Here and There

Wednesday, November 09, 2016

Pep talk for myself.

White women, why?  Why did you do it!  I am filled with shame and confusion that so many ladies across the nation voted for Trump.  Today, I'm looking around, absolutely perplexed, terribly sad...reading "Coming Back to Life" by Joanna Macy, I find the big picture that I want to be a part of. We cannot stop fighting for what's right, we cannot stop pointing at climate change and shouting for action and responsibility to be taken.  We cannot stop shining a light on police brutality against people of color, the hate and exclusion of immigrants and the LGBTQ community.  It's all still there today, just as it was yesterday and we have our whole lives to fight it.  If you are tired or too sad, sit out a bit, that's okay.  Church-at-large, you failed.  You've been failing.  Time for some other way of organizing, people of faith...let's figure it out.

I am totally ready to go.  I am inspired to live out kindness, welcome, love.  I am totally ready to wrestle the Bible from the hands of the "evangelicals" and find in it true and original blessing which is for all people, NOT just who white, heterosexual, males think deserve it. 

I am totally ready to talk to Jesus about this next leg of the journey.  The Jesus I need now is super Jesus, the one who transcends time and space and is my guru for living in this world.  The crazy Jesus who noticed birds and wheat waving in the wind and would talk to and listen to absolutely everybody.  That guy.  I need him AND I need Joanna Macy and Matthew Vines and Mary Oliver to talk me through it.  And I need my sacred space by the couch and thankfulness and walking.  I need good news and hope and the beatitudes.  I need the Jesus who is a mystic, the Jesus who was alone in the garden.  I don't want Idol Jesus.  The one we make in our own image.  The one people keep locked in 4 books of the Bible and who has a glowing white face.  I want the Jesus who is completely transcendent of the stories and shows me a way to God.

I need help from that guy so that hate doesn't fill my heart and harden it.  So that I can transform my worry and dread and disgust into kindness and bravery.

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

Creativity sometimes breaks down...

Writing this poem about a pelican is kicking my butt.  I know exactly what I want to say, but it's not showing. 

I am trying to paint this river otter like one I saw over the summer.  It's not working either. 

River otter!  Pelican!  Guys, I'm trying to show something about why I am loving you, help me out!





Friday, September 16, 2016

Mid Birthday Month

 This September, Henry started at Dandelion, and that has been this incredibly surreal thing.  It feels like suddenly my time as a mom to babies is done.  Being at the comforting, beautiful place that Dandelion is feels like having a doula help me through this reality.  On the first day of school, I was participating and Sonia, one of the teachers was gently washing a chicken whose backside really needed a bath.  The circle of children sat around her outside under the tree and watched.  She put Daisy in a bin of warm water and I helped hold her while Sonia said very kindly "I'm going to wash you now, Daisy".  And set to work with her soap and rag.  I thought about how she used that best practice for working with all the vulnerable--babies and small children, the elderly, those who need assistance from others in cleaning themselves--in her interaction with the chicken.  And I felt so grateful to hear those words.  It doesn't matter that Daisy is a chicken.  It was more of a way of interacting with the whole world with respect for living things.  I felt glad that was what I was learning and what all my kids have learned from starting their foray into the wide world at Dandelion.  Way back when, when Lily was 3, I knew we needed a co-op preschool because of the lower cost, but I have found my years at Dandelion to be just what I needed in so many more ways.  I've learned about parenting, about community, about plants, chickens, child development, about true play.  And honestly, my time working on the board, learning with the parents from the speakers at parent meetings, and learning from Abby and Sonia has been such a part of my path toward nurturing children's spirituality as a fundamental practice in my job at CWOW, at home with my kids and hopefully, in my interactions with all the children I meet.


And it was my birthday earlier this month and Lily gave me this amazing card. 


Monday, August 15, 2016

In August



Favorite things I watched:  Broad City, every episode...over and over...., Stranger Things, The Little Prince
Favorite things I heard:  In the Heights, the On Being with Krista Tippet episode with Thich Nhat Hanh
Favorite thing I read:  The Buried Giant by Kazuo Ishiguro


Friday, July 22, 2016

Camping

open fire cast iron cooking...
perfect light, perfect temperatures

Didn't even have to use a fly: sleeping under the stars, and getting dressed under the trees and filtered sun.

We went camping at the Russian River last week.  We swam and floated and drank Kirkland light beer, we made good food and now, looking back, even though Henry was wild and naughty a lot of the time, I think we had a pretty darn amazing time.

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Fuzz







Last week, I walked through a school garden with the kids.  Deserted on a summer afternoon, we picked golden raspberries and strawberries and chard, I studied the labyrinth, there were flowers and herbs and vegetables.  It seemed like the sun was holding it all down with a steady heat.  And me too, I felt like I was clobbered and disoriented by bad news and this fuzz of the sun in the late afternoon was gentling me.  The garden was terraced and full of small paths.  I wandered and felt calm.  A bee working, a dove.  The fuzz of gold on everything in the garden on that warm afternoon.  How could it possibly comfort me?  I don't understand that part.


Tuesday, May 17, 2016

The Grown Ups at the Kindergarten Play

I happened to watch one side of the audience during "Chicken Soup With Rice" at the play and was stunned by how beautiful it was to watch the families watch the children.
The Grown Ups at the Kindergarten Play

It was almost like flash bulbs flashing, but it was their shining eyes blinking.
All the phone screens, they were horizontal, filming.  
But there was still this twinkling about the whole thing:  
Like gems catching the light, sun on the pond.

They were all standing there, half standing, sitting there.
They had forgotten where they were, so charmed they were.
Chuckles and sighs escaped like steam from underneath the lid of a boiling pot.  
Bubbles of pride and delight becoming “aha-has” or a little “oh”.

It didn’t matter what the song or the motion was.  
The kids either sang, or didn’t sing.  They did the motions, or they forgot.  
But seeing them up there had inside-outed the adults’ affection and it was extravagant.

They were so lovely to watch as they were watching,
standing there, half standing, sitting there.
They weren’t hoping for anything for the kids.  
They weren’t dreaming of anything for the kids.  
They were happy to see them up there, just as themselves.

Grown ups, can you feel it?  Can you feel that love coming at you from the audience?  
For you, when you learn, when you forget, when you just sit there, remembering the school play.

There is a presence who is agog at you on your stage, so full of bright love, not even hoping you’ll be anything better than you.