.  I'm trying to make sense of this time.  I'm trying to learn about what it means to be living and what it means to know it's not forever.  I was (am) afraid I'd spend every moment feeling that weight around my neck of grief and sadness.  I did have days where my arms felt loaded down with rocks, too heavy to raise all the way.  Utter grief.  My friend is going to leave.  How will I get through this?  Then, I tried to place myself in his world - yes, Klondike's.  I do believe that these canine beasts, and this one in particular, are aware of our energy and emotions.  Are we sad, sick, angry, happy, content?  I think he would know if I was wallowing in distress, anxiety, fear, sadness.  I think he would also know if I was in a place of gratitude, love, and the sheer delight of being with him no matter the circumstances.  So, by grace I have been able to spend time in the latter.   And we are enjoying hours of rest, and hours of walks, hours of him being the keeper of the yard.  Days on days have been given to hibernate together in this house, and by a lit hearth.  The other dogs have been calm and patient.  We have been quiet together.  We have been reading Mary Oliver, and Dog Sense.   They have been sitting near while I read and work.  It's been cold, and he likes it.  The cold, winter days have been a gift for me too...more justification in hibernating, more still, more quiet.  

I will continue to try to interpret his looks and movements.  I have always believed he has given me exactly what I  have needed, when I have needed it.  He's a calm force.  He is patient.  He is content.  He is happy, loving, attentive.  He's predictable.  He's ready when I'm ready - for a car ride, a walk, a nap.  He snores every night the most contented, snuffly, beautiful, loud snore.  I don't mind.   I am soothed by it.  

We will take each moment.